Tuesday 26 April 2016

Death of a Celebrity

I've become quite fascinated with how differently people react when a celebrity dies. If there's some sort of connection to the passed person, the loss can be quite devastating. It's always a sad thing to learn of somebody's death, but is it strange to mourn for somebody you don't know? Someone you have never even met?

There are some who get on their high-horse and berate others who grieve for the famously dead. Sometimes they'll offer up victims of a massacre or natural disaster and ask if their deaths are any less significant. Death is never a happy occurrence, and ironically, it's always going to be a part of life.

When David Bowie died in January this year, it hit me really hard. I think that it was the most that I'd ever been affected by a celebrity death. I couldn't do much else but listen to album after album of his, and was moved to tears several times. Losing Prince over the weekend has stirred some of those feelings up in me again. I was a much bigger Bowie fan, but I still loved Prince, and was lucky enough to have seen him at the Perth Arena in February. To lose both of these amazing artists in the first four months of this year is nothing short of tragic. A huge loss to the music industry, as well as the human race. But what makes us take their passing so personally? I think I might have worked it out.

Artwork of Bowie and Prince by Scarlett River  

When you become a fan of someone's music, you begin to take in part of that person. They're sharing pieces of their soul, their beliefs, their emotions, their very being. If you connect with a set of lyrics that seem to describe exactly how you're feeling or what you're going through, you feel empathy from the songwriter. Sometimes you even feel relief that someone else has experienced the same thing, and you're not as alone as you once seemed to be.

For many, music is a form of therapy. How many of us spent our angsty teenage years in our bedrooms, lost in some moody tunes or cathartic melodies? If you have trouble turning to somebody when you're going through some sort of personal crisis, music is always there. Music can help you wallow in your sadness or even lift you out of your dark funk. Music carries you through the tough times and then lets you surf over the good times. Music is universal. It means many things to many people.

It's been suggested by some that the music and movies that we love as teenagers stay intrinsically linked to us as we get older In those years we are at our most impressionable, and it's easy for our developing minds to form an attachment to actors, singers, artists, performers or who-have-you. We look to those people for escapism or solace or energy. Despite never actually meeting David Bowie or Prince, millions of people felt a connection to them. Their lives aren't any more or less valuable than the poor souls who perished in that landslide, but their reach is vast. People in countries they never toured through would possibly still know their music.

The one comfort we can take when an artist we love dies, is the legacy they leave. We're very lucky to have been left so much music, art, film and literature by artists who are no longer with us. While it might sadden us to listen to a particular song or watch a certain film role, it's always worth remembering that, for the most part, this is probably what that person loved doing the most. It drove them. It was their passion. It was their love. We all can take a little piece of that love, whether they are with us or not.