Dan Fogelberg has died. His music touched me profoundly. I don't think I would be who I am today without his romantic, lovely, painfully beautiful muse touching my obdurate heart when I was a young man. I am not sure I could have even made it through my first year in college without his soulful, evocative voice.
The snow turned into ... rain.
I told my wife last night that I had always felt I would someday know the man. I feel that way about a number of musicians. I've always felt I'd someday be friends with Bruce Cockburn and Bono, to name but two others. But these hopes are naïve and woefully conceited -- as if I could ever be friends with these eminently talented men. And now Mr. Fogelberg's death -- at best -- delays my dream.
There is some small comfort knowing that Mr. Fogelberg came Down East to die; that he would choose the rugged coastline of New England as his final stop brings me some small sense that we shared at least one thing in common.
Here is a sunrise to set on your sill
the ghosts of the dawn moving near
they pass through your sorrow and leave you quite still
sitting among souvenirs
Peace to you, and Godspeed, my dear man. My heart… forever thankful.
©Bill Gnade 2007/Contratimes. All Rights Reserved.
15 comments:
I was thinking about Fogelberg and the fact that his album Nether Lands became the soundtrack for my first true love in college. The song Sketches pretty much describes the bookends of the relationship with the other tracks bringing back specific memories of that time. He will be missed.
Its funny. I wasn't a Fogelberg fan, however, an ex-girlfriend was absolutely in love with him and I came to appreciate his music through her.
Way too young to go. What a shame.
Randall,
I believe we've discussed Nether Lands in passing over a year ago. That album had a profound effect on me:
When I made by decision
my vision became my release
"Dancing Shoes" might be flat-out one of the most romantic songs ever; "Sketches" has some of the most romantic phrases I've ever heard.
Such a gift.
Peace.
Gnade
Dear Chris,
The reality is that I am a bit of a head-banger. I was a kid with a rock hard hard rock soul who happened to be introduced to Mr. Fogelberg's music by a girlfriend in 1980. I was on the rebound, still pining for my lost love, my first love from my senior year in high school. And though I had heard Mr. Fogelberg before, and had liked some of the stuff I had heard, I was simply blown out of my head when I heard Nether Lands. Somehow, buried deep within that album, I found my way out of grief (and it was real grief).
Of course, after listening to a few Fogelberg tunes, I always felt obliged to play a little Physical Graffiti to get my head over my heart. And then maybe a little blast of that crazy little trio from Canada, Rush (a few years later).
When I play tunes from my past, I am struck how many lovely romantic songs were part of what I thought was a thoroughly macho period. "Nights in White Satin," "Without You" (by Nilsson), are two that come quickly to mind.
Peace to you,
Gnade
(Did you ever read this, perhaps the most read piece here at Contratimes?)
Dear Randall,
You know, one of our first conversations via blogging was about Fogelberg.
See here.
Peace,
Gnade
(PS. Since I wrote the piece to which I've linked here, I would add that Snow Patrol's "Chasing Cars" is one of the most painfully romantic and poignant songs I've ever heard. Truly -- it makes me sob. In fact last winter, as I was cruising through NH's famed Franconia Notch on I-93 on my lonely trip home from an all-guys' ski weekend, coursing my way around Echo Lake and beneath the ruins of the "Old Man in the Mountain," "Chasing Cars" came on the radio. I sobbed -- just sobbed! -- for the next 30 miles.)
Bill, I'd forgotten about the earlier conversation. Call it "creeping senility."
Cheers.
Randall,
With all the things you read and write everyday, you could hardly be described as nearing senility!
Now, I am the one who is reminded daily of his diminishing capacities. It's a little bit scary, really. But it gives me something to do battle against, and that can only make for interesting days.
Peace to you,
BG
oh, I'm so sad!!
His recording The Innocent Age was so important to me.
Kim,
Yes, "The Innocent Age" was important to me, too. I remember your sharing its importance to you back in 2006 when we were discussing "romantic" rock music.
