Yeah, kind of an odd drawing of the line--what makes a visual tribute any less "creepy" or "tacky" than an audio one? Does this mean for example Beatles lovers have to put away their Beatles albums, never to listen to them again, because there's a dead man's voice singing on them? Do we go back through Robin Williams' filmography and mute all his speaking parts?
Not without sympathy for the OP are these questions posed, hearing the voice of the dead being a profoundly recurring motif throughout human history. And yet only in relatively recent times has technology afforded us this ability that has in prospect haunted our many myths and literatures, since the moment we began to construct them. Maybe that the voice itself, our ability to manipulate air and across those unseens waves place into the minds of others our own thoughts, desires, needs, fears, is such a terrifying product of consciousness, that the thought of the dead, or at least their voices, coming back through the door we dare not open and bestowing upon us sound bites of the forbidden, serpentine fruit, would cast us out of what ever little semblance of Eden we've held fast to in our blissful ignorance of whatever lies beyond. The possibility would certainly carry with it a potent distillation of the unease that comes with the "gift" of walking around with the voices of the living constantly invading and reshaping our identities. Of course in this particular case, "one minute left" could be seen as an ominous reminder of the great play clock ticking down the seconds of our own mortality. Or more optimistically, simply an urging to play out the rest of our lives as if that's all we had left. Either way, one could be forgiven for their unease in this respect.
To the question of its tackiness though, certainly there's a point where it could be, for instance, selling it as a 99 cent ringtone, or Bud Lynch talking bobble-head night--but this isn't even close to crossing that line. In fact, there really isn't a better tribute to a man most of us only knew through his voice. I couldn't tell you what Bud Lynch looked like, could never have pointed him out on the street. But his voice was unique and recognizable, and after so many years part of the architecture and atmosphere of the Joe; it should remain so to the end, and if they wanted to continue onto the new building, I would have no argument.
