CAN’T BUY A THRILL
I’m really not sure why I feel the loss of Walter Becker so acutely. Yes, I am a Steely Dan fan, yes, I loved their tunes, yes, I loved their lyrics, yes, I loved their mysterious, and unusual rock and roll personas, but death has a way of hollowing out the log. I don’t think any of us who were born between 1946 and 1950 thought we would make it this long. We would surf or die, OD, get lead poisoned in some far away country, get sick, die trying, or just fade away.
I will miss Walter. Life on this canoe won’t be the same with out his confusing way of looking at this fucked up life and time we never thought we’d have to live through. I’ve been reeling in the years, I’ve been doing it again, I’ve been doing the dirty work, I’ve been a king and a midnight cruiser. There’s fire in the hole, but Brooklyn owes the charmer under me. I guess it’s time to change the guard and turn that heartbeat over again, if we only could. But I know in my heart that only a fool would say that, and after all that, I still can’t buy a goddamn thrill. RIP Walter.