On Monday, Rick Huxley died. I didn't find out about this until Tuesday, but when I did I was sad. I started thinking about the Dave Clark Five because that's the band he was in. So I remembered that they were one of the first bands I was listening to when I really started getting into music. I went to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame the year they were inducted (2008), and on the return trip, I happened to find their first American LP (from 1964), which I bought for only $1.98. Later, I found their second American LP (from 1965).
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| The Dave Clark Five - Glad All Over (1964) |
I remembered that "Because" was one of the first songs I learned to play on guitar (though I've forgotten it now, and I'm not entirely sure that the chords I had found were correct anyway).
But the more I got thinking about it, the more I realised that while it's sad that Rick Huxley died, I'm not going to be as sad as I would if someone in my own family were to die. That's the weird sort of grieving you get when a public figure dies. Certainly you're sad, but because you didn't know personally know that person, it doesn't affect you as much. I felt the same way when Davy Jones died in February. I was sad that he died, of course, but I didn't personally know him. Furthermore, the Davy Jones whom I was familiar with was the 20-year-old Davy Jones from the Monkees. Not Davy Jones in 2012.
So, it's a weird, sad thing when someone whom you admire but don't personally know dies because you're grateful for what he's done and his death reminds you of how important that is to you, but his death won't have as large an effect on your day-to-day life as it will on those who personally know him.
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| Rick Huxley's bio from The Dave Clark Five Return! (1965) |
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