Farrah Fawcett vs. The Fox

November 24th, 1991. A death. A death that was mourned by millions, the world over. The death of a hero, to many of us. Someone who was iconic, who came from virtually nothing to conquer the world. Someone who was truly of the era.

And no, I'm NOT talking about the death of Freddie fucking Mercury!

Not that that wasn't bad…a man taken too young, who had so much more to give, and to live. But…that wasn't the death that had me in tears that day. Nope. I mourned for Eric Carr.

Obvious pun notwithstanding, Eric had some VERY big shoes to fill when he took the place of original Kiss drummer Peter Criss. Rather than recycle Peter's makeup (as Kiss has done in recent years), they opted during the early 1980s to create new "characters" to be in the band. Hence: The Fox.

Eric was a tremendous drummer. While I credit Peter with "teaching" me how to play, I listen to '80s-era Kiss and realize that much of my drumming style is also right in line with how Eric played. Heavy. Thunderous, even. It was such a shock to even hear him: while Peter was a one-bass-drum kind of man, Eric pulled Kiss into the '80s with a double-bass setup and enough toms to make even Nick Andopolis green with envy. While the era of Kiss that he played in was at times their worst, it wasn't any fault of his; they (meaning, Gene and Paul) were searching for a post-makeup identity, a look and sound that still said "Kiss," but also fit the era. They succeeded, if only by washing out their originality and joining a faceless parade of hairy headbangers.

I never met Eric, but according to most anecdotal accounts I read he was a gentle, giving soul. Who, oddly, always worried about going bald! As if. Anyway, his role in the band was more akin to "hired gun," and while he never publicly complained of his treatment, I assume it must have rankled to join what was, at the time, still one of the biggest bands in the world, and then basically be told "Sit there, drum, and shut your fuckin' mouth." If only Gene-&-Paul had put Eric's writing and singing talents to good use, the 7 albums that featured him might have a little more oomph. Alas. R.I.P., Eric. I remember you fondly.

June 25, 2009. A death. A death that was mourned by millions, the world over. The death of a hero, to many of us. Someone who was iconic, who came from virtually nothing to conquer the world. Someone who was truly of the era.

And no, I'm NOT talking about the death of Michael fucking Jackson!

Not that that wasn't bad…a man taken too young, who had so much more to give, and to live. But…that isn't the death that has me in tears today. Nope. I mourn for Farrah Fawcett.

Ahhh, that hair, right? The mid-'70s, right there. Just wash with a little Lemon Up, pull that swirly comb outta your back pocket, and feather away. Shaun Cassidy, eat yer heart out.

Farrah was perhaps too much "of" her time. The hair that defined an era, the smile that melted many a dude's heart, the All-American wholesomeness of a fantasy girl-next-door. Even if that girl came into your home every week, courtesy of ABC.

I was stunned to read on IMDb that Farrah was only an Angel for the first full season. No disrespect to Kate or Jaclyn, but man, Jill Munroe was IT for me on the show. Seems like she was in every episode…but, not so.

Despite nearly constant TV work (with some minor films splashed here and there) since that time, Farrah was for all intents done in by her '70s heyday. Even the NPR dude talked about that today: that, despite 3 Emmy nominations, Farrah the actress - perhaps even Farrah the person - always had to compete with Farrah the icon. Alas. R.I.P., Farrah. I remember you fondly.