"teenage genius who rose to become,
for a short and incandescent moment,
the most successful producer in rock and roll"
"He found his salvation in music"
writes Mick Brown, in The Guardian.
Many found their salvation in his music, his Wall Of Sound between them and the bad stuff, and today their sadness spans the music-loving world.
Having linked to a superior British music writer above, I will quote an American writer lifted from If Charlie Parker ... blog, on 'Music':
"And, of course, that is what all of this is - all of this: the one song,
ever changing, ever reincarnated,
that speaks somehow from and to and for
that which is ineffable within us and without us,
that is both prayer and deliverance, folly and wisdom,
that inspires us to dance or smile or simply to go on,
senselessly, incomprehensibly, beatifically, in the face of
mortality and the truth that our lives are more ill-writ, ill-rhymed and
fleeting than any song, except perhaps those songs - that song, endlesly reincarnated -
born of that truth, be it the moon and June of that truth, or the wordless blue moan,
or the rotgut or the elegant poetry of it.
That nameless black-hulled ship of Ulysses,
that long black train, that Terraplane, that mystery train,
that Rocket '88', that Buick 6 - same journey, same miracle, same end and endlessness."
-- Nick Tosches, 'Where Dead Voices Gather'
I'm nobody in Nowhere, tapping this out and weeping for The Music, but I know that simultaneously, really important writers are tapping out their Really Important view of The Man Who Built Walls Of Sound.
I hope one of them mentions that as well as creating the soundtrack of our life,
Mr Spector saved Tina Turner from Ike.
'the wordless blue moan' indeed.