I despise those who'd trade on tragedy. It's tawdry and unethical. And, in the case of some operators, it's despicably opportunistic. This is one of the main reasons I attempt to avoid glowing eulogies for famous people - especially on social media and particularly on here - which is a platform solely mine.
But that's quite possibly because I am far too cynical and full of shit. I do not want to be seen as one of these slimy "cool by association" types I so loathe. But then a friend of mine - upon asking me if I was going to write about the untimely death of South African porkrock legend, George Bacon, and getting the above answer - put it beautifully into perspective and told me I was being a doos.
I'd like to start by making it clear that we were not close friends. Yeah, a few drinks have been shared, and a few hearty laughs, but it is our association in the music industry that made us acquaintances. That is not to say that he didn't command huge respect from me, and the rest of the community. That much, in the last few days, is patently obvious. I remember the first thing I ever said to him went something along the lines of "Dude, I hate your music, but I have to tell you how well your CD is selling..." which, at the time, was a monumental departure from my all pervasive dick-headedness and my point black refusal to acknowledge anything other than My Dying Bride.
But write a tribute piece I will, nonetheless. George, as most of you will know, was possibly one of the most affable individuals ever to grace our little music scene, and well beyond. I think that was one of the endearing qualities of his that made him stand out among his peers, most of which were far too preoccupied with their own little successes to be anything other than arseholes, myself on top of the pile. His undeniable ability to enrapture a crowd, no matter how big or small, goes without saying. His infectious lust for life (as seen from the vantage point of a relative outsider) was the stuff of legend. And the longevity and astounding success of his band, Hog Hoggidy Hog, testament to the man's musical talent.
The sheer volume of communal condolence on Facebook attests to his enormous popularity, and rightly so, bar one or two contemptible parasites. In a rare moment of proper reverence, I would like to take this opportunity to join rank with the bereaved masses and add to their voice my own. To those George has left behind: his family, friends and followers, my deepest sympathies. The world is a poorer place for his untimely departure. To those of my friends especially who knew him well, cherish the many fond memories you have of this special, crazy, jumping, singing, laughing, smiling, hugging, loving man...
George, give Davey a hug for me.
Spread The Love.
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