Ikey Owens, the keyboard player for Jack White was in the prime of his career has entered the wheat field and left behind a legacy. A poet in his own right. A poet of sound, of tone, of tune and tenacity. The rhythmic mystery and magical twinkle of genius. Here and there do the great ones appear out of the bright light and for such a short time do they dazzle before once again heading off on that narrow highway into the red sunset. And there we wait and wonder and ponder the reasons and the meanings and the what ifs and should bes and nothing more can be deciphered from the paint by numbers picture but mere illusion. And for a moment you feel like you are suffocating but it is a loss you have felt before. The sound of the music hits you like you are in a fish bowl. But the storms calm and the weather moves along but there are always those days that feel like autumn. Those October moments where the nostalgia rocks you and the music savagely tugs and wrenches it's way through you. Some create to it and others cry. But it is universal the appeal as is the sadness from the loss. So instead of the melancholy it is celebration that is in order with the bang of a giant cannon of music into a neon night of dancing, smiles and remembrance. An immensely talented man who once performed with the Long Beach Dub All-Stars could be likened to Damien Hurst in terms of music ingenuity or simply the John Coltrane of his profession. He had the world at his fingertips though his life was cut short while on tour with White in Mexico and he will be missed. The cause of his death has not yet been released.
Owens joined White in 2012 for his solo debut Blunderbuss. He also played with numerous other acts like Sublime, and Mastodon among others. It is hard for young people to fully grasp the finality of loss. The idea that someone was there one day and gone the next, especially someone with great influence like a musician. I don't know if people fully understand the magnitude for which music moves us as humans. For many people struggling through the day to day grind of life, the broken relationships, the bad marriages, or just enjoying the good times with friends music is both that which helps us to escape and makes us feel even that much more alive. It is something that touches us across every facet of our being and makes us want to rage, or dance, or make love, or dream, or paint, or touch the sky. The creators of that music to many people become intertwined with their own beings and when a great musical giant like Ikey Owens dies so does a small part of those whom the music moved so deeply. When people like John Coltrane, Elvis, Brad Nowell, Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin, Kurt Cobain and others passed at such young ages the fans felt an emptiness and hollowness practically as if they lost a member of their own family. It is not weird or creepy but a significant realization that music is that powerful and meaningful to us as humans. Ikey Owens was merely 38 years old. In some sense he was just beginning his life despite having experienced and accomplished so much. Doesn't it seem sometimes that those that experience so much so young and quickly are the more likely to meet early death? Of course that isn't true but philosophically it could be argued. But then one could ask why have members of the Rolling Stones that experienced as much as anyone else not been struck down? There are two or three sides of nearly every argument that can be put to the debate hall of any Bowery poolroom, but at the end of it all is the lone highway we all eventually take. Whether that journey is expected, welcome or feared it is inevitable. Nobody knows what to expect. There are many ideas and even one or two experiences, but for each and everyone it will be their own personal journey and may it be filled with music.
There are some out there that feel cheated and may be angry with Ikey for leaving us so soon. The young people will take it the hardest. But the music will live on. One day you will be walking along down Hudson or First Avenue and through a boom box from some fire escape you will hear Ikey's music floating through the warm humid night. And you may stop and lean against the brick or brownstone and close your eyes and memories or nostalgia will lift you up into the lights and silence of the city nights. There will be Ikey smiling from behind that keyboard, fingers moving like the tides of some blue ocean somewhere in your own little corner of the world. The thing about music is that we all like our own style of music and there are those certain songs that in the privacy of our own galaxy we play over and over like OCD freak maniacs. That strum of the guitar or the steady pop of the snare drum that captivates you like a drunk salmon trying to swim up the waterfall while the bears stand around laughing and slapping each other's shoulders. Those warm fuzzy euphoric feelings that some of you may mistaken for a sophomoric post-coital acid flashback are really the sensation of the music seeping into your skin and your soul. Music that tickles the ears of God. Music that can silence the ferocity of a battle or take us away to simpler times. There were once simpler times. Quiet evenings sitting before the black and white keys of an old piano at four in the morning, the flickering shadows of a candle light dancing along to the music.
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