Gone but not forgotten

4 May 2016

(Reprinted from The Edge – Options pullout, 2 May 2016 issue)

Dear Kam,
Is it my imagination or are all the trees in Kuala Lumpur being cut down?
Lumber Jack

I don’t think you are imagining things. I get the feeling that trees are being cut down everywhere I go around KL, and many times I just can’t see why. Back in the 1990s, there were many beautiful old raintrees dotted around KL but they’ve all long since gone to make way for new roads or housing. This was inevitable, but it seems like new trees were not subsequently planted after the work was completed.

There are so many empty spots where there could be a tree. And if new trees are planted, they are never allowed to mature into majestic canopies but are constantly snipped and pruned till they end up looking anorexic.

Perhaps trees are not planted or allowed to mature because people are afraid of trees. It’s as if there is a superstition that tree roots will tear up the roads and branches will fall and kill people. But you only have to go to Singapore to see that trees can grow without undermining the foundations of a city. The recent heatwave has highlighted the need for tree cover but instead, they are cut down or cut back. I guess it’s for, you know, the usual reasons.

Dear Kam,
Prince has died. His music was once really amazing, and then it wasn’t. How come?
New Power Generation

So many stars have died in 2016 that the year is being called Starmageddon. This year has claimed two of the greatest stars: David Bowie and now Prince. It never crossed my mind that Prince could die. I mean, he’s Prince. He was not supposed to grow old, let alone die. But now he’s gone. He leaves behind a magnificent back catalogue and an artistic riddle. How and why did an artist who was clearly so enormously and uniquely talented, who could create works of unmatched excitement and catchiness, drift into being, well, not so good anymore? Prince remained until the very end the most lucrative live performer in America but his many new releases went largely unnoticed. Many people have wondered, what happened?

I was a huge Prince fan back in the 1980s. I consumed everything he did. I waited impatiently for the next album and then listened to it again and again. And then somewhere in the early 1990s I started to lose interest. To my ears, his albums became steadily more ponderous and less catchy. They weren’t bad and his musicianship remained as extraordinary as ever but they lacked excitement. I now think I might know why. He was too big a star and he was too talented.

Prince was famous for two things: being reclusive and being a multi-instrumentalist. He could and did play every instrument on his albums, especially his later albums, all of which he produced in his fortress home, Paisley Park. In the earlier days, Prince was the dominant creative force, but tracks like Purple Rain were based on his musical ideas that were then fleshed out by his band members, each of whom would happily lend their own individual artistry. Purple Rain was also designed to be a mighty pop anthem to slay all Prince’s competition and conquer Middle America, as Michael Jackson had done. Prince was at once collaborative and competitive. As his keyboardist Lisa Coleman said, “It was Prince against the world.”

In later years, he had conquered the world and changed his band, losing musicians who had come of age with Prince. He now played every instrument on the album because he could — he was that good — but to my ear there was a downside. There was too much Prince. Musically, it was Prince talking to Prince. Somebody who had dedicated their life to only playing the bass guitar could have lent something fresh and unusual, but which eager and hopeful bass player would dare tell Prince how the music should sound?

I still love Prince and listening to his music since his death has made me a star-struck fan all over again. But I think there’s a lesson to be learnt, not just in music but in all endeavours. Good things come from collaboration, perhaps with a dominant creative force, but definitely by encouraging the skills and creativity of others.

Samantha Schubert

I have been left reeling by the sudden deaths of David Bowie and now Prince but I never knew these people personally. True sorrow comes when an all too early passing happens much, much closer to home. Samantha Schubert passed away recently at the tragically early age of 47. She was an ex-Miss Malaysia, model and actress whose greatest roles came as a mother and a daughter. Although we weren’t close, she was quite simply one of the loveliest human beings I have ever met. Samantha will be greatly missed by her many friends, her three children and by her remarkable mother.

Reprinted with the kind permission of