It’s been nearly two weeks since the Grammys aired, and my Facebook feed is still clogged with Kanye discourse (“He’s a douchebag!” “Yeah? Then you’re a racist!”). And surely somebody somewhere is still seething that Joan Rivers, who won a posthumous Grammy for Best Spoken Word Album, was omitted from this year’s “In Memoriam” tribute. That might not have ruffled any feathers if the short segment, which almost qualified as “rapid-fire,” hadn’t squeezed in non-musical types like Robin Williams.

Ken Ehrlich, the show’s producer, insists there was no disrespect intended. “It was just that [Joan’s] Grammy involvement was certainly less than Robin’s,” he stated. (Williams, after all, won five Grammys throughout his career; Rivers just the one, received right before the tribute aired.) “I try and put a limit on the ‘In Memoriam’ and just have to make choices at some point.” Which is basically a really long, very polite way of saying, “Tough!”

Here’s a list of other recent, uncelebrated deaths. Apologies to singer-songwriter Lesley Gore, who was way too popular to be included ...

1. Edgar Froese. A founding member of Tangerine Dream, the German psychedelic-synth group famous for spacey, side-long instrumentals with titles like “Geburt (Genesis)/Reise Durch Ein Brennendes Gehrin (Journey Through a Burning Brain),” Froese’s passing earned a measly one mention in my Facebook feed—shocking, given the number of music geeks I know. But the pop-ambient score he wrote for Risky Business left quite an impression on my teenage brain. If most boys left that movie wanting a pair of Wayfarers and a Porsche and to be inside of Rebecca De Mornay, I just wanted the soundtrack, so I could listen to “Love on a Real Train” forever.

2. Rod McKuen. One of the best-selling poets of all-time, McKuen was also an insanely prolific singer-songwriter who contributed to recordings by everyone from Sinatra to Streisand and even Madonna. Critics abhorred him (“gooey schmaltz that wouldn’t pass muster in a freshman creative-writing class”), and his spoken-word albums (filled with maudlin laments and syrupy odes to his cat) are the definition of kitsch. Yet McKuen, who eventually came out as gay, offered cryptic glimpses into what life was like for so-called “bachelors” before Stonewall—sad, lonely and deeply unfulfilled.

3. Steve Strange. In addition to fronting Visage, the British synth-pop band most famous for the hit “Fade to Grey,” Strange also co-founded the Blitz Club, the wildly influential nightclub that served as ground zero for the New Romantic movement, which spawned Adam and the Ants, Culture Club, Duran Duran and countless other prettied-up, primped-out pop stars. Without this guy, the ’80s would have been, like, seriously bunk.

4. RadioShack. Not quite a death, perhaps, since many of its location will just turn into Sprint stores, but it’s hard not to get misty-eyed with remembrance now that this American institution has filed for bankruptcy. It was where I got my first stereo. It was where I always bought those little microcassettes so I could record classes and interviews, maybe even blackmail someone. It was where we used to buy those little thingamajigs and convert them into drug paraphernalia! Instead of giving the 94-year-old company a proper goodbye, though, the press cracked a lot of jokes about the Shack’s irrelevance, inspiring a segment on Last Week Tonight With John Oliver and a fitting epitaph: “Laugh while you still can, sh*theads. Because, one day you, too, will be obsolete.”