The Day The Music Died

On February 3, 1959 a small plane went down in Iowa. Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens and J.P. "the Big Bopper" Richardson were all killed and a nation mourned the loss of three rock and roll pioneers. As with any high-profile death, speculation followed, but the real focus of the event was the staggering blow the crash dealt to the music industry.

Don McLean's iconic song "American Pie" went so far as to label that tragic day in early February as "the day the music died." Many people undoubtedly felt that way, but over time their wounds healed and life went on -- the music kept playing.

And while that record spun we saw legends come and legends go, each time saying there would never be a match but inevitably kneeling again at the altar of rock royalty when someone new came along to revolutionize our culture and change our perception.

Since 1959, we've seen the meteoric rise and fall of such legends as Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Elvis Presley, John Lennon and Kurt Cobain, to name only a few.

Yesterday we lost our latest legend, arguably the biggest one to have ever graced a stage.

Michael Jackson, his questionable personal life aside, was not just an innovator of pop music, not just the man behind the moonwalk and not just the artist behind the greatest selling record of all time.
He was a voice. A voice that represented a generation facing emerging problems like AIDS while still trying to battle the racial issues of their past. He spoke up and he did so with a falsetto so flawless it almost seemed inhuman.

When I was listening to the radio on my way to work this morning, the DJs discussing Jackson's death were stuck on the fact that there would never be another. They seemed sure that yesterday truly was the day the music died.

I think they're selling us all short.

Don't get me wrong, there will never be another Michael Jackson. There will never be another Thriller, and no one will ever so suavely pull off a single glove.

But as a musical generation we, too, will have our revolution. After all, we're the generation that elected our nation's first black president.

We will change the fabric of musical history and, in doing so, our children and grandchildren will be forced to push themselves artistically to come up with something new, something revolutionary, something legendary. And that's how it should be.

But we won't make that history if we sit on our laurels and lament that we will never be a match (and who wants to be just a match, anyway?). The music industry is in a strange state, a transition period with no clear sign of where that transition will lead. It's time for a hero, a legend, to step in and save the music.

This is a call to artistic arms. Get out there and find this generation's legend. Or hell, if you think you've got what it takes, become a legend yourself. The music should never die, and only we hold in our hands the power to make sure it never does.

In the meantime, honor the music. Mourn. Listen to your favorite Michael Jackson song on repeat (for me, when I got fed up with the radio this morning, that was 1991's "Black or White"). Then move on and let the music do the same.

Photo: LOS ANGELES, CA - JUNE 26: Fans of Michael Jackson pass by his star to pay their respects on the Walk of Fame on June 26, 2009, a day after his death in Los Angeles, California. Jackson, 50, the iconic pop star, died after going into cardiac arrest on June 25 in Los Angeles, California. (Photo by John Moore/Getty Images)