As I've mentioned in previous blogs, I'm a bit of a guitar nut, and I'm therefore on the emailing list of a few guitar manufacturers. Last month, the Gibson newsletter led me, ironically, to an article on Van Halen (who are not noted Gibson guitar users), which in turn led me to an impromptu discussion forum on Van Halen's future. In short, after VH's management had poured cold water on rumours of a new VH album and tour, there was much animated discussion from readers. I guess I should first point out that the folks who write in on the Gibson newsletter articles tend to be a bitter lot, for reasons unknown (e.g.: "the new Firebird is way overpriced and quality isn't what it used to be", etc, etc). This article seemed to bring the same flavour of diatribes. A number of writers appeared to feel righteously cheated that the little band from Pasadena might not answer their fans' wishes and hit the road once again. Not long after reading this article, I flipped through Sammy Hagar's account of his time in the band. Whatever you'd care to say about Sammy, it's not a dull read - and assuming there's truth to it, it's quite illuminating and bemusing.
Meanwhile...
As a kid, I often pondered what The Afterlife would be like, and I even worked in a Cemetery one summer - which really made me contemplate the Big D. I don't think this is such an unusual topic of thought for anyone. I do recall, though, that about fifteen years ago I was able to entertain the possibility that there probably is no afterlife - and I was struck by how this imbues our current existence, strange and imperfect as it is, with a sort of beauty. If each of these conscious entities we're surrounded by are here only for this little eye-blink moment in cosmic time, never to be repeated - wouldn't that make this instant singularly rare and beautiful to witness? I tend to think so.
All good things really do come to an end - and in the case of VH, isn't it better to remember them at their height of their powers than as a shadow of their old selves, outstaying their welcome? They certainly don't 'owe' anybody a tour or album, despite what the Gibson newsletter readers have said. Frankly, while many of my childhood musical heroes are still touring and recording, I'd probably prefer that the majority of them packed it in (tho' I'd definitely make exceptions for perennial innovators like Jeff Beck or Alan Holdsworth). Of course I'd miss them, I'd listen to their old albums with wistfulness, but with a more pure affection, too. Maybe after a certain point in life, you finally start to get used to the idea that some good things really do disappear forever - and while it's not cause for happiness, it's difficult to attain serenity with the loss until the loss is complete.
Or in more earthy terms - how can I miss you if you never leave?! Perhaps the longer your track-record as a band, the higher your standards must be to justify your existence. Perhaps, too, rock is a style of music that is too vital to be left to millionaires, if it's going to be worth anything. Figuratively speaking, there may well be more beauty and glory in the struggle of battle than in the victory...but then, I might have a biased perspective...
Meanwhile...
As a kid, I often pondered what The Afterlife would be like, and I even worked in a Cemetery one summer - which really made me contemplate the Big D. I don't think this is such an unusual topic of thought for anyone. I do recall, though, that about fifteen years ago I was able to entertain the possibility that there probably is no afterlife - and I was struck by how this imbues our current existence, strange and imperfect as it is, with a sort of beauty. If each of these conscious entities we're surrounded by are here only for this little eye-blink moment in cosmic time, never to be repeated - wouldn't that make this instant singularly rare and beautiful to witness? I tend to think so.
All good things really do come to an end - and in the case of VH, isn't it better to remember them at their height of their powers than as a shadow of their old selves, outstaying their welcome? They certainly don't 'owe' anybody a tour or album, despite what the Gibson newsletter readers have said. Frankly, while many of my childhood musical heroes are still touring and recording, I'd probably prefer that the majority of them packed it in (tho' I'd definitely make exceptions for perennial innovators like Jeff Beck or Alan Holdsworth). Of course I'd miss them, I'd listen to their old albums with wistfulness, but with a more pure affection, too. Maybe after a certain point in life, you finally start to get used to the idea that some good things really do disappear forever - and while it's not cause for happiness, it's difficult to attain serenity with the loss until the loss is complete.
Or in more earthy terms - how can I miss you if you never leave?! Perhaps the longer your track-record as a band, the higher your standards must be to justify your existence. Perhaps, too, rock is a style of music that is too vital to be left to millionaires, if it's going to be worth anything. Figuratively speaking, there may well be more beauty and glory in the struggle of battle than in the victory...but then, I might have a biased perspective...