Only The Good Die Young

Upon completion of Brian Wilson’s biography, _Wouldn’t It Be Nice: My Own Story_, I was left emotionally floored. Written with an uninhibited candour that illuminated his darkest demons, Wilson’s self-deconstruction was shocking and edifying in equal parts, and ultimately served to highlight to me the symbiotic nature of genius and its insidious counterparts.

This gave me inspiration to engage in some research, and to expand my knowledge of the narratives of my favourite artists. In doing so, a disheartening trend quickly became apparent: their fleeting existence. Otis Redding, Robert Johnson, John Coltrane, Jimi Hendrix, Bob Marley, John Lennon, Marvin Gaye and Tupac: a list of luminaries that were taken well before their time, and largely still possessed that artistic edge and relevance to the very end. The sad thing is, we can now only postulate on the influence each might have continued to impart on their respective aural spaces – but in a way, I suppose that heightens the legend.

**Otis Redding (aged 26)**

At the time of that fatal plane crash, Redding’s career was in its infancy, yet already boasted an embarassing wealth of ‘deep soul’ classics. ‘Try A Little Tenderness’, particularly, was a hair’s breadth away from perfection. The subtle shift of the drums to double-time in the second verse and the vocal virtuosity displayed by Redding – as he transitions from a gentle, measured croon to an animalistic bark at its simmering crescendo – resulted in a truly spellbinding track. It exemplified Redding’s extraordinary ability to evoke pathos in each and every utterance. Incidentally, this track wasn’t even on Redding’s most successful record: _(Sittin’ On) The Dock Of The Bay_. In 1968 it became the first posthumous record to reach the number one spot on the Billboard Top 100 and R&B charts.

Redding was just beginning to garner appeal in the popular market, and had been inspired to write this record upon listening to _Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band_. Amusingly, the record company he was signed to throughout his career (Stax) were nonplussed by this new sound, yet Redding held steadfast, adamant that it would top the charts. How pertinent those words would prove to be.

_Songs to listen to_: ‘Try A Little Tenderness’, ‘Respect’, ‘Hard To Handle’

**Robert Johnson (aged 27)**

Robert Johnson is a fascinatingly unique relic of the Mississippi Delta blues era. As an itinerant singer who largely plied his trade on street corners and small town halls, he received minimal commercial and public success or fame in his own lifetime, which ended in 1938. It wasn’t until twenty-three years after his death – when his complete recordings were reissued and remastered – that he received the exaltation that his twenty-nine-strong magnum opus deserved.

Legend has it that Johnson sold his soul in a Faustian pact at a nearby crossroads, in exchange for his silky guitar skills. Regardless of the mythology, it’s easy to understand what makes Johnson such a lauded musician. In my eyes, it was his ability to imbue each track with such visceral emotion, and a sense of time and place that really shines through. ‘Crossroad Blues’ is a poignant track that tackles the sense of loneliness and desperation which engulfed the black community in the deep-south during the twilight hours. The fear of lynching was all-pervading; a reality that Johnson delivers with a harrowing intensity.

_Songs to listen to_: ‘Sweet Home Chicago’, ‘Crossroad Blues’, ‘I Believe I’ll Dust My Broom’

**John Coltrane (aged 40)**

Coltrane was a maverick: a highly expressive artist who – particularly in the last few years of his life – set out to subvert genre conventions by imparting an acquired spirituality into his compositions. _A Love Supreme_ represented Coltrane at his most experimental; entailing a four-part suite that was laced with themes of purity, penitence and desire. As a complete neophyte of the genre, I can’t claim to fully appreciate the mechanical intricacies at play here, but as an exercise in artistic expression, it resonates due to its rich narrative.

Coltrane’s avant-garde pieces were great, but for me, his best work evolved from a more reductive approach, as observed in his 1964 collaboration with Duke Ellington. ‘In A Sentimental Mood’ is a particular triumph: a beautifully maudlin ballad that evokes vivid imagery through Coltrane’s syrupy-smooth sax, and Ellington’s measured piano tinkles.

_Songs to listen to_: ‘In A Sentimental Mood’, ‘Giant Steps’