Steve Backer Dies

I don't like it when people I know die.

I was just sitting in my car, checking my email to see who abused me. That's the nature of life, being misunderstood. We yearn to be known, and the end result is we're not, we pass from this life, vanish into thin air, but our presence, our identity, had an impact upon others.

Backer went to Camp Laurelwood. That was our connection. And Connecticut. After you graduate from college, after you leave your hometown, it's threads like this that bond you. We weren't there at the same time, but we shared the experience. And every time I saw Steve he mentioned it to me.

The nature of the internet is it's addictive, so not being able to get off my iPhone, I decided to surf the web, to see what was up, and that's when I saw Steve's picture. He passed.

And suddenly there's a vortex, all the air inside you funnels out and you're confronted with your own mortality. Because if Steve is gone, I can be gone too.

And now
___________________________

And that's where I stopped last night, fearful my screed would be more about me than Steve.

Fifty eight is not young if you're twenty five.

But if you're closer to the end of the movie than the beginning, fifty eight is way before your time. It's after you've gotten comfortable in your skin, but before you've been able to lead the life you choose, which is what aging is all about, knowing you won't be here forever so you might as well forge your own path, it doesn't matter what anybody else thinks, as long as you're not breaking the law...

I hadn't seen Backer recently. The last time was about eighteen months ago, in Steve Rennie's backyard. At least I think it was there then, memories get hazy the more you have of them. And he was just the same, with that impish smile on his face, the intimate conversation, the feeling of camaraderie... That was the thing about Steve, even if you hadn't seen him for a long time there was no uncomfortableness, he acted like you were in constant contact.

He rode the music business rails to the end, the major label gigs dried up, he went indie and then he went into real estate, because a great salesman can sell anything, and those who've worked in the promotion end of things...are playing a game of musical chairs, but if their seat is stolen it doesn't matter, they'll find another.

Not that Backer exuded extreme confidence. That's what made you feel you knew him, the way he said he'd give it a shot. In Hollywood everybody's overbearing. Their record is the biggest, they're on their way to beating the world, they're the toppermost of the poppermost. But Backer could express reservations, could wonder what the future held, which is why...

Whenever I saw him the conversation did not end. There were no moments of uncomfortableness, we just jumped right in.

Not that he was a saint, none of us are, he was just another guy on the golden road, bitten by the music bug, and now he's gone.

And here we are left.

Time marches on, eventually you get back in the saddle, but the losses stay with you, the people who are gone live on in you mind in ways they cannot conceive. Think you're irrelevant? Just wait til you pass, people are gonna think about you all the damn time.

You don't want to be the last to go. I've seen that movie. You're ninety five, all your friends are gone, no one's around who experienced what you did...

But you don't want to leave the party early.

That's star talk, people who believe they're leaving a legacy, who think life is about image.

No one cares. No one. Scratch the surface of a famous artist and you'll find someone riddled with loneliness. Your heroes are the most confused.

But the everyday people, the unheralded ones, they keep this country going, they're the fabric of it. The ones you're relaxed around, that make you feel like you belong.

The emptiness is palpable. I've been off-kilter since getting the news.

Because we're a tribe, and every member counts, and when one disappears, you know eventually your turn will come.

But what will the fade-out look like? When will you give up running? When will you give up working? Will you don the hearing aids, will you struggle to stay hip and au courant, or will you accept your fate and fade away.

These are the questions baby boomers are now confronted with. They thought they'd live forever. But now the ranks are thinning, the baton's being passed, and they feel uncomfortable, they don't know what to do with themselves. They can go to Desert Trip to reconnect with what once was, then they look at the Grammy nominations and just don't care, it's an alternative universe. They remember when everybody listened to the radio and everybody knew the same songs and having a hit was anathema.

But maybe everybody believes they lived through the golden age.

Steve Backer was stopped too soon. He won't experience the twists and turns of aging. Which is a crime, even Pete Townshend really didn't hope to die before he got old.

But that's what's happening. We're gaining weight and shriveling with wrinkles.

But when we talk about what once was, whether it be Woodstock or Watkins Glen or WNEW...

There's a spark in our eye and a lilt in our voice that's infectious.

Steve Backer had that spirit.

We all do.

Keep yours burning, the light will go out before you know it, don't hesitate, follow your dream, keep on keepin' on.

It's all you can do.


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