While I am saddened to hear of the death of Davy Jones (sixty-five, heart attack) I'm stunned by how quickly the news reached #1 on the BBC's news feed.
In juxtaposition with Houston's death, Jones' life raises the long-standing problem of "what do you do when you reach fame by being a fresh faced kid and then grow up?" to which there are no easy answers. For every Natalie Wood there's a Matthew Waterhouse. Mickey Dolenz has successfully reinvented himself as an "adult" in entertainment, and I confess that I admire Wil Wheaton's evolution into maturity.
Jones seems to me to have floundered a bit here and there and managed to come out singing, but I'm sure the news feeds will tell us more all too soon.
Anyway, enjoy Davy's singing on Scooby-Doo.