OK, maybe "cherished" isn't quite the word to describe my long-held belief that Rory Storm was found with his head in the oven, his dear deceased (and complicit) Mum just a few feet away; but death-rock legends are legion, and the circumstances so often so lurid -- backstage Russian Roulette, plane crashes, murder-by-fan, on-stage electrocution, getting hit by a bus, on-stage murder-by-fan, infanticide, mariticide, murder-by-fan-club-president, Joe Meek -- that to learn he merely accidentally O.D.'d on sleeping pills (and Mum not so accidentally, despondent over finding him in such a state) is, by the standards of The Death Rock Tribune, a disappointment of some stature - so yeah, I cherished that story. I guess I'll just have to take comfort in the fact that Chicago guitarist Terry Kath really did say to his wife "don't worry honey, it's not loaded -- seeee??" The Internet has yet to shoot that one down, you'll pardon the pun.
In case you're wondering where I got this bad (and kinda sick) information, it was that blowhard Dave Marsh and some guy named Kevin Stein, and their 1981 Book of Rock Lists. Ahhh, times were different then. No wikipedia, you could just lie your face off and no one would challenge you until it was too late to make a difference. Yes, exactly like Mikey, pop rocks and soda. "Print the legend, not the fact", they said. But that's another post...
(In case you're wondering who Rory Storm was, he was a prominent figure in the Beatles' pre-history -- his Hurricanes were the ones from whom The Fabs stole Ringo.)
To end this thing on a positive note, there's a new Rory Storm on the block - this one comes from the land to the right of the land down under, and he's got a myspace page and makes very fine and broken acoustic music not too far removed from the scattered psych folk of his countryman Alastair Galbraith. Look for a great album out now called "The Sun Always Comes Up On Robot Morning".