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It has been a decidedly bad few weeks for lovers of 70s rock, in all it’s splendour - be it Glam, Heavy or Country flavoured.

In depressingly short order, we’ve lost genuine “Rock God” Lemmy, he of the gruffest of voices and heaviest of bands, the mighty Motorhead.

Soon after that, David Bowie left us, a man whose ever-changing style saw him cover more than just rock, and more than just music too, and truly worthy of being called a legend.

Within the last couple of weeks, Glenn Frey, co-founder of the Eagles, passed away. Capable of making easy-listening country rock sound effortless, the level to which his songs have ingrained themselves into a generation’s minds is incredible.

Dale Griffin’s name may not be so familiar, but as drummer with Mott The Hoople, he played an important part in shaping the sound of classic British rock. There may have been less coverage, but his recent death compounds the uncomfortable feeling that we’re losing a lot of great musicians, who helped to soundtrack growing up for anyone in the general region of 50.

Not content with taking some of greats from the 70s, it seems the 80s aren’t immune from tragedy either. Colin Vearncombe, better known as Black and singer of the brilliant “Wonderful Life”, died this week after being in a coma following a car accident.

So why do we mourn our musical heroes so much? For many of them, the huge riches they accumulated through their success enabled them to live lifestyles most of us can only dream about. Whilst chucking TV’s out of hotel windows might not suit everyone, it’s widely acknowledged that some of the recently deceased did far more than a bit of television destruction, and lived a lifestyle of “excess all areas”, consuming huge amounts of drugs and alcohol, and generally being so far off the rails it’s a surprise they lasted as long as they did.

For some, age brought wisdom and a less wild existence, but surely we shouldn’t be mourning people who you would rarely describe as setting a good example?

But maybe that’s it; they did the things we couldn’t afford to – financially, morally or physically –were larger than life, and seemingly fuelled by industrial-strength talent.

Rightly or wrongly, we looked up to them. They were the great ones, our icons. Makers of the music that spoke to us and moved us when we were at a point in life when anything seemed possible, and the future (and mortality) were somewhere unseen over the horizon.

So we haven’t just lost some of the great talents of the era, we’ve had that fragility of existence brought sharply into focus. Aren’t Rock Gods supposed to be immortal? Well, the songs and the memories live on, but the creators are starting to slip away.

Thinking of going to a gig by one of rock’s veterans, but can’t quite find the time to fit it in? Recent events suggest you shouldn’t leave it too long.

Rock on.

This post first appeared as my "Thank grumpy it's Friday" column, in the North West Evening Mail, on the 29th of January 2016. No sign of it on their website thus far, but keep an eye out here if you're interested.

 This one, sadly, had to have a last-minute re-write. The original version, written at the weekend, included a paragraph on how the 80s seemed to be the next target for the grim reaper, mentioning Black's condition. His death mid-week made the irony very bitter indeed.

(CD A:Z still on ELO, and the last album before a long silence - 1986's Balance Of Power. Happily, Jeff Lynne is a 70s rocker currently still with us. Long may it stay that way.)
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