Brad Delp and Lost Souls

Brad Delp would have turned 56 years old today. Brad Delp SHOULD have turned 56 years old today, had the hugely talented singer from the rock band Boston not passed away on March 9 of this year. I was among the millions of fans who were deeply saddened to hear of his death, and later shocked and bewildered to learn that he had died of his own hand at his home in New Hampshire.

Brad Delp, as well as Boston founder and guitarist Tom Scholz, were both vegetarians and animal rights advocates who went so far as to include activist messages on their album liner notes and, in the most recent Boston album, "Corporate America," include a reference to veal crates in their title track bemoaning our often materialistic and hard-hearted nation.

Brad was famous for not being typically famous; despite his amazing voice and great success, he was often referred to as "the nicest guy in rock and roll," a guy who spent countless hours talking with fans and performing at charity benefits with his side project, a tribute band called BeetleJuice. His ego was a no-show, and earlier this year it was reported that he was about to remarry and embark on another summer tour with Boston. He seemed to both appreciate and embrace life.

In 1988, I had the great pleasure of meeting Brad backstage after a Boston concert in Washington, DC. They were PETA supporters and I worked there at the time, and when they graciously donated some free tickets to the office, I jumped at the chance to go. They had always been a favorite band of mine — those guitars, that voice! — and I recall a most un-groupie-like moment when Brad showed me pictures of his kids and talked about living in southern New Hampshire, where I've spent part of every summer of my life. He was a vegetarian rock singer who loved the Beatles: in many ways, the perfect man in my book! I still have the backstage pass and autographed ticket stub.

In one of his suicide notes, Brad wrote that he was "a lonely soul" who had lost the will to live. It seemed so at odds with his gentle disposition, his zest for performing, and his desire to help save animal lives and souls. Perhaps, in the end, the world simply let him down and he decided his soul was better off elsewhere. I wish he could have been convinced otherwise.

So on behalf of the animals he kindly tried to help and in honor of the music he made, I offer my heartfelt thanks to him and hope that somehow, somewhere, he knows how much he was loved and appreciated and is lonely no more.

"They say it's your birthday/Happy Birthday to you..."