Singer Joe Cocker died early today of lung cancer, in Crawford, Colorado, where he had lived for 20 years with his wife Pam. Born May 20, 1944, with the Sun at 28+° Taurus, his final day, December 22, 2014, was also the final day that Saturn, at 29+° Scorpio, pulled up the depths of personal and collective feeling and showed it to us, raw and hurting.
Tomorrow Saturn ingresses Sagittarius. That Joe Cocker, who as a male singer, served as an archetype for the uninhibited expression of feeling, would die on Saturn’s final day in Scorpio is a fitting tribute to this beautiful person, whose Taurus body shook loose the constricted patriarchal Saturnine forms of his generation.
An interesting title U.S.A Today gave to this piece. It reminds me that yes, we are veterans, “of the ’60s,” wounded warriors of the most iconic period in the collective memory of all still alive who share the memory — and even some who don’t. Even now, our music is still the drug of choice for a large segment of today’s young people.
Here’s to you, Joe, whose deeply soulful, expressive (yes, spastic!) presence served as a model for me and countless others. Whenever I’d feel myself constricted by the rigid forms of yesteryear, I’d put his album, With a Little Help from My Friends, on the turntable and dance, in the living room, alone, by candlelight.
Joe, at Woodstock:
Here he is in later years, careworn, his gestures muted, his voice, if possible, even more soul-filled.