Music suffered heavy losses in 2016, a year like no other in recent memory. We bid unexpected farewells to the very brightest stars — David Bowie and Prince — but we also lost masters from every corner of the music world, from classical composers and jazz greats to world music superstars, soul singers, country giants, prog-rock pioneers and record producers. They left us with unforgettable sounds and compelling stories. Hear their music and explore their legacies here.
(Credits: Tom Huizenga, producer; Mark Mobley, editor; Brittany Mayes, designer)
Prince
June 7, 1958 — April 21, 2016
We may never see another total talent like Prince again. He was the product of terrific genes, music education and a post-Beatles, post-Hendrix studio audacity. As a multi-instrumentalist, songwriter, singer, guitar shredder, producer, philanthropist and music business innovator, he knew few creative limits. And his transcendently erotic, genre-spanning music made us all believe freaks ran the universe.—Jason King
David Bowie
Jan. 8, 1947 — Jan. 10, 2016
David Bowie was an open channel through whom music changed in myriad ways. The patron saint of freaks and rebels, a champion of the marginalized, Bowie was a total artist who didn't dabble but triumph in fashion, theater and film. He challenged himself and us up to and through his final masterpiece, Blackstar.—Ann Powers
Pierre Boulez
March 26, 1925 — Jan. 5, 2016
Once an enfant terrible who suggested blowing up opera houses, the French composer created complex, fantastically colorful and surprisingly sensual music with new acoustic and electronic sounds. As a first-tier conductor and music director of the New York Philharmonic, he eventually embraced most of the canon, performing familiar works with analytical clarity.—Tom Huizenga
Maurice White
Dec. 19, 1941 — Feb. 4, 2016
Memphis-born musical visionary Maurice White did humanity a major favor by founding 1970s superstar act Earth, Wind & Fire — which brimmed with talent like bassist Verdine White, falsetto singer Philip Bailey and tenor White himself. Delivering exuberantly funky R&B joints like "Sing a Song" and "September," EWF redefined the soul band as the ultimate sensual rhythm machine.—Jason King
Leonard Cohen
Sept. 21, 1934 — Nov. 7, 2016
The most elegant poet and philosopher of the rock era was also one of its most sensual and funniest. If "Hallelujah" was his signature hymn, his hundreds of other songs teemed with as much divinity, grounded in erotic detail and a deep appreciation of human vulnerability. He also looked great in a suit.—Ann Powers
Juan Gabriel
Jan. 7, 1950 — Aug. 28, 2016
Mourned in his native Mexico as a national hero, he told stories that resonated with Latin music fans from the tip of South America to North America. He was iconic because of his legendary insistence on going his own way. —Felix Contreras
Merle Haggard
April 6, 1937 — April 6, 2016
The hardscrabble poetry of his songs spoke of plain truths and lessons learned, and was set to music both rowdy and reflective. His evocative storytelling left a long shadow across country music and picked up fans as disparate as Johnny Cash and The Grateful Dead.—Felix Contreras
Glenn Frey
Nov. 6, 1948 — Jan. 18, 2016
Mixing the pop smoothness with the rock grit, Frey co-wrote and sang many of The Eagles' biggest hits, including "Take It Easy," "Lyin' Eyes" and "Heartache Tonight." Between the band's initial 1980 breakup and its first reunion in 1994, Frey became a solo star — with hits such as "The Heat Is On" and "Smuggler's Blues" — and launched an acting career.—Stephen Thompson
Sharon Jones
May 4, 1956 — Nov. 18, 2016
A music business afterthought for much of her life, the funky and ingratiating Brooklyn soul singer broke out in the last 20 years to become one of the most electrifying performers in the business. With the aid of her band The Dap-Kings, Jones was an era-straddling thriller whose appeal crossed generations.—Stephen Thompson
Ralph Stanley
Feb. 25, 1927 — June 23, 2016
A high tenor, banjo player and titan of American mountain music, he and his brother Carter Stanley were bluegrass originators. Late in his career, he sang an unforgettable "O Death" in O Brother, Where Art Thou? While the lyrics asked that he be spared, the authority and quiet intensity of his voice demanded Death acquiesce for many years.—Mark Mobley
Esma Redžepova
Aug. 8, 1943 — Dec. 11, 2016
She was the voice of a people, the Roma (historically known as Gypsies). This Macedonian singer, educator and humanitarian was one of the first international stars to sing in the Romany language. She gained particular fame she didn't seek when a song of hers was licensed for the opening of Borat. But her legacy continues through hundreds of recordings and dozens of children she fostered.—Mark Mobley
