Olivia Newton-John at Shepherd’s Bush Green in London in May 1977. (Photo by United News/Popperfoto).

My 20-year-old daughter, Olivia, spent months trolling clothing websites operated by former 1970s pimps to prepare for her Outside Lands weekend. She went and had a wonderful time. Judging by her chatter when she came home after a four-day disappearance (I asked she call home at least once daily to verify she was still alive) it was all about the music.

Rendering: Adam Pardee/STAFF.

This I didn’t expect, since she was still buying new boots and other necessary accessories/supplies an hour before departure. Yet it became about the music. It’s all she talked about when she got home. She said it brought her to tears.

Maybe this generation isn’t as doomed as Facebook says…

I was going to talk about Olivia at Outside Lands, but then the reason she’s named Olivia sadly passed this past week, after a long battle with cancer.

How does Olivia Newton-John die?

Newton-John was definition of human sunshine when I was a kid. I initially remember her being a singer on the line of country and adult contemporary. She was on TV from time to time. A solid career, but nothing culturally significant.

Then she somehow got the role of Sandy in “Grease.” And went on to own my generation’s version of a signature musical, while starring opposite the biggest young star on the planet coming off “Saturday Night Fever.”

Seriously.

I was a grubby 11-year-old KISS fan when “Grease” was released. My friends and I probably rode our bikes to the theater three or four times to see it. I bought the record. We used to line up and do the “Greased Lighting” scene. It was terribly embarrassing and totally unavoidable.

And Olivia Newton-John became a generation’s idea of a perfect high school girl.

Travolta was appropriately good in “Grease.” But Newton-John absolutely made it magic.

It wasn’t acting so much as it was …  I don’t know. Her presence as miss positive goody two-shoes transforming into the bad girl was truly electrifying.

Yes, seeing Olivia Newton-John in spandex for the first time on the giant move screen at 11 years old confused me by altering my brain forever. I’m pretty sure I hit puberty before she and Travolta came out of the funhouse.

But I actually liked Sandy better before she joined Mötley Crüe. Olivia Newton-John was cool because she wasn’t cool. But it was more than that. She made it look so easy and natural, whether it was or not. She knew exactly what she was doing and owned it. She was so wonderful, everyone forgave her for “Xanadu” and ruining ELO forever.

In the ensuing years, she seemed eternally grateful to everyone around her for having a career she made. Of course, singers that good – and she was good – don’t look like her. But it was more than just hitting the genetic lottery. She just oozed positivity. She was Faith Hill on steroids. If you couldn’t manage to like Olivia Newton-John, I’m sorry about your unhappy upbringing.

I don’t even remember if there were any other choices when it came to naming my Olivia (this was before I knew about Ian Falconer’s great “Olivia” children’s books). I remember my then-wife loved Newton-John and – even though I was a snotty know-it-all music critic/snob at the time – I just loved the name. And if people associated her name with Olivia Newton-John, well, who could possibly be a better reason to name one’s daughter Olivia?

Follow music critic Tony Hicks at Twitter.com/TonyBaloney1967.