Rock on -- Rod the Mod

In a brief period of a little over a year, beginning in the summer of 1970, three very high profile musicians died. They died as a result of their wretched excesses, and all three of the ‘Js’ are missed to this day, primarily because they were pivotal, each in their own way.

They were, of course, Janis Joplin (Piece of My Heart tells us anything we ever needed to know about pain and rejection); Jimi Hendrix (play Purple Haze at full volume in a sports car with the top down on a sunny day on a winding road and experience bliss), and Jim Morrison. (Jim was an angelic looking, arrogant drunken prick, but only his voice would carry Light My Fire as it should be carried – sorry, Jose Feliciano).

As students of the genre know, none of the aforementioned made it out of their 20s.

And then Denny Doherty of the Mamas and Papas died a couple of weeks ago. And then there was one – Mama Michelle. Denny lived to a moderate (though not old) age. John Phillips was, as everybody knows, a raging addict for years, and Mama Cass Elliot, with her sweet and wonderful voice (Dream a Little Dream can actually make me misty) departed most prematurely in 1974 as a victim of both her excess adipose, and a major drug habit which she worked diligently to hide.

Such a depressing and stupid way to die, is all I can think – for all of the victims of self-indulgence of any kind.

But then I saw a great photo the other day. It was of Rod Stewart chatting amiably with Prince Charles. “Rod the Mod” who was on the Queen’s Honours List this year. The bluesy, boozy, husky voiced hellraiser from North London not only survived it all, but he has actually become something of a ‘gent’, albeit with his Rod hairstyle still in place six decades into his life.

Not only is Rod (who was one of the best blues stylists in the business) made it through and thwarted his excesses, he has realistically settled into a crooner of standards – kind of a latter day Tony Bennett. Good for him.

Likewise, Eric Clapton, also raging consumer of anything mind-altering in his day, has remained brilliant and has achieved a certain serenity in his life that would be the envy of anyone who has struggled with the vicissitudes of life.

Of course, the fly in the musical ointment is ‘Keef’ – Keith Richards, with a propensity for falling out of palm trees – who makes no apologies to anyone and sports a visage that looks like it has lived at least three lives. I like to think with Keith (who is musically sans pareil in my esteem) carries on because he is not only brilliant, but doesn’t give a sweet goddamn about what anybody thinks of him. I also like the fact he cuts his own hair – and it looks it. Now, there is a man who is secure in who he is.

I envy Keith in that. And, I’m glad he’s still alive. As I am glad about Rod and Eric and all the others who ‘chose’ to survive, and who ‘chose’ to recognize that one day youth would be gone, but the smart people carry on, and reinvent themselves.