R.I.P.: Stan Lee

A person I have had diverse and contradictory feelings about since I was seven years old. (And didn’t even know who he was — though somebody had be putting out these wacky monster comics.)

But my philosophy is that once someone passes from this world, they are free to live on in your imagination however you like. So other folks can be all “Ah, wow!” about those movie drop-ins. I will always dwell on my mid-60s fantasy of the folks who turned comics as exciting as rock and roll — seemed even to be a printed extension of the music. Overseeing it all — a way-cool head honcho, not the be-all and end-all he was much later.

For that guy, “IT’S CLOBBERIN’ TIME!” now and forever.

R.I.P.: Tony Joe White

I was a serious fan, but he ripped my brains open at a solo club show where we saw him command a room like a full band for every second he was onstage and confirmed that “Polk Salad Annie” was as absurd, profound and moving as every impression you got over the years. And that he was a veteran, ace road-songstrer.

Don’t be a wimp — get the Collected.

R.I.P.: Dr. Larry Martin

Which is what we called him when I took his BU disinformation class in 1979.

As you can tell, very witty, yet made sharp, even corrosive points. One story I remember is that he mentioned learning Elvis Presley songs on acoustic guitar “so young people would trust us at parties.”

One of the most informative and enlightening classes I ever attended.

R.I.P.: Rachid Taha

My ideal political and fusionist international performer. I snatched up everything I could find by him and he was a regular on the house soundtrack. I could not begin to improve on this guide to his albums, not least because I agree with nearly every point. Stinks to lose the fighters. Do a show with Joe Strummer in Paradise tonight, Rachid. He was seven years younger than me.