There’s an underlying mathematical truth to human life. At age 20 you most likely have your whole life to live over three more times. By 30 you’re down to roughly two more shots. At 40 you’ve only one more spin and from there on in there’s a countdown clock edging its way into ill health and ever reduced physical and mental agility. A series of predictions: in the next ten to fifteen years we’ll bear witness to the deaths of most anyone who was in at the birth of rock n’ roll and its successor, pop. We’ll lose a majority of the 70s rock generation too, the casualties among the punk pioneers will mount and there’ll be early finishes amid the beautiful young things of the early 80s. “Time, ladies and gentlemen please!” We’re witnessing the passing of an era into history. David Bowie was born in 1947; he was 18 in 1965 – teenage fans of that bygone age have passed their mid-sixties. Soon the people who saw Hendrix in his pomp; caught Cream at the Royal Albert Hall; wept at the breakup of the Beatles – they’ll be living relics thrust before TV cameras to tell us of … Continue reading Never Ever Gonna Get Old: on the passing of pop stars