Re: Dan Fogelberg Dead At 56
Toronto Star:
Dan Fogelberg, 56: Singer-songwriter
Dec 17, 2007 07:15 AM
Richard Ouzounian
Entertainment Reporter
The troubador of might-have-been has sung his final song.
Dan Fogelberg, the singer-songwriter whose melodies about feelings kept unspoken and loves left unrequited touched the hearts of a generation, died yesterday morning at the age of 56.
He passed away at his home in Maine with his wife Jean at his side after a three-year struggle with prostate cancer.
Born Daniel Grayling Fogelberg in Peoria, Ill., on Aug. 13, 1951,his mother was a pianist and his father a high school band director (and the inspiration for his hit “Leader of the Band”).
After an eclectic early musical career, working as a folk singer and session musician for the likes of Van Morrison, he broke through in 1974 with his song “Part of the Plan.”
Over the next decade, he released numerous gold and platinum albums, two of them created with jazz flutist Tim Weisberg.
His 1979 anthem of love, “Longer,” was his most successful song, but his career took a different turn with his double album song cycle The Innocent Age, released in October 1981.
In it, Fogelberg seemed to have found his true voice, but it was one made up of melancholy and regret.
Three of the giant hits from that recording, all of which still maintain their popularity today, touch on the necessity of grabbing the right moment or spending the rest of one’s life regretting it.
“Run for the Roses” declares that “Your fate is delivered/Your moment’s at hand/It’s the chance of a lifetime/In a lifetime of chance.”
Yet more often than not, the chances slipped away. “Leader of the Band” is a tribute to the major role his father had in shaping his life, but it ends with the realization that “I don’t think I said `I love you’ near enough.”
And most famously, “Same Old Lang Syne,” frequently played at this time of year, tells of two old lovers meeting in a convenience store on Christmas Eve who “tried to reach beyond the emptiness/But neither one knew how.”
In a way, Fogelberg spent the next 13 years of his career in the same empty fashion, futilely trying to reconnect with the public the way he had with his earlier songs.
He moved from bluegrass to rock, from social songs to more elegiac pieces and the critics acclaimed him, but finding a new vessel for the perfect plaintive note that his woodwind of a voice captured in the early ’80s remained elusive.
In the end, he sang one kind of song so well that his fans never really wanted to hear him sing any other. Maybe that was our tragedy as much as his.
In an interview with the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel in 1997, he said those songs weren’t really a reflection of what he was like. “I’m not a dour person in the least. I’m actually kind of a happy person.”
But that’s the living legacy to the leader of the band.
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