Elvis is dead. Sad, but true.
Scatman John, however faked it. He is living it up at an obscure jazz joint in the metro northeast, performing once a week for a crowd who ain't saying SHIT.
Janis Joplin tailgated me in a late 90's pickup this morning. She always was a dodgy bird, and I suspect she had a hand in Perry Ferrel's formative years.
Jerry Garcia runs a suspiciously well stocked music store in a slowly yuppifying section of the Irish Riviera. Non-liquor stores routinely pop up and fold around him, yet he remains. The town has NO live music scene, yet there he is... Who stocks bagpipes anyways?
Musicians over a certain level of income all have access to this. It's like an escape clause. Put down the money and the fame, back up slowly, and "they" will make certain you have a good, stable life. Just once of many services they provide.
Cobain is still gone. He was DONE. really done. You could see it in his eyes. Deal with it. Life after life is only for the ones willing to keep going, after all.
