With the sad note that Clarence Clemons, an anchor of the E-Street band and close friend of the BOS, died today due to complications related to a stroke, it made me realize that I hadn't thought about the BOS, E-Street band, or the 1980s in depth for a long time. Being in my mid-twenties, I still have this glow about the 1980s in my memory. From waiting in long-lines with my mom to receive dot-print out reports, sitting in the backseat with my dad listening to the Minnesota Twins, rummaging through industrial and consumer good surplus stores, typing on typewriters in the sun, and to just being a kid, there is a certain aura about the 80s. The music, and the invention of MTV definitely played a role. Some early memories are associated with the likes of Michael Jackson, Madonna, and Bruce Springsteen.
When one of these icons dies, when a pivotal singer or performer passes who songs we know by heart, whose songs actually greeted me in foreign lands, it jogs the memory. Collectively, we are reminded of what we stopped hearing in the music long ago, the performer. The song. And with it, you hear the anthem of everything this performer unknowingly shared with you. For me, I shared my first-summer job, long road-trips though the East Coast of the United States, and my first day living in Germany with the BOS and the E-Street Band.
I think that is why when an artist dies our attention is turned to them once more. For example, here are the Google Trends for Michael Jackson:
To Clarence.
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