This past weekend, drummer Steve Foley passed away at the age of 49. Foley, of course, is best known for replacing Chris Mars in the Replacements for their final tour in 1991 after years spent gigging on the local Minneapolis music scene. Upon hearing word of his passing, I found myself revisiting a thought — a concept, if you will — that’s been vying for more space in my mind as of late.

My thought, of course, is that there’s really no less flattering sight than that of the aging rock ‘n’ roll musician. Now, before you respond with a sarcastic “boo-hoo,” hear me out. It’s one thing to show your age in a grey cubicle — as long as they make Dockers in your size, truth be told, you’re still good to go — but a rocker hitting his 40s is a whole ‘nother bag of hammers.

Rock ‘n’ roll’s very inception — or conception, if you will — was a reaction to the stodgy “grown-up” music of the day, and while its first real star, Bill Haley, was already pushing 30 (!) by the time “Rock Around the Clock” appeared in the closing credits of the film Blackboard Jungle and changed the face of popular music forever, rock ‘n’ roll still enjoyed an immediate and irrevocable connection to youth.

For teenagers in America who had long been stuck listening to the same music as their parents, rock ‘n’ roll was something they could call their own. Haley was a huge star, of course, but the proverbial elder statesman soon gave way to much younger idols with whom teenagers could more closely identify, including Elvis Presley, Frankie Avalon, and Ricky Nelson.

Presley, of course, is probably the best example of rock ‘n’ roll’s celebration of youth. After all, while talent surely had something to do with it, it was his youthful bravado and untamed sexuality that made him a star. He had the swagger of a young man who had no idea what he couldn’t do, and America’s teenagers loved every controversial shake of the hips and snarl of the lips. He, more than anyone, made sure that rock ‘n’ roll belonged to the young: he was young, the millions of adoring fans were young, and they saw something in each other that made for a beautiful relationship.

As he grew older, though, he lost touch with his audience and watched as bands like the Beatles and Rolling Stones stole his thunder. His final days were spent as a tired Vegas act going through the motions, lost in a drug-induced haze and utterly alone in a world that, for the most part, had moved on from him years ago. He was 42.

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