What the hell happened here?

We’re used to our classic rock heroes dropping. Credit David Bowie, Glenn Frey and Prince. We were just minding our own business, as were they, and they bit the dust. The Big C got Bowie. Rheumatoid arthritis drugs got Frey. As for Prince… Do we really know who anybody is and what they’re up to? A drug addict? Fentanyl? Seems like we only know ourselves.

But we think we know theses musicians.

You’ve got to understand, the Allman Brothers Band broke when it was only about the music. Sure, Gregg Allman was a dreamboat, but he was not a scene-stealer. And Duane and Dickie seemed to be channeling a higher power and the whole thing was driven forward by Berry, Jaimoe and Butch.

And if you went to a recent Brothers show, and you were privileged to be an insider, you got to sit on stage, right next to that twin drumming powerhouse. And it seemed that Jaimoe was doing his best to keep up, but Butch? He was the engine that kept pushing, and now he’s gone.

To the point when he passed and it wasn’t big news. This is how far we’ve come, we expect our heroes to die. But at 69? Cross the threshold into your sixties and you realize that 69 is just not that old. So many of the surviving classic rock musicians, especially the English ones, are in their seventies, many still touring. Once you get into your eighties you’re starting to hear the Grim Reaper knocking on your door, but statistically the longer you live the longer you live and now it’s de rigueur to be alive in your nineties, and quite functional to boot. So 69?

I don’t know how the Allmans survived the death of Duane. Maybe they didn’t know what better to do. Look at all the marriages that end with the death of a child, it’s hard to pick up and keep on keepin’ on. And then they lost Berry and eventually the band imploded, Gregg went on his merry way.

But then they reunited. That’s what we’ve learned along the way. Everybody needs the money. Few can succeed without their brethren. Of course there are exceptions, Eric Clapton, Sting and Phil Collins, but all of them have gotten back together with their bands, the lure of the money is just too great.

But the Allmans said they were done for real. And it’s been looking this way. Derek and Susan are invested in their band and Warren always had his own career and Gregg never needed anybody else on the marquee, after all it’s his last name that everybody knows, but what about Butch?

This is not the delta bluesmen, ripped-off from day one, doing menial labor until they were rediscovered by the college kids and got a victory lap.

This is not today’s heroes, the techies with financial advisors who are not only protected, but have enough assets to provide for their children’s children’s children.

No, this is musicians.

If you can find a financially savvy musician, he’s a bad player. Of course there are exceptions, but not many. You see to create this music you have to have a different viewpoint, live in an alternative universe, that’s why classic rock dominated and still gets played, the lunatics took over the asylum, the execs threw their hands in the air and just let the players rule, unlike today, when the business people have a heavy hand in what’s released.

Then again, there’s so much money at risk. Didn’t used to be this way. Today the barrier to entry is nonexistent, it’s just that if you do it yourself you can’t get noticed. Whereas before, you saw the Beatles on television, you picked up your instrument, you played at school, at parties, at bar mitzvahs, at bars, the bands went through various permutations, you found someone who could write, another who could sing, and if you were lucky you got noticed.

But it was a long hard road getting there. Not like today, where fourteen year olds believe they’re deserving of recognition. By time you were signed, you’d lost your virginity backstage had done drugs without names and had sipped enough alcohol to pickle a farm animal. You were experienced. In a way those at home were not. To the point when we saw you on stage…

We looked up to you, you were our heroes.

They’re still our heroes. We were stoned in the basement, staring at the album cover, we paid three, four and five dollars to go to the gig, we were in it together, Butch Trucks was FAMOUS! How could he get so low?

Now I’m neither a psychiatrist nor privy to all the facts of Butch’s life. But all the news reports said he had financial troubles. And the truth is, if we fans knew this, we’d have given him all our money and come to his house and cooked him dinner, that’s how much he meant to us. But it was a different time, today “artists” beg, yesterday they were too proud, they earned their money.

And Butch put together an act that played occasionally, but he was support, it’s hard to continue when you’re not the singer.

So, you’re famous and broke with no income on the horizon and you get depressed and…

Nobody cares about you, certainly not the label, that ripped you off from day one to begin with.

And if you even own any publishing, you could wait forever for the money.

And there are no signing shows like for baseball, because unlike sportsmen, we think you’re still valid, you can still play.

And then you’re gone.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. If the drugs didn’t get you, if you survived the madness, you were supposed to live to a ripe old age, to the point where we shrugged and said it was time to die, you’d lived a good life.

But then John Lennon was cut down and George Harrison succumbed to cancer and now there are only two Beatles left and at some point in the future there will be none.

And let’s be clear, the Beatles made beaucoup bucks, and the Allman Brothers did too, but they thought the road would go on forever, and when it doesn’t, it’s positively shocking.

Meanwhile, the show goes on without you. You sit at home and watch the nitwits duetting on the Grammys and all you’re left with is your dignity. You did nothing wrong, your only flaw was to outlive your paying audience. That’s another thing, you don’t want to see these players disappear, but you don’t want to go anymore and then you can’t go anymore and there’s this giant hole inside you… Come on, don’t you want one more chance to see Leon Russell?

So the thing about Butch Trucks is he was a serious man, who played like his job was the most important on earth. He was not a show-off, but a supporting cast member, but without a foundation you’ve got no band. Bands are tenuous things, and the rhythm section is key, just ask Mick about Charlie.

And now, we’re going through our lives merrily, albeit obsessed with the shenanigans in Washington, D.C., and our heroes keep dropping like flies. To the point where it’s no big deal anymore.

But it is a big deal.

I wish we could provide a safety net for the heroes of yore.

I wish they knew how much we loved them.

I wish Butch Trucks didn’t get to such a dark place where he took his own life.