Forgive this patently SHitey, long eulogy, but this is literally the only place on the internet outside of SHF where anyone even knows who David Roback was.
I was a huge fan. I knew absolutely nothing about the man (how could I? He refused to do interviews, and the in the half dozen or so that he did do, he was aloof and not communicative). However, The Rain Parade really meant something to me.
In 1982, I was a late-teen immersed in late-60's rock. Jefferson Airplane was my favorite band. I loved the Dead, and Quicksilver, and Santana, and the other psychedoolic bands. I liked the English psych-progressives like Pink Floyd and Caravan. But that whole world was dead dead dead in 1982. I was painfully aware of this, and my weird music tastes really didn't fit in with those of my high school peers (which tended toward contemporary metal, punk, or new wave)
I saw
Emergency Third Rail Power Trip in the store and bought it on the strength of the cover. I knew it would be special the moment I brought it home. It was love at first listen. Finally, someone in
my era was making psychedelic rock. It was
okay to like psychedelic music; other people close to my age were into it. I honestly thought I was the only one left on the planet.
I got into all the paisley underground bands; The Dream Syndicate (who made the best albums; their debut shared Kendra Smith with Roback's second band Opal), Green on Red (made better albums than contemporaneous Neil Young), The Three O'Clock (reminded me of Eric Burdon and the Animals (late 60's version) if Burdon had sung like a wimp), The Bangles (I still love their debut EP, and their first album is pleasant 80's psych-pop), etc. But The Rain Parade were my favorite. David left after the first album, but did supply a guest spot on the best song on their followup EP)
By 1987, the paisley underground bands were gone. I was still something of an acid-head and mourned their passing. I think I read a review of
Happy Nightmare Baby by Opal in Spin, and saw Roback and Smith's names mentioned, and rushed to buy it. Whoa, mama, this was the stuff. Unabashed psychedelia run amok, with bewitching vocals, a dark edge, and a mysterious aura.
But then they were gone too.
I spent almost the entire 1990's in Japan, and it was there that I read (in Spin again!) a review of
So Tonight That I Might See, and saw Roback was in Mazzy Star. I played that CD to death; I still consider it one of the most perfect albums in my collection. As they say at Hoofer's, I am "catalogue" with Mazzy Star's output. Hope Sandoval was the perfect voice for Roback's guitar textures; the albums were moody, atmospheric, and beautiful. I was legitimately happy for him when he scored a borderline top-40 with the elegiac "Fade Into You"; it was like the most unlikely hit ever.
After 1996, virtually nothing was heard from him again until Mazzy Star's fourth album was released in 2013 (sounding as if it were still 1996, although some of the tracks were probably recorded over a period of years). I found reassurance when it appeared; how much the world has changed, but Mazzy Star is still here, sounding like Mazzy Star always did.
I can't say I am feeling sad about Roback's death, since he was so invisible as a person I have no feelings about the man one way or another. But I do feel sad that time relentlessly marches forward and beautiful things die. It is nature's plan, and I am good with it. But it still is sad.
Roback's name has always been among the heavyweights in my rock pantheon. And he meant a lot to me at just the right time throughout my life... Whoever he was, I owe him gratitude.