Papa Wemba
June 14, 1949 — April 24, 2016
The Congolese superstar with the high, happy, easygoing voice was influential in mixing African and Western pop styles, and reached an international audience through the world music movement of the '80s and '90s. His dapper fashion gave rise to a wave of young men known as sapeurs — the Society of Atmosphere-setters and Elegant People.—Mark Mobley
Pulse nightclub shooting
June 12, 2016
Ghost Ship warehouse fire
Dec. 2, 2016
Dozens of people died this year in Orlando and Oakland doing one of the things they enjoyed most — dancing among family, friends and strangers. That they would die so young in places problems shouldn't matter made a difficult year even tougher. The music won't stop, but neither will the memories, vigilance and love.—Mark Mobley
Jane Little
Feb. 2, 1929 — May 15, 2016
For more than 71 years she played double bass in the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra, a span that included the visionary tenure of music director Robert Shaw. At 87 years old, during a concert, she collapsed while playing her instrument, which was a foot taller than she was. The song on her music stand? "There's No Business Like Show Business."—Mark Mobley
Mose Allison
Nov. 11, 1927 — Nov. 15, 2016
In an age when most pop moved away from jazz, Mose Allison had the ears of rock stars, including The Who, The Clash and Elvis Costello. Yet he never lost a jazz audience devoted to his quietly sophisticated playing, witty writing and charmingly glancing, bluesy singing.—Mark Mobley
Gato Barbieri
Nov. 28, 1932 — April 2, 2016
Hard to imagine going from avant-garde to Last Tango in Paris to smooth jazz in a single, eventful career, but he did it all with style and grace. Argentina's gift to the tenor sax made amazing records and championed Latin folk before it was cool. —Felix Contreras
Paul Bley
Nov. 10, 1932 — Jan. 3, 2016
Here's one measure of Paul Bley's talent: The supporting musicians on his debut recording were Charles Mingus and Art Blakey. Bley in turn helped launch the careers of Ornette Coleman and Pat Metheny. Bley could hear all the directions music could take, out into the realms of what came to be called "free jazz" — a '60s movement in which he was a central figure.—Tom Cole
Guy Clark
Nov. 6, 1941 — May 17, 2016
Lyle Lovett put it well at a Nashville memorial for this Texas troubadour: "Guy Clark was my friend before I ever met him." So many songwriters learned by listening to his pristine, humble, gruffly sung tunes. Echoing through three generations of country and Americana stars, Clark shaped the way they philosophize about the plain stuff of life.—Ann Powers
Tony Conrad
March 7, 1940 — April 9, 2016
Tony Conrad wasn't so much a violinist but a mediator between worlds. Whether jamming with Faust and the Theatre of Eternal Music in the '70s, or later with Jim O'Rourke and Genesis Breyer P-Orridge, he always understood the essential being of sound as one continuous note.—Lars Gotrich
Peter Maxwell Davies
Sept. 8, 1934 — March 14, 2016
Called the "harlequin of British music," the artistically restless composer was inspired by modernists like Pierre Boulez, ancient English choral traditions and eventually the austere landscape of his beloved Orkney Islands. He left a genre-spanning trove of works running from the expressionistic to the serene and even ceremonial, as in 2004 he became Master of the Queen's Music.—Tom Huizenga
Keith Emerson
Nov. 2, 1944 — ca. March 11, 2016
The first time I saw Keith Emerson, it was 1971, and he was standing on top of his Hammond L-100 thrusting daggers into the keys. He was a madman making a wild mix of classical and rock in Emerson, Lake & Palmer's wistful tales of prophets and "the fate of all Mankind."—Bob Boilen
Nikolaus Harnoncourt
Dec. 6, 1929 — March 5, 2016
Too many candy-coated Mozart performances in the 1950s forced the Austrian cellist to create and conduct his own orchestra — Concentus Musicus Wien. From that moment, Harnoncourt became a dominant force in the early music movement, championing Monteverdi and Bach. Eventually, with the world's great orchestras at his command, he presided over repertoire from Beethoven to Gershwin.—Tom Huizenga
Bobby Hutcherson
Jan. 27, 1941 — Aug. 15, 2016
Forget the fact that he had few peers on his instrument and instead consider his intense musicality and faultless swing. Then you have essentially crystallized his entire career, especially his impressive Blue Note output.—Felix Contreras
