Endless Nameless

Today is April 5th, which doesn`t seem like a big deal to very many people, and rightfully so. To me it is the day one of my heroes killed himself.

Like many people in my generation, Kurt Cobain is one of those defining celebrity characters. He came around at a time when I felt life slipping away from me. He was there when nothing seemed to have meaning to me. I won`t say that he provided meaning, that would give him and music way too much power.

I will say that he gave voice to my feelings, voice to my thoughts, and voice to my desires. In a strange way, he spoke for me in a way I never could.

Kurt Cobain had a strange voice, a strange style and a strange manner about him. It was my voice, my style and my manner.

What most people fail to realise about the style is that it was the style of poor. All of those cool clothes that people rushed out to buy from department stores were the clothes we all got from goodwill. Our hair was wild because we didn`t want to spend what little we had on hair cuts.

Style was never important to us, it was always about substance, and I think that was one of the things that weighed too heavily on a tortured soul.

In a way, he had become all the things he hated. He became a parody of himself along with an icon to people who would have never given him the time of day previously.

This was why he was so important to me. I felt like I got it, like for the first time I was on the inside. I was part of the winking few who truly got the message, truly felt the sorrow for a world that had passed us by.

Kurt was special to me because he played the music we played at street level like it was something real. He made our feelings real by plastering them all over the billboards for everyone to see. I know that sucked for him, but it meant the world to me.

Because he came along, I had power. I had a chance to speak my mind because now people were open to listening to what we had to say.

I know he wasn`t alone in this, but he was one of, if not the best.

I will forever remember him for the gifts he gave me.

I am glad that his music lives on in my head, and am glad that we at least have something of him left to share.

On this strange and horrid anniversary, I say thanks man, and present to you guys a little taste here of what it was like for me.



RIP you fucking psycho!