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Quite possibly the greatest and most gifted record producer of the age.
Definitely irreplaceable…
From the many, many obituaries and retrospectives published since his passing, this piece from the Guardian seems to me to illustrate best the sheer breadth and depth of Quincy’s talent.
Rest in peace.
The British thespian profession has always punched well above it’s weight – from the secularisation of drama that followed the Reformation onward. This extraordinary tide has shown no sign of abating; long may the trend continue.
In recent times the Brits have furnished the dramatic universe with an abundance of fierce talents, particularly when it comes to those great ladies of the dramatic arts. We have been blessed with more than our fair share of ‘national treasures’.
Sadly, this weekend saw the passing of one of the greatest of those treasures – the brilliant Dame Maggie Smith. I saw her first many decades back in the film adaptation of the Muriel Spark novel – ‘The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie‘ – in which she was, naturally, excellent. That has been the case, of course, with pretty much everything to which she turned her hand.
In the few days since her passing much has already been written in her praise. Rather than re-hash any of these eulogies here I recommend that you search out some such. The Guardian obit would be a good place to start.
Dame Maggie Smith will surely be most sadly missed by us all.
Rest in peace.
It has been a sad year for those who are involved with… or who have an interest in… or who are passionate about… the business of music. Yet another of our creative giants has succumbed to age and/or illness. Canadians, naturally, need little encouragement to celebrate one of their own greats; in this case the inimitable Robbie Robertson, who sadly passed away yesterday at the age of 80.
We were, last night, at this year’s penultimate Music in the Park in Brentwood Bay and the evening’s act – local cover band, ‘Shaky Ground’ – were moved to knock out a slightly chaotic (and definitely un-rehearsed!) rendition of ‘The Weight‘ as a tribute. It seemed apposite in its sincerity (much as did the version of “Imagine” unexpectedly rendered by Freddie Mercury and Brian May of Queen at Wembley Arena in London all those years ago the night after John Lennon was shot in New York).
I posted to this blog back in 2016 a piece entitled “The Boy(s) in the Band“ – having attended an audience with Robertson at the Farquhar Auditorium at the University of Victoria on the occasion of the publication of the first volume of his autobiography – ‘Testimony‘. If you should not be Canadian – and perhaps thus less likely to know the detail of Robertson’s background – that piece might offer a useful starting point. I also strongly recommend Daniel Roher’s excellent documentary – “Once Were Brothers” – which can be found on one or more of the usual streaming services.
In another of my earlier posts – from even longer ago, back in 2013 – I made reference to Robbie’s wonderful album – “Music for the Native Americans“, the which draws on his First Nations heritage. This I also strongly recommend.
Rest in peace.
Tags: Loss, Memories, Music, RIP, Robbie Robertson
Very sad to hear of the passing of Glenda Jackson. The United Kingdom has – during my lifetime – produced such an extraordinary run of incredibly talented actors and actresses that sometimes the details of individual careers can be taken a little for granted. Glenda Jackson was one of the brightest of acting talents back in the 60s and 70s and it is all the more to her credit that she moved on from acting to a career in politics – believing fervently as she did that she could make a difference and do some good for the less fortunate subjects of the UK.
It is a great shame that not of all those who entered politics during this period (and subsequently) have held such high moral standards and noble intentions – or behaved with such integrity.
Tags: Glenda Jackson, Loss, Politics, RIP, Theatre
I mentioned only the other day in this forum that it was deeply saddening that we seem in these times to be losing so many of those giants upon whose shoulders sit the artists, thinkers, creators, sports-folk and even (dare I say it) politicians to whom we turn in these troubled times.
Now another has gone – and this time one for whom the soubriquet ‘legend’ is surely inarguable.
I am not going to enumerate the many classics that Burt Bacharach penned throughout his lengthy career, not tell you any of the details of his life. That is for the hoards of obituarists who have already covered many miles of paper with appropriately glowing eulogies.
I am instead simply going to recall the one occasion on which The Girl and I saw Bacharach in concert – in Pergugia at the Jazz Festival. This was during his eightieth year; fourteen years ago. His voice had by that time passed its best and he very sensibly employed three different singers to cover his beautiful songs, whilst he played piano and led the orchestra.
To our surprise he started with a ten-minute medley of some of his greatest hits. Having finished this he set out on another. We observed to each other that it was a rare star who thus disposed of his major hits within the first twenty minutes of a show.
Bacharach simply played on… giving us a further two and a half hours of greatest hits. What a catalog – and what a fantastic show! The sentiment that came most frequently into our minds during this magical concert was: “I didn’t know he wrote that!”.
Well – he did!
We will not see his like again.
Rest in Peace
Tags: Burt Bacharach, Loss, Music, RIP
Such is life… and death.
