I love music. I always have. With that, I’ve always respected those that create and perform it. Some would say that that respect should only be reserved for those who make “real” music, but what is real music? It’s so subjective, because there’s really no means of determining what “real” is. If it took even just a little bit of creativity to produce or perform a song — even if it includes elements of something else, isn’t it still real? No matter where you stand on that debate, one thing is certain: today’s music is the offspring of yesterday’s.
If you turn on your radio or scroll through your MP3 library, it’s almost guaranteed that most of what you’ll find will be some hybrid of yesterday and today. Seems like now more than ever, music of old lives through today’s heavily sampled musical fare. Nearly every song I hear these days makes me go scrambling to my collection for the original. I even get surprised sometimes by samples of great music even I, a self-proclaimed musicologist, haven’t heard before. The heavy sampling keeps me on my toes in respecting the foundation that’s been laid by those we call The Greats or the Musical Elite.
When artists are questioned about their influences, almost without fail you’ll hear in reply, “Donny Hathaway, Michael Jackson, Marvin Gaye, Stevie Wonder, and the list goes on with names that have earned household status in the black community. I’ve noticed something, though. With all that’s happened just in the last several months — and certainly the last few years, there’s been a steady flow of bright stars falling from the sky. Those that burn the brightest seem to be burning out the quickest.
Most recently, this year, we lost Teddy Pendergrass, an R&B legend in his own right. Just before that, we lost an even brighter star and legend, Michael Jackson, in 2009. That got me thinking, so I decided to do a little research.
Over the past eight years (as far as I could go back), including this current one, we’ve lost one or more bright star each consecutive year. They’ve been simply falling from the sky, after burning so brilliantly in our lives. Check this out:
’10 – Teddy Pendergrass
’09 – Michael Jackson
’08 – Isaac Hayes
’07 – Ike Turner — and if he doesn’t pass your test, Bo Diddley
’06 – James Brown, Lou Rawls, Wilson Pickett, Gerald Levert, June Pointer and Billy Preston
’05 – Luther Vandross
’04 – Ray Charles and Rick James
’03 – Barry White and Nina Simone
Putting that into perspective was startling, and this list isn’t even exhaustive.
We’ve had our loss for ’10 in Teddy, but the pattern begs the question, whose next? True enough, these aren’t people I know personally, but, at the same time, they’ve shared enough of themselves that music lovers,can claim them as “ours.” They compose part of the backdrop of our lives. That makes the impact of losing them, in such a steady stream, a little hard to digest.
We blacks have been accused of not supporting our artists after they pass that short-lived period when their careers are at their peak, and I guess I’ve found that to be somewhat true. We certainly give them flowers when they go, but actually, the love they get comes more so from the sampled music that many characterize as not being real. With that, I’m starting to change my perspective on the subject. I’m going to start viewing sampling as more of an homage to those stars that burned indelible impressions in our lives. It takes deep appreciation on the part of the artist or producer to even research and use those compositions that would be otherwise forgotten or collecting dust. I vow to embrace the ability of today’s sampled music to prod me to pull out originals and give them another spin. It’ll be my way of giving our brilliant stars their respect before they fall from the sky. –gerald radford
