No, not that Messiah.
This Messiah:
Actually, that’s not true. We won’t see Roy Buchanan again, since he left us back in 1988. Yet another unspeakably distressing musician suicide. Or was it?
(Buchanan has always been of more than purely artistic interest to me, as he hailed from my hometown and died in Fairfax County, Va. Like another woefully underappreciated guitarist, Danny Gatton –also from D.C.; also a suicide– Roy seemed predestined as the type of artist that people had to catch up to: casual listeners are not interested in, or capable of comprehending this type of virtuosity and intensity. Only with time, and successive generations of intelligent and adventurous listeners, does the legend accrue. The only fate more perplexing –and depressing– than this one are the brave and talented artists who never find any type of audience, for whatever reason. Mostly it is we, the listeners, who are most enriched from the exchange: all of that pain, all of that practice, all of that production, all available anytime for anyone who knows where to look and how to listen.)
The bad news (as usual): he was admired and loved, but not enough, while he was with us. We lost him and will never see him again.
The good news (as always): whenever a great artist dies too soon, it’s a tragedy for all involved; but while the fans are deprived of more joy, they are fortunate to have whatever the genius left behind. Lucky for us, he left plenty of solace for those who will always regret his departure.
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Version 2
