These Classic Rock Stars Picked Their Own Funeral Songs — What The Choices Reveal About Them

If you choose your own funeral song, it's really your last quarter in the jukebox, your last chance to set the mood. And if you're a rock god, well, it's an even greater responsibility; in some ways, it's the capstone of your career. If you were lucky, you shaped the musical tastes of a country, maybe even a planet, and now you have one last word of your own before the think pieces about your legacy come rolling off the printer. As you might imagine, some of these songs are surprisingly illustrative of the deceased-to-be, showing playfulness, spirituality, or serving as a last tribute to a well-loved old collaborator.

Sometimes a star will announce their pick of a funeral song before the sad day arrives (it really is a great interview question), and other times fans have to wait until the service arrives until we can hear what tune one of the greats went out on. Here are five actual or planned choices from music's great and good, running from hymns to novelty bops to, of course, a couple of people who chose their own work. (Did you want false modesty at a rock star's funeral?) 

"My Way" can be a hard song to be polite about. In the wrong hands, it's an absolute burden, causing reactions so intense that they have occasionally led to violence. With a mature and accomplished singer, however, it's nothing short of a valedictory address, reflecting on a life well lived in occasional defiance of ... well, whatever needed to be defied at the time. Good old Marky Ramone has taken that defiance one step further by choosing for his curtain call not one of the standard renditions by Frank Sinatra or Shirley Bassey, but the magnificently unhinged cover by Sid Vicious.

The Sex Pistols bassist gives the old standard the full Vicious treatment, howling, yelping, and squealing his way through the ostensibly somber song. It's a gleefully irreverent take perfect for the funeral of a punk pioneer (a dude so punk he even got kicked out of the Ramones), and kudos to Ramone for planning to leave the world stage in the same way he entered it.

Poor Ringo Starr. The least loved member of the biggest band in history, he occupies a weird cultural space as both rock royalty and punchline. (Though it's hard to imagine he's really suffered all that much: the last-place Beatle is still a Beatle, so Starr's life is unbelievably lavish, and he got to play the Pope in a movie.) The good-natured Starr isn't really a committed songwriter and only has six songwriting credits with the Beatles, of which only two are solo efforts. One of these is his funeral pick: the light, charming classic "Octopus's Garden."

"Octopus's Garden" is based on Starr's own imagining of known octopus behavior: Sometimes, the animals will gather objects they find interesting (according to the unknowable criteria employed by mollusks) and gather them into, well, a garden. This image cheered Starr up when he was told about it by a sea captain, and it inspired the namesake song, arguably the sweetest tune in the entire Beatles oeuvre. It will be a fittingly light-hearted farewell to one of the most charming stars of the swinging '60s.

It's easy to imagine that Dolly Parton's songs are often played at funerals: That unmistakable voice and heartfelt yet sly songwriting have surely inspired any number of people to make a Parton track their parting words. But when the country-rock-pop luminary left us, she went traditional, choosing the gospel hymn "If We Never Meet Again (This Side of Heaven)."

Like so much of Parton's work, this choice is essentially perfect. It's a sad song (Parton knew everyone would be broken-hearted), acknowledging that some farewells are forever. That said, like many of the songs she wrote herself, it remains hopeful, pointing the listener towards a hoped-for reunion with loved ones in Paradise. And of course it's gospel. Parton was not overtly religious in her public life, but while she did not proselytize, she was open about her faith and hope in a happy hereafter. Gospel was also one of the many American genres in which she felt at home, so fans were left with a goodbye song that felt thoroughly Parton.

Okay, okay. Mick Fleetwood did pick a Fleetwood Mac song, but it's not one closely associated with his own work. "Songbird" is a Christine McVie joint, written in a rapid middle-of-the-night brainstorm by the great lady with the help of an electric piano she kept by her bed, presumably just for occasions like this. It's McVie's light, clear vocals on the track, allowing her an opportunity to shine in a band crowded with personalities; it's the perfect distillation of how she's generally remembered. Gentle, but no lightweight.

"Songbird" is a relatively simple song, but the lyrics start hard: "For you, there'll be no more crying / For you, the sun will be shining." She could be describing love or loss or both or anything in between — the perfect sentiment for a funeral. And, of course, Fleetwood loved McVie, and choosing one of her best artistic moments for his own funeral allows him to pay a final tribute to his old bandmate on his way out the door.