I just watched this movie again. Not this dubbed crap, original Japanese for me (when I can get it). My copy is beautifully letterboxed too, no anamorphic shenanigans. Nice DVD . . . nice movie.
With a good soundtrack, unusual for Toho having gone with a foreign composer for a change.
Keith Emerson, memorable for tons of stuff going way back; most famous, perhaps, for Emerson, Lake and Palmer.
He never stopped working his ass off, right up till the end. At his own hand, sad story, gun shot to the head. It seems that he was one of the depressed, like myself and Robin Williams, and so many others, Carrie Fisher.
It was just last March, the 11th, in the now infamous 2016, infamous for seeing the deaths of so many of our big stars. It seems that he still had a lot of concerts lined up, but some kind of nerve damage was interfering with his playing. He didn't want to disappoint his fans! That's how depressed people think. Me being dead will be better for my fans somehow than me not playing up to my high standard.
Poor baby. His fans seemed a stalwart bunch. I'm sure that they'd have stayed with him whatever happened. They'd probably have supported him in times of trouble, thanking him for the good times all the way.
That's depression for you. Everyday is hard, and one day you just realize, I can't do this again tomorrow, not even once more. I hope that my turn never comes, I mean, not all depressed people kill themselves. It wouldn't surprise me, though. Not a bit. Better men than me have taken that road, and who's to say that they weren't right.
We'll see how it plays. And fare well, Keith Emerson. You had a good run. Seventy-one years; made a good living; gave people happiness. That's a good record of achievement. RIP.
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