A good blog entry on the impact of Kurt Cobain.
I hate married people
Helen Razer writes about the impact that Kurt had on the contemporaries of the time, and how he succeeded through anti-establishmentarianism…well, establishment in the form of fame and celebrity, or rejection that of.
“He succeeded through a lack of effort. By virtue of not trying at all, Kurt became an unlikely poster boy.” Cobain openly rejected the corporate machinery of the entertainment industry and the racism, queer-baiting and misogyny so familiar to rock’n’roll. He gave the middle finger to mainstream culture but did so with the kind of fractured, attention deficient laziness characteristic of his age-mates. “He was the ultimate, intelligent slacker” says Kerr. “He openly rejected it all.” It was this apparent absence and rejection of effort that catapulted him to a status that will be preserved by an entire generation.”
I agree, and I think that he epitomises the idea that people can have success without trying, and also showed that the push for fame and into his private life from the meda and the public drove him to his death.
I was bound to write about this sometime, so here goes…
About four years ago, at the anniversary of Nirvana’s Nevermind, I read a magnificent article in the Age by Charles R Cross. It was an excerpt from one of many Kurt Cobain biographies, and it drew me into wanting to explore the life and music of Kurt and Nirvana.
Being a child from a relatively strict upbringing, and not having too many friends as a child, I did not know much of Nirvana during their prime, apart from Smells Like Teen Spirit. I was around nine when Nevermind was released, and 13 when Kurt died. Thinking about it now, it’s surprsing that I wasn’t into them as a kid because my parents liked such a wide range of music. I sort of thought the grunge era was too rough, and far heavier than the Southern Sons and Martika playing in my cassette player. I remember my babysitter idolising Kurt and when he died, she showed me a glad-wrapped copy of Who magazine featuring his famous black and white portrait, with his large empty eyes and stubble. I couldn’t comprehend the fascination he brought to the hoardes of fans, from pre-teens and teenagers to middle aged professionals. Watching some Nirvana docos more recently, I see now how Nirvana was the rebirth of rock and roll in the 1990s, and that Kurt demonstrated that ordinary person like him and two mates could jam in the garage and write superhits, to become one of the biggest bands in the world.
I’ve read countless articles on Nirvana and several Kurt Cobain biographies, and it’s this documentation about the era that encouraged me to listen to the music. And I have to say, Unplugged is one of the most beautiful albums I’ve heard. Reading the passion that fans felt from Nirvana and Kurt, and the commentary that he was just a troubled, not troublesome man, makes me desperately feel that I want to experience that exact time when Nirvana were at the prime, when Kurt was an icon for every teenager, and when record companies and his wife weren’t milking his legacy for every suicidal penny. As morbid as it sounds, I wish I could have mourned with the masses. Yet I wouldn’t even class myself as a big fan of the band. There’s something beautiful and captivating about Kurt, and a great sense of belonging, and I just want to have been a bigger part of that.
Last year I went to see some huge photos of Nirvana, taken from 1989 to 1992, at Mario’s cafe in Brunswick St. I’ve seen those pictures on countless magazine covers and t-shirts of apathetic teenagers. The photos were taken by Melody Maker and NME photographer Stephen Sweet. They were the size of windows, larger than life, and I felt like this was one of the closest spaces that I’d get to Kurt Cobain. Ironically - and I did pause for a moment to wonder whether my actions were in poor taste - I went to view the photos on the 10th anniversary of Kurt’s death (April 5 2004), which was in the same week as my friend’s attempted suicide by shooting himself in the head. I marveled at the photos, and wondered what he would look like now, whether he would still be making music, and whether he will be happy.
In a recent interview with Dave Grohl on Enough Rope, he was talking about the way he loves life, and his stance on drugs (for the record, he is anti-drug). It was such a powerful collection of words exchanged between him and Andrew, and it made me wish he could have helped Kurt in some way.
ANDREW DENTON: Let’s finish on something that is really great that Shirley Manson from Garbage said about you. The lead singer of the Libertines, Pete Doherty, recently survived an overdose leading that classic rock’n'roll lifestyle. When asked, “What would you say to Pete Doherty”, she said, “I wouldn’t say anything. I would get him to talk to David Grohl. He is full of life. He is into the joy of life, not some hackneyed rock’n'roll cliche.” Is that how you feel about life, joyous?
DAVID GROHL: Absolutely, yeah. Yeah, I mean, with someone like Pete from the Libertines, who I have never met, God, it’s like a biography that you have read 10 times before. It doesn’t have to be that way. I’m not one to preach to anybody. I’ve had my share of fun, too. But music is such a beautiful thing. I would hate to see it suffer to something like drugs. What a drag. What a waste. Such a bummer. In a way it is almost glorified, you know. “Wow, he must be a bad ass, he is living the life.” To me it just seems like, “God, don’t do it.” It’s such a cliched dead end.” But at the same time I don’t mind drinking half a bottle of whiskey every now and then with some friends. (From Enough Rope on ABC TV)
That just made me really happy to know that the rock and roll lifestyle is not all drugs and partying, and that musicians also want to show their respect for the music by not indulging in excess.
I am sure Kurt respected the music, but the fame made the music something else to him. Through a life of not trying to succeed, ultimate success brought him down.
