David Bowie. Glenn Frey. Merle Haggard. George Martin. Maurice White. Lemmy Kilmeister. Natalie Cole.
Call it the year of the dirge.
Pop music's sad song continues unabated.
Confession. I was never much of a Prince fan.
Then I watched his Super Bowl halftime performance. I can think of only one word: Mesmerizing. I still think it was the best halftime show I've ever seen, light years better than most of the stuff they pass off these days.
A lot of words are being bandied about in the wake of Prince's passing: Icon, genius, prodigy.
I learned several things in the past 24 hours. I did not know, for instance, that he was self-taught when it comes to music, pretty impressive when you realize there is really no instrument he could not play - and master.
What struck me when I heard of his passing was not all the great music, or the incredible live performances.
It was a number.
Prince was 57. That makes him three years younger than me.
I am guessing there are a lot of people like me who are feeling especially mortal today. This was not supposed to happen.
We all hoped "we'd die before we get old," as Roger Dawtrey would remind us in full-throated roar.
It was kind of humorous 40 years ago. Not so much today.
Prince defied any kind of musical category. Instead he was something of a savant, a master of all trades.
Most important, he was a huge part of our youth.
And now he's gone, and he's taken another chunk of that youth that we all shared with him.
* For an appreciation of Prince by our rock music columnist Michael Christopher, click here.
* An obituary: Portrait of Prince, an artist without peer.
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