No Sun in the Shadow of the Wizard

Ronnie James Dio has died.

I was a total metalhead as a kid, and although my tastes have expanded and matured quite a bit since fifth grade, I never really stopped liking it. And Dio was an amazing singer; a tiny little man with a gigantic, operatic voice.

I first became aware of RJD during his first stint in Black Sabbath. Heaven and Hell is a fucking awesome album, and I really dig Mob Rules. Oddly enough, I never cared for his eponymous band, although I did like the Holy Diver record.

Dio got back together with the Mob Rules-era Sabbath lineup as "Heaven and Hell," since they couldn't call themselves "Black Sabbath." The put out a live DVD, which is awesome, and a CD of new material, which is OK (read my mixed review here).

But if you really want to hear him belt his ass off (and hey, who doesn't?) check out Rainbow's "Stargazer." This cut is Eurometal at its finest. The late great Cozy Powell beats the shit out of his drums, Ritchie Blackmore contributes a typically over-the-top guitar solo, and, but of course, backing from the Munich Philharmonic Orchestra. Of course, what gives the track that extra little push over the cliff is Dio's powerful singing, especially in the fade-out. EPIC.

So when the news broke that Dio had passed away today, I went straight for "Stargazer." And when it gets near the end, and Dio is singing about "going home" and "take me back, take me back" (and of course, "My eyes are bleeding"), I got goosebumps.

Farewell, RJD. You were a total badass.

Moment of Silence (Wide Open Beavers Edition)

Kurt Vonnegut dies at 84.

I read Cat's Cradle when I was 14. I stayed home sick from school one day when I was a sophomore and read Mother Night all the way through. Saw him dedicate a library at University of Evansville in 1987 (or was it 1986?). Heck, on this here very blog I list Breakfast of Champions in my "Favorite Books" section. In other words, Vonnegut's books made a big impact on me (and about 12 million other people).

Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.

So it goes.

Moments of Silence

James Brown, Gerald Ford and, er, Saddam Hussein.

Moment of Silence

Joe Barbera died.

I used to bore my Evansville Saturday lunch cronies with countless tirades about how Hanna-Barbera ruined TV cartoons. Out of respect for the dead -- and out of respect for his truly awesome "Tom & Jerry" shorts for MGM -- I'll refrain from besmirching him just yet.

A Moment of Silence

Associated Press says that Ahmet Ertegun has died.

Dude signed Led Zeppelin. Respect.

Crikey!

"Crocodile Hunter" Steve Irwin has died from a stingray attack.

What a way to go. Not.

But you know that's probably the way he would have wanted to die, so cheers and godspeed.

Bummer in the Summer

From the AP:

MEMPHIS, Tenn. (AP) -- Arthur Lee, the founder of the '60s band Love, has died of leukemia. He was 61.

Lee was diagnosed with leukemia this year. He got a bone marrow transplant using stem cells from an umbilical cord last May, but never left the hospital after that.

A damn shame is what this is. I remember when I stumbled across the band via a typically well-done article in Mojo magazine. I bought the Love Story collection, then Da Capo. Later, when I was at the magazine, Rhino released a deluxe version of Forever Changes and I got a promo of that.

I never dug too deeply into the post-Bryan McLean era of the band, because Forever Changes really is one of the all-time awesome records, even if it does contain the lyric "Oh, the snot has caked against my pants."

Shine On You Crazy Diamond

Syd Barrett, the man who founded Pink Floyd, has died.

From the Associated Press:

LONDON (AP) -- Syd Barrett, the troubled genius who co-founded Pink Floyd but spent his last years in reclusive anonymity, has died, a spokeswoman for the band said Tuesday. He was 60.

The spokeswoman—who declined to give her name until the band made an official announcement—confirmed media reports that he had died. She said Barrett died several days ago, but she did not disclose the cause of death.

What a bummer. Pink Floyd was an almost entirely different animal under Syd's stewardship than it was when Roger Waters assumed control after Syd's breakdown. Floyd circa '67 were a psychedelic pop band with a dark edge, and even before he became rock's premiere acid casualty, Syd's songs had an unsettling undercurrent.

I had wanted to name our cat Fletcher "Lucifer Sam" after a song from The Piper at the Gates of Dawn, but my wife wouldn't let me. She thought it would be bad voodoo since Fletcher is a black cat.

And "Interstellar Overdrive" is the best rock instrumental ever.

Death of a Salesman

From the AP:

HOUSTON (AP) -- Enron Corp. founder Kenneth Lay, who was convicted of helping perpetuate one of the most sprawling business frauds in U.S. history, has died of a heart attack in Colorado. He was 64.

Call me a paranoid cynic, but when you're as connected as Ken Lay was, faking your own death, fleeing the country and then spending the rest of your life (and your ill-gotten gains) on a private island in the Caribbean isn't entirely out of the realm of possibility, no?

...And McCloud Makes Three

A bad week for the TV Land set.

I've never seen an epsidoe of McCloud, but I can recall falling asleep as the theme from the NBC Mystery Movie played in the living room. And Dennis Weaver gets mad phat props for starring in Duel, which is arguably Steven Spielberg's best movie. Yeah, I said it.

Carl Kolchak, Ralph Furley Dead

No way this guy was older than this guy. Of course, now it's a moot point.

As with half the people, places and things that get mentioned on this piece of shit, I have warm and fuzzy childhood memories of Darren McGavin and Kolchak: The Night Stalker. One in particular: I had pneumonia when I was 6 and I had to stay in the hospital on a Friday night. Since I had been sleeping off and on all day, I was wide awake that evening and into the night, so I watched Kolchak. I later found out it was the episode "Demon in Lace." Good times.

As for Don Knotts, I hated The Andy Griffith Show when I was a kid (I didn't care for "country shows"). It wasn't until later on that I could appreciate how well-drawn its characters were. And then later on, Knotts and his hairpiece turned up in Three's Company as the pervy landlord Ralph Furley. In the early 1980s, ABC reran Three's Company weekday mornings, and I watched it every day on summer vacation before switching over to The Price Is Right. More good times. It wasn't until later on that I could appreciate just how truly awful program Three's Company was.