Paul Kantner
March 17, 1941 — Jan. 28, 2016
San Francisco music journalist Joel Selvin called Paul Kantner "the soul" of Jefferson Airplane, the "contrarian" who "kept everything off balance." Kantner co-founded the band and co-wrote songs including "Wooden Ships." There was a strong anti-authoritarian strain that ran through his music and his life. As Selvin put it, "He never bought the Mercedes and moved to the suburbs." Kantner stayed in the city whose sound he helped define.—Tom Cole
Greg Lake
Nov. 10, 1947 — Dec. 7, 2016
Guitar Svengali Robert Fripp got attention as mastermind of the first King Crimson, and keyboard Dumbledore Keith Emerson stole the show in Emerson, Lake and Palmer. But Greg Lake was the voice that went from quietly melodious to full-throated on "In the Court of the Crimson King." He wrote "Lucky Man," a standout on ELP's debut, at just 12 years old, and created the beautiful and enduring "I Believe in Father Christmas."—Tom Cole
Joe Ligon
Oct. 11, 1936 — Dec. 11, 2016
The Mighty Clouds of Joy were led by a voice of thunder. Joe Ligon was a stalwart of the hard gospel style who took some flak from the faithful for performing on Soul Train, but also managed to score a disco hit, delivering a message of salvation where it wasn't often heard.—Mark Mobley
Neville Marriner
April 15, 1924 — Oct. 2, 2016
The widely admired English conductor introduced Mozart to untold millions when he led the ensemble he founded, the Academy of St. Martin in the Fields, for the Oscar-winning movie Amadeus. Over five decades he made hundreds of sturdy recordings of repertoire from Vivaldi to Bartok, fronting orchestras in Los Angeles, Minneapolis and Stuttgart.—Tom Huizenga
George Martin
Jan. 3, 1926 — March 8, 2016
As producer and arranger and with The Beatles, George Martin changed what anyone thought was possible in rock music. "George Martin made us what we were in the studio," John Lennon said. "He helped us develop a language to talk to other musicians."—Bob Boilen
Scotty Moore
Dec. 27, 1931 — June 28, 2016
Scotty Moore wanted to be a jazz guitarist but became one of the most revered of all rock 'n' roll sidemen. He was working at Sun Studio in Memphis when owner Sam Phillips asked him to audition an unknown named Elvis. Moore's crisp fills and biting solos on "Hound Dog," "Jailhouse Rock" and "Heartbreak Hotel" have become parts of history.—Tom Cole
Marni Nixon
Feb. 22, 1930 — July 24, 2016
Eliza Doolittle in London, Anna in Siam, Maria on Manhattan's West Side — they had different famous faces onscreen but sang with the same voice. Marni Nixon had an unparalleled career as a Hollywood "ghost singer," but also left a distinguished legacy of stage and recording work, especially in contemporary classical music.—Mark Mobley
Russell Oberlin
Oct. 11, 1928 — Nov. 25, 2016
The pioneering countertenor was a leading force in the American early music movement of the 1950s and possessed a singularly identifiable voice. Rather than using falsetto to sing in the alto range, Oberlin's voice settled naturally high, affording him a full-bodied tone devoid of the hooty quality of many countertenors.—Tom Huizenga
Pauline Oliveros
May 30, 1932 — Nov. 24, 2016
Known for her aesthetic called "deep listening," Oliveros thought nothing of dropping into a vacant cistern with her accordion to record an album. The Texas-born composer embraced improvisation, music of American Indians and experimented early with electronics, deconstructing Puccini in Bye Bye Butterfly, which doubled as a bold statement on the lack of women composers.—Tom Huizenga
Phife Dawg
Nov. 20, 1970 — Mar. 22, 2016
Can't really imagine alt-hip hop group A Tribe Called Quest without Malik Taylor aka Phife Dawg aka Phife aka the Five Foot Assassin. Trini-blooded Phife delivered high tenor rhymes that acted as counterpoint to Q-Tip's sagacious flow. Unafraid to wax political, Phife also helped afford the Native Tongues pioneers an affable street cred. Never the flashiest MC, he remains a timeless icon of post 90s East Coast hip-hop.—Jason King
Prince Buster
May 24, 1938 — Sept. 8, 2016
Young boxer Cecil Bustamente Campbell became a pioneer of ska and rocksteady and one of the first Jamaican musicians to break worldwide. As famous as he was in the '60s thanks to songs like "Al Capone" and "Madness is Gladness," he had a second wave of fame in the '70s and '80s as groups like The Specials and Madness seized upon his music.—Mark Mobley
Einojuhani Rautavaara
Oct. 9, 1928 — July 27, 2016
