It seems that whenever a well-known rock 'n roll, soul, or hip hop musician dies, people take to social media to mourn him or her. There is definitely a collective aspect to this modern version of public tributes. It might seem cliche at this point, but this is how people in the 2020s mourn their musicians, athletes, and other cultural figures.

There is something especially poignant about musicians dying that touches people my age, as well as older and younger. Musicians create the soundtracks for our days and nights. We identify with their music and feel their loss.

The first time I really noticed this was after John Lennon was killed in October 1980. Certainly, it impacted my community and me at large, because it happened in our own city. I still recall what my mom told me when she awakened me that morning. I remember how everyone at Murrow HS was talking about the awful crime.

When Kurt Cobain died, I felt a gut punch because he committed suicide just two days before I turned 30. I'd enjoyed Nirvana and had missed seeing them in concert because I didn't want to stand in a long line during the New Music Seminar one summer. Radio stations played a lot of Nirvana songs in the days following.

When Adam Yauch of the Beastie Boys died, it was especially jarring for me because he had been at Murrow HS with me (but transferred out after our junior year). I remember talking about this at work with a few other teachers, when our Assistant Principal stormed in and told us to stop wasting time, talking about some rock star's death. That may have been the only time at Lincoln HS that I burst into tears, and shouted at the AP because he was mocking me for crying about a fellow classmate's passing. He walked away without apologizing. 

Other musicians' deaths have touched me, from Prince to David Bowie, all the original Ramones (especially Dee Dee, whom I'd met, and Joey because to me he was the heart of the band), Ella Fitzgerald, and Ronnie Spector, BB King to Joe Strummer of the Clash, and many others.

I remember being saddened by Merle Haggard's death because he died on his birthday, which is the day before mine. Some of my friends couldn't understand why I'd care about an "old country music musician," and it just showed me that there is definite snobbery toward musical styles and genres. 

When Jerry Garcia of the Grateful Dead died, I came home to my answering machine full of messages from friends, mourning his loss. I froze by the radio, listening to the news reports.

I write this two hours after finding out that David Crosby died, just days after learning of guitarist Jeff Beck's death, and the deaths of a few lesser-known musicians (Robbie Bachman, Jeremiah Green of Modest Mouse, Van Connor of Screaming Trees).

I never saw Crosby in concert. And now, never will. Damn.