R.I.P. Jimmy Buffett

Certainly not a TP artist, no matter how you look at him ... and back during his '70s heyday, I liked him about as much as I liked anyone on the radio whose music smacked of country or folk music.

But marrying a woman who'd grown up on the Florida coast all but required me to dig into his music a bit deeper. I found quite a few songs to appreciate, once I got past the overplayed hits. I saw two of his concerts -- one in the mid-'90s in Denver, the second about 20 years later in Seattle. Both were fun ... but I'd say the Rocky Mountain Parrotheads, almost to a man (and woman), were the most obnoxious drunks I've seen at any concert.

Well, rest in peace, Jimmy. I'm sure all your fans all over America are mixing pitcher after pitcher of margaritas, spending the holiday weekend singing your songs and raising toasts to you. If they're still badly hung over when they have to go to work on Tuesday ... well, frankly, they aren't true Parrotheads if they aren't.

Never thought of him for four decades until I went on a cruise for the first time a few years ago. There, he (or at least his music) was inescapable.

Not a fan. I had a roommate when I was younger who was obsessed, so I heard tons of his music that I otherwise wouldn't have. Hearing more of his music made me like it even less. And living my entire life in Florida means I probably heard his music accidentally more than most. I never wished death on him, though, so RIP and all that.

Wasn't much of a fan of his growing up, his brand of music was discordant to my 80's upbringing (on MTV and 80's radio), and the myriad of alternative genres that I explored in the 90's. But over the past few years I have begun to appreciate the genre that he created; perfect for chilling at one of the many beach bars down here. As long as you don't expect too much out of the music, it's pleasant enough.

RIP Jimmy; as I usually say when an artist passes away, thank you for the music.

While there are other artists who become identified with one particular song, can you think of another instance where a single song captured a whole mindset, ethos, that for years and years still resonates?

The Dead certainly had a similar situation, but it was not a single song that created the flowing skirts, skulls and dancing bears.

When I was in my early 20s, it was all (mentally) about aggressive music in sweaty clubs in gritty cities. Strength through discomfort?

Now I can totally envision embracing the pure hedonism that those marimbas promise. Give me the ocean.

Insane Clown Posse's "Magnets" and the Juggalos?

From about 1980 onward, Jimmy's concert setlists were built around about half a dozen songs that he simply had to include -- "Margaritaville," of course, but also "Cheeseburger in Paradise," "Fins," "Come Monday," "Why Don't We Get Drunk," and later, "It's Five O'clock Somewhere." I don't wish to revisit any of those songs, but as I said, digging deeper into his catalog turns up quite a few enjoyable songs -- songs I never would've appreciated in my teen years, when anything folksy or country-oriented made me lunge to change the station. When he steers away from the beachcomber/lifestyle-oriented songs -- the ones that made him such an institution -- he's actually a pretty good songwriter.

If you're halfway inclined, his box set Boats, Beaches, Bars and Ballads is a good one to browse through. Beyond that, you're on your own.

It'll be a bit of a challenge to pay tribute to Jimmy this Friday. He's not the kind of artist who fits into "Twenty Flight Rock."

About the only really negative thing I have to say, having to do with Jimmy Buffett, pertains to the one and only visit we paid to one of his Margaritaville restaurants. We were vacationing in Key West, and it seemed like a good idea at the time.

The place's ground floor was full and rowdy; it looked as if we'd have some trouble getting a table. Eventually, a waitress noticed us, and upon being asked for a table for two, took us upstairs ... where we were, no kidding, the only customers to be seen. She pointed out a visibly dirty table and told us, "Have a seat."Before she could dash off, we insisted she clean the table. She grabbed a damp rag, mopped down the table, and began to make her way hastily to the stairs.

Before she could escape, we hollered to her, "Could we have a couple of menus?" She turned toward us, with an undisguised sigh, and went toward the back of the room to grab a couple of menus. She literally tossed them onto our table and made a beeline for the stairs, without another word.

My wife and I didn't even think of taking a seat. We just looked at each other, kinda bewildered, and picked up the menus. I don't think anything on the menu registered with either one of us. After a few minutes, the waitress came back upstairs, took out her pad of paper without making eye contact with either of us, and asked, "What would ya like?"

We both instantly said, "We'd like to leave." And we did.

Buffett composed the excellent score for one of my favorite films, Frank Perry’s Rancho Deluxe. (The screenplay is by the great novelist Thomas McGuane—are there any Captain Berserko fans on this forum?) He also appears in the movie.

I love “Margaritaville," and have always fantasized that Bryan Ferry would one day put an Under the Volcano-type spin on this classic song.