Had Kurt Cobain lived, he’d have turned 40 this week.
He died when he was 27.
Ouch. I suddenly feel really old.
Cobain’s death still make me sad, sadder than it should for a guy I never met. In the late 80s I really liked music, or perhaps really wanted to like music. I was in high school at the time, and was at that age where I was trying to figure out who I was. My uncle moved out of his house and onto his boat in preparation for a long-term sailing adventure and give me nearly 400 vinyl albums. There was everything from The Clash to Herbie Hancock to Ray Charles to Mozart to Waylon Jennings. I devoured this collection and found a great many artists that I liked.
But nobody really spoke to me. None of the albums reached up and yanked my stomach and made me want to jump up and dance. I had found great muic, but I was struggling to find my music.
Then came the fall of 1991.
In the span of three months, I had discovered Fugazi’s 13 Songs (my first Compact Disc purchase), Pearl Jam’s Ten, and Nirvana’s Nevermind. I remember the day I first listened to all three of these like it happened last week. I had actually come across the "Smells Like Teen Spirit" single and immediately tried to buy the CD but the store didn’t have them in stock yet! My buddy Aaron and I must have listened to that damn single 75 times in the two weeks I had to wait until Nevermind arrived in stock.
September 1991 – the month I found my music. By the end of that year I had this mudslide of great music coming at me. Faith No More, SoundGarden, L7, MudHoney, Red Hot Chili Peppers.. the list goes on. Hell, I even renewed my life long love for U2 with their Achtung, Baby release.
But to this day I can still work myself into an excited state simply by pulling up Nevermind on my iPod. Thanks, Kurt. I wish you were hear to keep the excitement coming.