I few weeks ago, I was asked to write something about Kurt Cobain for Black Table.com, because today is the ten year anniversary of his suicide.
I am always flattered and grateful when someone asks me to contribute to something, because it makes me feel like a "real" writer, but I often have to decline, because writing takes time, and time is something I just don't have right now.
This was different, though, because I thought I had an interesting take on Kurt Cobain's death, so I accepted. I wrote it up, re-wrote it, and then got buried in the Star Trek convention and forgot to send it in until one day after the deadline.
So it didn't make the article, which is a drag, because the other writers are all respected and they all wrote great things. It would have been cool to be alongside them. They tell me it was cut for space . . . but I just read the other contributions, and it's pretty clear to me that I'm not yet in their league.
I'm thrilled that I've had this realization while I'm suffering a crisis of confidence at the tail end of a rewrite, and I'm terrified about the "sophomore slump."
But since I already put the work into it, it seems stupid to just file it off in the "never got published" directory.
Here it is:
The first time I heard "Nevermind," I wasn't impressed. As far as I was concerned, it was just a poor rip off of The Pixies' "Doolittle." When "Smells Like Teen Spirit" took over eMpTyVee and every radio station in the country, I got burned out pretty damn fast.
Then I read an interview with Kurt Cobain in . . . I think it was
Rolling Stone. Maybe it was Spin. But he said that there wouldn't be Nevermind without Doolittle. Kurt Cobain was influenced by The Pixies? Okay, I'll give it another try.
I listened to the whole album three or four times and I was hooked. The only other album that has completely pulled me in like that was Radiohead's OK Computer. I bought "Bleach" within a week, and stood in line to pick up "In Utero" when it was released. I still think that Kurt's version of "The Man Who Sold The World" is one of the most beautiful and haunting things I've ever heard.
For as much as I loved the music, I completely hated Kurt Cobain's antics. The destruction of vintage guitars enraged me, the dresses and outrageous behavior in interviews just annoyed me, and over time it became difficult for me to appreciate the music on its own. By the time Kurt ended his life, I'd lost interest in Nirvana, and I told my friend Dave, "Well, what do you expect? Poor Kurt had all his dreams come true, and he just couldn't handle it. Maybe he ran out of vintage Strats to destroy."
Dave did his best to convince me that rock had lost a pioneer. Without Kurt's music, he said, there wouldn't be Perl Jam, or Soundgarden, or Alice In Chains. Without Nirvana, he suggested, Guns N Roses may still be sitting atop Rock's Mount Olympus.
"Meh. There's one less Junkie in the world," I said. The truth was, I'd recently lost a dear friend to suicide, and Kurt's death brought back a lot of unresolved sorrow over my own loss.
Almost a year later, I was listening to Chet Baker, an influential Jazz musician who was also a heroin addict when he fell (some say jumped) out of an Amsterdam hotel window in 1988. Baker was a trumpet player, with a soulful voice. There was always a touch of sadness and longing in his lyrical style -- be it musical or vocal. I'd been reading a lot of Burroughs at the time, and I called up my friend Dave to rave about Chet Baker's "How Deep is the Ocean?"
I told him how I could feel Chet Baker's sadness, and I wondered if his addiction played a part in his music, the way Burrough's addiction clearly informed his writing.
"Oh, you mean like Kurt Cobain." Dave said. A statement, not a question.
I thought for a second. "Yes. Exactly like Kurt Cobain. I never thought of it that way."
"So you maybe have a different opinion of him now?"
"Yes. Yes, I do." I surprised myself with my answer. "But I'll never
forgive him for destroying all those vintage guitars."
Dave laughed, "You're such a dick."
"Yes I am. But I'm a dick who can listen to Nirvana again."
Here's the part where I eulogize Kurt Cobain.
I didn't know Kurt, and his death didn't greatly impact my life. But I knew his music, and when I came to understand his addiction, and his frustrations with the music industry's efforts to turn him into just another commodity, I felt sad for him, and mourned his loss.
I don't think Kurt Cobain was that great a musician, and I can speak from experience, because even I was able to play along with most of Nevermind, without learning any new chords. But he was an amazing writer, and his real legacy can be seen in garage bands and on record store shelves all over the world. Dave was right: without Kurt Cobain and Nirvana, there would be no Perl Jam, no Soundgarden, no Alice in Chains, and Seattle would just be this mysterious city where it rains a lot.
I can't believe it's been ten years -- a decade! -- since Kurt Cobain died. Wherever he is, I hope he's sipping Pennyroyal Tea.