The eclectic Finn, who said his brief stint in Manhattan taught him more than his teachers, was a musical experimenter. Blessed by his revered predecessor Jean Sibelius, Rautavaara dabbled in atonal techniques, neoclassical elegance, elements of American jazz — even recording birdcalls for his popular Cantus arcticus. His later mystic phase attracted a new contingent of admirers.—Tom Huizenga
Leon Russell
April 2, 1942 — Nov. 13, 2016
A musician's musician, the Rock and Roll Hall of Famer worked with the greats — Bob Dylan, The Beach Boys, Ray Charles, Frank Sinatra, George Harrison and countless others — in a career that spanned 60 years. Though Russell's biggest hits came in the early '70s, he enjoyed a major comeback in 2010 through a hit album with Elton John, whose own work he'd helped inspire.—Stephen Thompson
Amjad Sabri
Dec. 23, 1976 — June 22, 2016
At just 45, in the prime of his life and career, the clarion-voiced Sabri was gunned down while making his way to a TV performance during the Muslim holy month of Ramadan. The Pakistani Taliban claimed responsibility for killing this especially accomplished and promising member of a devout and revered musical family devoted to an ancient, honorable and tolerant tradition.—Mark Mobley
Jean Shepard
Nov. 21, 1933 — Sept. 25, 2016
There'd be no Kacey Musgraves — maybe even no Loretta Lynn — without Jean Shepard. A pioneer who sang of female independence starting in the 1950s, she was the first woman to reach a half century as a Grand Old Opry member and championed traditional country until the end of her long, inspiring life.—Ann Powers
Sam Spence
March 29, 1927 — Feb. 6, 2016
In 1966, the ascendant NFL took on a thrilling new sound, as Sam Spence began scoring NFL Films highlights with orchestral music fit for swinging spy films and spaghetti westerns. "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" and "Fly, Eagles Fly" sound quaint next to the modern onslaughts of "The Over the Hill Gang," "Wild Bunch" and "The Pony Soldiers."—Mark Mobley
Elizabeth Swados
Feb. 5, 1951 — Jan. 5, 2016
Coming to Broadway directly between West Side Story and Rent, Elizabeth Swados's Runaways had a similarly galvanizing run and even younger cast. After interviewing actual runaways, Swados wrote the music, lyrics, and book, choreographed and directed the celebrated show. She was also a novelist, children's book author, memoirist and inspiration to countless younger theater artists.—Mark Mobley
Rod Temperton
Oct. 9, 1949 — ca. Oct. 5, 2016
Pop's British Invasion remained an occupying force — even if you didn't know that "Thriller," "Rock With You," "Off the Wall," "Boogie Nights," "The Groove Line" and "Always and Forever" were written by one self-effacing Englishman who shunned celebrity while making peerless music.—Mark Mobley
Toots Thielemans
April 29, 1922 — Aug. 22, 2016
Toots Thielemans heard a Louis Armstrong record and went from studying mathematics in his native Belgium to playing jazz on the most unlikely instrument: the harmonica. And what's even more unlikely, given how hard he blew, is that he suffered from asthma all his life. He was a favorite sideman of Quincy Jones, who called him "my Uncle Bebop." Thielemans was also a good guitarist who developed a technique of whistling while he played.—Tom Cole
Rudy Van Gelder
Nov. 2, 1924 — Aug. 25, 2016
Rudy Van Gelder defined the sound of jazz, from the late '50s into the 21st century, as the man on the other side of the studio glass. He started recording his high school friends in his parents' living room and went on to steer more than 20,000 recordings by the likes of Sonny Rollins, John Coltrane, Thelonious Monk and Horace Silver. Van Gelder felt that each musician's contributions should be heard clearly — his gift to them and us.—Tom Cole
Nana Vasconcelos
Aug. 2, 1944 — March 9, 2016
Rhythm was just one of his gifts. Beautiful melodies would often come soaring from his voice, from his earliest days with the chill jazz label ECM to big stadiums with Pat Metheny.—Felix Contreras
Alan Vega
June 23, 1938 — July 16, 2016
There was a terrifying side to an Alan Vega performance but there was also a wink of humor. He was half of an electric minimalist punk duo called Suicide with partner Martin Rev. They made confrontational art in a band not well-loved but ultimately memorable and important.—Bob Boilen
Bernie Worrell
Apr. 14, 1944 — June 24, 2016
Hugely influential funk and rock keyboard player best known as the top and bottom of Parliament-Funkadelic. His lumbering, fuzzed-out bass lines and high, keening solos gave George Clinton's band galactic power and kicked Talking Heads into a higher gear. In a band or as a solo artist, he made synths sing and dance.—Mark Mobley
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