It is sad. I heard Graham Nash on Larry King two nights ago referring to Fogelberg as "this incredibly humble kid" who was just an incredible songwriter. I like that Fogelberg -- who could play just about any instrument -- was considered humble by his peers.
Peace,
BG
Bill,
I read your piece on the greatest rock song of all time and you leave me speechless...
...and yet, endeavoring to speak, the meaning you pull from the song is profound. One wonders if Waters and Gilmour were so moved. But perhaps this is what life is about, wringing the meaning out, like so much water from a sponge. And yet the analogy is weak because water goes into the sponge and soiled water comes out.
The wonderful thing about poetry is the meaning assigned by the writer is not the meaning assigned by the hearer.
Dear Chris,
I had a feeling you would like that essay. It was fun to write; I am grateful that you would tell me one way or the other how it impacted you.
You are right: It IS about wringing the meaning out of everything. I am reminded of Bruce Cockburn's great line:
'Got to kick at the darkness till it bleeds daylight.
Keep kicking, dear friend.
Peace!
Bill Gnade
Just popping in to wish you and yours a Merry Christmas.
Cheers.
Bill,
I hadn't checked your blog in a while but I wondered what your reaction to Fogelberg's passing would be. Apparently, you are no less enthusiastic about his music now than you were in our college dorm room a "few" years ago. Do you still have your Fogelberg and Moody Blues vinyl or are you an MP3 man now?
Peace,
-Bill
PS Are you going to do an essay on the Meredith Emerson story? The people that are saying she took excessive risks by going for a hike alone in the woods are making my blood boil.
Dear Bill,
I almost mentioned you and Roy in my brief comments about Dan Fogelberg. I know I drove you both crazy with my incessant playing of Fogelberg, the Moody Blues and John Michael Talbot. I often wonder if I am the subject of any college reminiscence on your parts: "My college roommate drove me crazy. Played Dan Fogelberg incessantly. Every time I hear a Fogelberg tune I have this urge to call my old hall director."
As for the vinyl, I do still have some. But I don't play discs at all; everything is pretty much in my laptop.
I was not planning to issue any comments about Ms. Emerson's story. I did hear several remarks made by concerned souls about hiking alone; as someone who regularly solo hikes, I can honestly say that the buddy system only comes to mind when I contemplate injury. The thought of abduction never crosses my mind (though one time I did fear I was going to get shot).
How sad that we can't be safe on the trails. Weird to think that if the story turns out as horrid as I fear, the man charged was not one whit concerned about killing a woman and yet was remarkably humane to her dog.
Peace to you, dear man.
Gnade
Bill,
I have been obsessed with this story. It upsets me in so many ways. I feel like not only has this woman, who is very likely dead, been horribly violated, but somehow an even greater violation against all of humanity has occurred which destroys or significantly diminishes the concept of escaping to the wilderness for peace, tranquility, oneness with nature, or whatever you want to call it.
I know this is not the first instance of violence in the woods nor will it be the last but for some reason this one really bothers me. Perhaps it is the strange attraction I have always felt for the Appalachian Trail or the fact that I have hiked in North Georgia, not far from the scene of the crime. It is almost like someone committed a murder in the National Cathedral. Sure, all murder is bad and wrong and ruins somebody’s whole day but somehow this seems so much worse.
I don’t want my wife and daughter’s to fear the wilderness. I don’t want to be “on my guard” when hiking. I hike in the woods to leave all that crap behind.
Another point of aggravation is the bloggers who accuse her of taking excessive risk. I just want to slap them. The last time I hiked in North Georgia, at Springer Mountain, the southern terminus of the AT, I chatted with a hiker I met on the trail that day. She was a grandmotherish woman hiking alone, enjoying being out in the woods. Anyone who says she was taking unnecessary and excessive risks is wrong. She belongs there!
-BW
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