No soapbox this week. Sorry, I know I’ve been up there a lot lately, and you know what they say of opinions and assholes and all that…
I go running every morning. It’s something I do. At this point, I’m not sure whether I enjoy it, or I’ve got a problem—there’s a very fine line. This isn’t about that, though. I have a regular path I run on every morning before work, one that I like because it’s a decent area, but also there’s not much traffic at 3:30 in the morning. Occasionally, there are other runners, people out walking the dog, but for the most part it’s dark, quiet, and cool (soon it will be cold, but that’s another matter). Nothing much happens, I just listen to a podcast and do my thing.
Which is why it was simultaneously jarring and slightly mystical when I happened upon a pack of coyotes slinking their way across Missouri Ave, just north of Central. There were three of them that I saw—two ahead of a third, who stood frozen. They didn’t make a move to approach me, and I was waiting to let them pass, but this last one seemed determined to see me go first—much to the apparent chagrin of the other two, whose attitude exuded an air of, “Come on, man, what the hell are you waiting for?”—so I carried on my way, and then they went theirs. That was it. It was Monday morning, October 2nd. Later that day, the news came down of Tom Petty’s death. I couldn’t help thinking that those coyotes were somehow connected.
It seems like we’ve lost an overwhelming amount of iconic musicians lately. This is bound to happen. Life is one long, inexorable march past the end of the cliff. Some people sprint ahead and skip to the end, impatient perhaps, and then others are propelled forward, or pulled forward maybe, taken when it seems they still have work to do, and it is no less tragic to lose those that wait out the plot. There’s always a little twinge of hurt, the sense of some string being cut, but there are a few where it feels as though you’ve lost a limb, the musicians whose songs have woven an inextricable sense-memory into the threads of our personal histories. Joe Strummer, The Go-Betweens’ Grant McLennan, and now, Tom Petty.
This week, Jason Woodbury and I sit and discuss what Tom Petty meant to us—the songs we love, the memories they’re linked to. It’s a personal appreciation, a tribute from two lifelong fans—a conversation that I think anyone who can remember where they were when they first played their Full Moon Fever cassette, or when they first saw The Heartbreakers descending the escalator in the “Free Fallin'” video with “all the vampires walking through the valley” can relate to and maybe take something from.