George Michael, celebrity deaths & the futility of the #RIP hashtag
Most days, you won’t find me tweeting about George Michael. Not because I’m immune to the infectious strains of ‘Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go’. Not because I didn’t dance to ‘Too Funky’ at many a blue light disco in my youth. Not because I didn’t think ‘Fastlove’ was a certified jam back in my R&B-obsessed mid-90s heyday. But because, truth be told, most days he doesn’t really cross my mind.
But today was different. Today, I was taking a casual stroll through my Twitter feed and noticed an abundance of tweets citing the musical greatness of the artist formerly known as Georgios Panayiotou. Strange, I thought, given he hasn’t really been on the public radar for at least a good half-decade. I’m an experienced enough Twitter user to know that this kind of out-of-the-blue praise can only mean one thing: the subject of adoration is most likely dead, or rumoured to be so.
In one sense, this sort of practice is something to be celebrated, and certainly not out of line with normal human behaviour. Think about funerals. Often, they provide us, the living, with a forum to “tell” the deceased everything we didn’t (or wouldn’t, or couldn’t) in their lifetime. Earlier this year, I attended a funeral for one of my best friends from high school. In the 15-plus years since we’d graduated, we’d had virtually no contact. I’d been busy with my life, and presumably he’d been busy with his. But, after hearing the news of his way-too-early death via a Facebook post, I was very quickly putting on my Sunday best, buying expensive flowers and stepping into church with a heart full of regret and a head full of nostalgia for the good times we’d shared together. As his brother read the eulogy, full of praise for this young man who’d been cut down in the prime of his life, I couldn’t help but ponder the irony of the whole situation: why do we save our deepest reverence and admiration for a person until after they’re dead? Why not tell them how we feel while they’re still around to hear it?
In 2016 (aka The Year The Celebrities Died), two of my musical heroes — Prince Rogers Nelson and Malik “Phife Dawg” Taylor, of A Tribe Called Quest — passed away. Prince may have been the greatest all-round musician of our time (I’m biased, obviously), and the diluvial outpouring of grief by fans and casual bystanders alike on Twitter matched the massive impact he’d had on so many people during his lifetime. Similarly, Phife’s death (although less widely commemorated) trended well into the night on Twitter, with aggrieved fans tweeting tributes, favourite lyrics and nostalgic reminiscences with the same verve with which they’d praised his many classic albums while he was still alive.
But what about those who don’t get the props while they’re still breathing? Particularly those who really need to hear it? Such was the case with Sean Price, an undeniably talented but fantastically underrated MC from Brooklyn, who passed to the other side in August 2015. During his 43 years on planet Earth, Price whiled away with his craft, releasing album after album on independent record labels to little popular fanfare; no big artist co-signs, no award show thank yous, no real hits to speak of. Yet, when news of his death hit, a plethora of hip-hop stars (some of the biggest names in the world) came out to tweet their condolences, their heretofore unseen fan worship, and their remembrance of him as one of the best to ever do it. That’s phenomenal, and I believe it all came from a good place. But I’m sure Sean and his family, who never moved out of the ‘hood, could’ve used that leg-up while he was still around to benefit from it.
Meanwhile, I’ve seen a handful of tweets over the weekend that Carrie Fisher (the once and current Princess Leia) is spending Christmas in intensive care after suffering an apparent heart attack. As an avid Star Wars fan boy, I grew up on Carrie and I send her my very best wishes and prayers. But I haven’t yet been moved to tweet about it… and neither have too many other people, at least not the number who will undoubtedly tweet #RIPCarrieFisher when Ms Fisher eventually (but hopefully not for many years) does leave this world for good.
So I wonder: is there any point to the #RIP hashtag? Is it too little, too late for our favourite celebrities (or, gasp, friends and relatives) to send them 140 characters of love after they’ve already breathed their last breath? Shouldn’t we let them hear how much we care about them, how much that song meant to us during a difficult time in our lives, how much we idolised them as a kid, WHILE they’re still existent enough to enjoy it?
Maybe we need a new hashtag culture. Something positive in nature, like Throwback Thursday or Follow Friday (#TBT and #FF for the uninitiated), that allows us to shamelessly celebrate another human being’s life, spirit, artistic output, athletic ability or generosity while they’re still upright and pulsating. #StillAliveSaturday? #TellEmTuesday? #PreDeathEulogy for any day of the week? I’d be in on that.
Until then: #RIPGeorgeMichael. Yes, your untimely passing has given all of us a 24-hour window to shamelessly, publicly praise some of our most closeted musical guilty pleasures. But I’m sorry for my lack of acknowledgement while you were still here.
