Not long ago, John Pearce, a host at this station and a friend, forwarded me an essay written by a cousin of his. Her name is Maddie Ballard. The essay was about several things but mostly about what a certain song means to her; in this case, 'Tell Him' by Lauren Hill. Ms. Ballard writes, "I fell hard open into the sun-warmed soundscape of it. The no-hurry drum loop, the holy backup vocals, the dappling acoustic guitar that enters so quietly, it seems to have always been there."
I thought about those words as 2025 prepares to pass into 2026, bringing with it new hopes and those inevitable in memoriam remembrances of those who died in the passing calendar year. And on these look-backs, I remember most the musicians and songwriters who died. Why? Because their passing takes with them all that their songs do. Songs that link you to an event, a person, a moment, a snippet of time that you can keep on reliving.
Now, make no mistake — there were many to remember outside of the music world. Robert Redford, Diane Keaton, Rob Reiner, Gene Hackman, Jane Goodall, Pope Francis. But as I said, I remember most the musical voices that we no longer have.
And not necessarily the biggest names. Steve Cropper played guitar on many of the Memphis Sound albums. He co-wrote 'Dock of the Bay' with Otis Redding, he was the big guy in the front of the band of The Blues Brothers, the main guitarist in Booker T. and the M.G.'s, who did the unforgettable instrumental 'Green Onions,' and the man behind the guitar licks on Sam and Dave's 'Soul Man.' Sam Moore, by the way — the Sam in Sam and Dave — died in 2025, too.
Jill Sobule was another big loss. Little known aside from her hit 'I Kissed a Girl,' Sobule was one of those touring musicians who never sought fame and money. The last place I saw her play was in a driveway in Princeton, New Jersey, before a few dozen people. Friends of mine had invited her as part of a benefit. She probably made about $300, but she threw her heart into it, and the people who heard her will never forget it.
Another one of my favorites, Raul Malo, died in 2025, also out of that troubadour tradition. My wife and I have seen him at large venues with his band The Mavericks, but also by himself at Godfrey Daniels, and most recently in February of 2023 at the Musikfest Cafe.
The list goes on; Sly Stone, Jimmy Cliff, who wrote 'Many Rivers to Cross' and 'The Harder They Fall,' Jesse Colin Young from the Youngbloods, Roberta Flack who wanted to be a classic musician but "settled" for performing standards they'll be singing in a hundred years from now.
But the 2025 musician death that sticks with me the most was Mark Volman of the Turtles. My brother-in-law, Donnie Kisselbach, an Easton native, was the bass player for the Turtles in their later touring days. I met Mark a few times and he was the same in person as he was on stage: goofy, fun-loving character with wild hair who played the tambourine. Mark was actually a great singer, particularly of harmonies, and he was the main force who kept the Turtles together. Donnie always admired the career he had after his touring days were over also. He earned a Master's Degree and taught for many years at Belmont College in Nashville.
Mark was chosen to be the graduation speaker at Loyola Marymount and led the audience in an impromptu version of the Turtles' biggest song. It speaks to that feeling that John Pearce's cousin was feeling that all of us feel from time to time when we hear our favorite musicians. They make us happy together.
