On Monday morning, I woke up earlier than my usual 4:30 am. Anything before the alarm sounds is an unwelcomed surprise, but it happens. For some reason, I checked my Soundcloud account on this morning and found that AlleyCoop (stage name for my youngest son) had a new song there. Listening to music before daylight requires me to get out of bed and go to the other side of the house, so everyone else can continue sleeping (especially my wife). So I did that. The first thing I heard was a guitar riff, which I had heard the day before emanating from Cooper's bedroom. That was followed by the solemn voice saying "Rest in Peace Juice Wrld", which led right into a song which was both poetic and peaceful. To be clear, this was not an original song. Cooper was performing the Juice Wrld song "Legends", which Juice Wrld wrote about the death of XXXtentacion, but Copper's version changed some of the lyrics so that it was now about the death of Juice Wrld himself. As soon as I was done listening to Cooper's version, I had to go back and hear the original Juice Wrld version, which I had never heard before. In a word, SAD! So much talent clearly now lost. In this single song I could hear that he was a thoughtful lyricist, intelligent enough for deep self-reflection, yet somehow blind to the obvious pitfalls of a life complicated by drugs.
Just a day earlier, I had been driving home from a morning trip to the gym when my radio passed along the terrible, but too common, news of a young rapper who had died. This time it happened to be in Chicago, but history says it could have been Any City, USA. After the obligatory Sirius commercial break and a recap of other news, I was apprised that the deceased rapper was Juice Wrld, who had apparently died early this Sunday morning. Sadly, part of me was initially unmoved, as I am certain many 50ish adults received this news. I had no idea who Juice Wrld was. Then, I remembered he had come to Oklahoma City for a concert in 2019, which my son and some of his friends had attended.
Full disclosure: I had never heard a single Juice Wrld song and would not recognize his photo. My only exposure to the name was when my now 18 year old had asked if he and some friends could go to the Juice Wrld concert. Like any dad, I felt like I should ask some question(s) before offering approval. So I asked "who's concert is it?" The reply "Juice World" provoked another question: "is that a person or a group?' As I later learned, the performer Juice Wrld has an actual name, Jarad Higgins.
I can remember being absolutely devastated as a high schooler, over the death of this musician or that one. Now that had all come full circle, because in the grand scheme of life (which my parents no doubt understood back in the day), it is difficult to find time to properly mourn family members and close friends, much less famous strangers. All that aside, it hurt a little to hear that Juice Wrld had recently celebrated his 21st birthday. Our family just celebrated a 21st birthday in August for my older son, Ford. I don't even allow myself to think such frightening thoughts, so it seems overwhelming to be forced to deal with the reality of losing a child at that age.
I texted both my sons to see if they were aware of Juice Wrld's death. That's how it works in 2019, at least for me. The reality of a young man losing his life reminds me how fragile and valuable life is, which reminds me to communicate with my sons. That felt strange on a Sunday morning, on my way home from the gym, before coffee and church.
For perspective, music is something my family has shared since the boys were very young. I can remember the rides to school, when they were both in elementary, singing along to the radio. I can remember the conversations about what music they liked and why. I can remember when the shift happened, around middle school, and they began introducing me to new artist (like Frank Ocean), rather than the other way around. Finally, I can remember the awkward, lingering, and repetitious conversation about the deaths of various musicians. That conversation is apparently timeless. I could have had it with my parents and they could have had it with theirs. The names, faces, and drugs change; but the song remains the same.
Both my sons replied that they were aware of Juice Wrld's death. My youngest stated plainly, "Juice did a lot of drugs when he was younger, but he was trying to clean up". It struck me how that sentence should not apply to any 21 year old. It seemed like a more appropriate statement about middle-aged rock stars. It also makes for interesting stories later in a music career, see also The Rolling Stones, The Beatles, AC/DC, Motley Crue, et cetera. My reply was in this age of downloads and streaming, "unfortunately, he will have more streams now than he ever had when he was alive". As I fired off that text reply, I had no idea I would soon be one of the streamers. Later, it struck me that this was not a new phenomena. The exact same thing could have been said of Andrew Wood, Jimi Hendrix, and Kurt Cobain. We've moved from albums and CD's to streaming, but we still haven't figured out how to intercede on behalf of the tortured souls among us. Those who struggle to make sense of (as opposed to writing songs about) the distance and cruelty, we accept as normal in this world. That however, is a tale for another day.
After church, my younger son Cooper was in his bedroom as he is most days, if he's not at a friends house "recording". From my bedroom, I could hear the beginnings of a new guitar riff. That is an ever-present sound in our house, either the keyboard or the guitar, as Coop lives and breathes music. That was followed by loud vocals, which come across strangely when he is recording because he hears the entire songs through headphones, whereas all I can hear is a single instrument or one part of a vocal harmony. A voice or instrument can sound out of place without the accompaniment of the other musical parts. It's not until later, when I hear the entire song that it all makes sense. That process continued for most of the afternoon. Then, Cooper popped his head in and asked if he could go to Bradley's house. This too is a very common routine these days.
By way of introduction, Bradley is an Edmond kid whose full name is Bradley Ombachi. Even though, I haven't met him in person, I have developed an immense respect for his skills as a producer. That's right, a 17 year old Oklahoma kid is a very talented music producer, whose name will be well-known at some time in the future, just not sure when. For now, a trip to Bradley's house is my clue that new music is coming soon. So my Monday morning treat was reconnected to the Sunday evening trip to "do music".
And so it goes, the oddity of what is now 10 or 12 teenage boys recording rap/pop/R&B songs in Oklahoma and doing it at a fairly high level. Their influences can come from anywhere in the world, even from the Juice Wrld, and change frequently. The fact that they live in Oklahoma is no longer a complete disconnection from the latest in what music is popular across the globe. 20 years ago, it would have taken years for Juice Wrld to reach Oklahoma, if he reached us at all. Today, his loss motivated a high school kid in Oklahoma to share his musical connection by covering his song "Legends." If you listen, you can hear the connection from AlleyCoop to Juice Wrld. Despite some rough language in spots, the Juice Wrld version is still a beautiful song. Imagine that, this song from a Chicago kid, who grew to millions of streams on Soundcloud; without a contract, label, or significant promotion. Then, at 21 years old, a time when his career was literally just beginning and he was finally signed to a label, died.
R.I.P. sounds trite to the point of meaninglessness. I've said it and written it so many times over the years, for musicians young and not-so-young, whose lives have ended prematurely. But it's still better said than unsaid, so R.I.P. it is!
