Charlie Watts, the drummer for the Rolling Stones died this week. He was 80 years old. It was way too early for me to think about what I was going to write, but I knew it would have something to do with his passing. No, I am not about to launch into a musical eulogy, primarily because that is not what interests me.

In the mid-Sixties, I was living in the wonderful state of almost, in between the dependent child and the full-fledged, “I can take care of myself” young man. It was a very exciting time, filled with possibility. Music exploded into my life, taking on a level of importance I don’t know how to define in today’s vocabulary. You’d have to come back with me to that time. 

Magically, seemingly out of nowhere, we all became incredibly important. Young people had power. We were the news, all over the world. The soundtrack was music, made by our peers, which was incredible. The anti-war defiance, our social muscle, was orchestrated by the most incredible music any of us had ever heard. We knew all the musicians, able to recite their pedigree, as many of them moved from one group to another. We talked about them, our brothers and sisters, knowing what they were doing and whom they were doing it with. The music mattered in ways I find hard to describe, especially to those of you, who download artist after artist, one getting lost in the next. The music back then was forever and never thought of as disposable moments like today.

I think there are perfect moments, like a magnificent conspiracy of events, when all circumstance holds its breath and a split-second before it bursts open at the seams, something beautifully unexpected happens, exhaling and embracing perfection. For me and many of my contemporaries, it was the music. God, you had to be there, because I simply don’t have the vocabulary to paint the picture of those times.

Today, we are much too smart and too informed to think that music can intoxicate and take us away to the most wonderful places you could ever imagine. In so many ways, I consider myself to be incredibly lucky to have lived my life exactly when I have. For me, I guess it started with Elvis and I was thrilled to like him as much as I did, especially because parents everywhere thought he was the devil incarnate.

Back then, I was around 10 and I clearly remember feeling the power of owning this wild, undisciplined music. I was terribly young and so was this music. We grew up together and the stronger I felt as a young adult, the more the music spoke to me in a language that had no dictionary, because it was being written while it was happening, without precedent. I loved being young and thinking about that time now, I kind of smile and look off into the distance.

My memories of that long ago time bumped into the reality that Charlie was 80 years old. I am him and all those other musicians that created such unimaginable music. The reality of all those young people, my contemporaries, doing such fantastic music, now gets punched in the face by time, a cold as ice calendar of our impermanence. You know, your first reaction when you hear about someone dying is to feel bad for them, which I did. Then, I stepped back and caught my sadness, realizing he had a great run and lived a life, just like me, in a time we could only have dreamed about.

I remember thinking that old people simply didn’t understand what I thought was important. I knew the new cars whenever they came out and never thought a Desoto looked liked a Studebaker.  The feeling as a kid stayed with me for years to come. Music was a terrific barometer of age and the more parents disliked it, the more we did. I knew music was around forever. Classical music and opera was for people, who had trouble lifting themselves from the armchair. Jazz was kind of interesting, but it was for guys, who read Playboy and wore cardigans. R&B was kicking ass for years, but a little white boy from Queens was not terribly receptive, primarily because I didn’t understand. 

I feel very fortunate to have known Charlie Watts. Many of you have no idea who he was and that’s just fine. Man, I have had a run through some incredible times. It seemed like it was a series of firsts, things that had never been done before. Keep in mind, these were human accomplishments and not technological breakthroughs, a huge difference. Of course, now if I get too critical, I am just going to send like an old guy, God forbid!

Everything seems to be much more disposable now, an affliction of technology and the times. All those years ago, everything felt like forever. Youth is so fabulously intoxicating, everything is possible, at least that was the feeling back then. Who could ever have imagined Charlie Watts being 80 years old? Not me. It was wonderful to know the music was being created by my contemporaries. We owned the world. Today, I am sharing, because Charlie Watts died and time will go on.

RIP Charlie Watts

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