This week two huge figures in my personal pantheon have gone beyond this place:
David Crosby was a major musical figure for much of my life and, whereas CSN(Y) were maybe not quite in my premier league of immortal bands, I found myself coming back to them again and again as the years passed. What drew me in were, of course, the sublime harmonies… to which I still routinely refer whenever I have a harmony of my own to write. For this – and for the bittersweet songs – much respect. ‘Helplessly Hoping’ indeed…
Jonathan Raban was a year younger than was Crosby but, I suspect, hailed from a very different world. The Guardian’s obituary starts:
“The British author, who lived in the US, blended memoir and travelogue in books that were often inspired by the sea”
Another Guardian piece is entitled:
“Jonathan Raban: his travel writing could pierce your heart”
What’s not to like?
Raban’s best book – for my money – is “A Passage to Juneau“. What appears on the surface to be an account of a sailing trip from Seattle, up the Inside Passage to Juneau in Alaska, is actually a disquisition on the death of Raban’s father and the slow-motion wreck of his own marriage. It is also a revelatory and sublime introduction to the Pacific Northwest – and thus not to be missed.
David Crosby – Jonathan Raban – Rest in Peace…
Very sad to hear of the passing of yet another rock legend – the great Jeff Beck. Along with Eric Clapton and Jimmy Page, Jeff was one of those towering figures who defined what was possible on the electric guitar back in the late 60s/70s/80s and beyond. If it feels as though he has somehow always been there then that is because – for my generation – he always was. Even if at times he was not directly in the spotlight (the music business being the fickle creature that it is) he continued recording, playing and touring until the summer of last year.
Many obituaries and retrospectives have appeared in a broad cross-section of the media and I commend such to any gentle readers unfamiliar with the great man’s oeuvre.
Rest in Peace
Very sad to report that the much loved Scottish and British and Irish Lions lock forward, Doddie Weir, passed away at the end of last week at the age of 52. Doddie was a fixture in the Scottish squad at around the time that Rugby turned professional in the 1990s and was a fan-favourite with the Murrayfield crowd. He turned out sixty one times for his country, played for the Barbarians six times and went on the 1997 British and Irish Lions tour to South Africa.
Weir is known just as much, however, for the time after his retirement from the game. It was announced in 2017 that he had been diagnosed with Motor Neurone Disease (MND), with the prediction that he would be unable to walk within a year. Instead of sitting back to await the inevitable Weir threw himself into campaigning and fundraising to help find a cure for MND, setting up the “My Name’5 Doddie” foundation which had, by June 2022, raised in excess of £8 million.
The “My Name’5 Doddie” foundation website obituary includes the following:
“Since making his condition known, Doddie has championed the campaign for more to be done for sufferers of the disease, both in terms of finding a possible cure, and with the treatment and welfare of patients and their carers.
Doddie’s work over the past five years saw him recognised with several honours and accolades, including an OBE, presented by Queen Elizabeth II for his services to rugby, MND research and the Borders community. He also collected Honorary Doctorates from both Glasgow Caledonian and Abertay Universities, as well as becoming a recipient of the prestigious Edinburgh Award. Within sport, a trophy named after him is now contested between Scotland and Wales, and he became recipient of the Helen Rollason Award at the BBC Sports Personality of the Year ceremony in 2019.
He also became a best-selling and nominated author, oversaw the design of his own distinctive tartan, and was captured on canvas by artist Gerard Burns, the painting now hung in the National Portrait Gallery in Edinburgh.”
A giant of a man in every sense and a Rugby legend, Doddie Weir will be sadly missed.
Tags: Doddie Weir, Loss, Remembrance, RIP, Rugby
It is with great sadness that we mark the passing of Queen Elizabeth II – the longest serving monarch in British history. Our sincere and deepest condolences to the members of the Royal Family.
This is truly the end of an era. Her Majesty was crowned a matter of months before I was born and has been a constant presence serving the nation throughout my life – as she was for all those of us who hail from similar generations. In a world that has seen so many tempestuous changes hers was a stable and calming existence that brought some degree of certainty to the most uncertain of times. That the nation – and the world in general – is yet in such dire need of positive influences only makes this news all the more sad.
Requiescat In Pace.
There is little that I could write about the towering figure of post-war British theatre that was Peter Brook that could not – and will not – be far better addressed elsewhere. His influence on the theatre was immense, even once he had retreated to Paris and was less frequently seen in the UK. Sadly I was too young to catch the productions at the Royal Shakespeare Company that cemented his reputation (the which famously included ground-breaking productions of ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream‘ and ‘Marat/Sade‘) and I only saw the filmed version of ‘The Mahabharata‘.
Brook was – of course – not only a theatre practitioner, but also a teacher, a thinker and a writer on the subject of the noble arts. Theatre students today would do just as well to seek out his many books. A quick hunt around my shelves reveals copies of ‘The Shifting Point‘, ‘There are no Secrets‘, ‘The Tip of the Tongue‘ and – of course – ‘The Empty Space‘ – without which I would not be.
A sad loss to the theatre and to the world.
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