At last, clarity and closure is in sight for everyone who was dragged into the Soft Rock Mortality Debate of Ought-Eight. For those of you who missed the angsty spectacle, I was absolutely sure and prepared to swear on a stack of Bread albums that Kenny Loggins died in 2007. It turns out I arrived at this burning erroneous conviction by not paying strict attention during one of those Grammy award show in memoriam montages.
The soft-rock icon I had in mind is Dan Fogelberg, who died of prostate cancer in December 2007. He must have been the one who was Grammorialized. Distracted by the crunch of potato chips during the Grammys, I half-heard "Fogelberg," which was immediately misfiled in my memory banks as "Loggins"---an amateurish but understandable conflation, I think---by the brain's equivalent of a nebbish, disgruntled, cardigan-wearing file clerk overflowing with bitter resentment at being forced to plod daily through endless, fluorescent-lit mental pathways choked with cognitive clutter in futile hope of finding an archivally accurate home for useless pieces of information that will never ever need to be retrieved. Armed with this dangerous misinformation, I proceeded to spread it around with solemn certainty, which must have put poor Kenny into the danger zone. He was probably struggling to keep his head above ground the whole time. Whatever personal struggles with mortality he may have faced, his career seems to be resuscitating nicely with the release of a new album in 2007. What a relief.
My sincere apologies to everyone involved.
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