We lost one of the good ones last Sunday. Michael
Troy lost his long, courageous battle against cancer. He was a
brilliant songwriter, a kind and gentle man, and I am proud to have
called him friend for some three decades. He was a true working class
folksinger. More Guthrie than Dylan. He worked hard all his life. He had
been a commercial fisherman and a mill hand.
The thing about Michael’s songs it that you
believe every word of them, every line of every song. That's because
Michael has seen it, done it, and been it. His songs are about real
people who have real lives. People who work and love and triumph over
the everyday obstacles that we all face, and sometimes fail. He writes
of the people that populate the seacoast of his native Massachusetts but
are they that different from the people that you know? And as soon as
you've heard the songs don't you feel like you've known them all your
life?
Michael was a rare observer who could condense a
story into a few simple verses. He was a rare writer who creates poetry
that sounds like speech. It seems to be just the way people talk, only
better. Michael was also a rare composer who writes melodies that sound
like the people whose stories they carry.
In ancient days Michael might have been called a
bard, but rather than telling tales of epic battles he chooses to tell
the stories of people whose battles are smaller but, in their own way,
just as epic. As you listen to Michael's songs you come to know these
folks and you come to like them. As you listen to his songs you'll also
come to know Michael, you'll like him too, and believe him, every line
of every song.
