something in the way

I wrote this 10 years after Kurt Cobain killed himself and feel like posting it again................................................................................................................because I found this cool montage on Youtube and remembered there was a time I really cared about music. Now I could give a shit about new music, or to be precise, Brooklyn.

It was Christmas of 1991 when I bought the single of Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit.'

My cousin Kevin and I sat down on my water bed, put the cassette in and listened as our ears were hurled into a raging torrent of fuzzy power chords, booming drums, and the singer's uncultivated howl.

My father, a guitar player, said the music was simple and he couldn't understand what the singer was saying.

I loved it.

Kurt Cobain, the skinny, gravel-throated singer, was melding punk, heavy metal and rock n' roll into a music described as "grunge.' Their first major-label debut, Nevermind, was the first compact disc I ever owned.

Cobain, drummer Dave Grohl, and bassist Krist Novoselic didn't wear makeup, leather pants, or use hair spray -- I'm not even sure they washed their hair. They wore whatever jeans and T-shirts were closest to them when they rolled out of bed. In one surreal video, filled with riotous cheerleaders, moshing teens, and one unsanitary janitor, the band seemingly squashed the fluffy, lipstick rock that dominated the 80s.

"Here we are now, entertain us,' Cobain sang to millions of teens ready to be entertained.

I think Cobain probably would have hated everything I've said so far.

It's clear from reading his published journals (which I feel guilty for doing) that he just wanted to earn a living by making music. One entry details a cleaning business he envisioned in order to fund the band.

He just wasn't celebrity material -- most people aren't. He didn't have the magnetism inherent in Madonna, the mysticism of Jim Morrison, or even the social consciousness of one of his contemporaries -- Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam.

Cobain, who often seemed asocial with a sarcastic sense of humor, was unable to handle what the world demanded from him, and heroin and pills became his sanctuary.

I was 16 years old when Cobain raised a Remington shotgun to his face and pulled the trigger.

And to be honest, part of me admired him for it. He didn't sell out, I thought.

Now I have a son and another child on the way -- I no longer admire him for checking out so early. He was partly selfish for abandoning his talents and millions of fans, but even more so for leaving an equally troubled wife and young daughter. Unlike so many, he had the money to get the treatment he really needed.

What Cobain ultimately left for me is the soundtrack of my youth -- Nirvana in my headphones while I jogged or cruised the streets in my 1986 Buick Grand National; Pearl Jam at a party beneath the summer stars; Soundgarden while I scrubbed swimming pools with muriatic acid; Alice in Chains beside a campfire at Lake Wallenpaupack in the Poconos.

Every time I hear their songs, I'm pulled back into those wonderful memories -- July of 1998 stands out in particular.

I plopped a few quarters into a jukebox at a local bar and played my favorite Nirvana song, a cover of Leadbelly's "Where Did You Sleep Last Night?' from the Unplugged in New York album.
As Cobain wailed on about heartache and deceit, I got a tap on the shoulder from a girl I had met at the bookstore where I worked. She commended me on my choice in music, we started talking, and I married her five years later.

Maybe Kurt Cobain was a rock god, a revolutionary who changed the face of music. Personally, I think he was an extremely talented, fragile man, who struggled with drug problems but loved to make music.

And that's why he means so much to me.