Ten years ago yesterday, Kurt Cobain committed suicide.
At that point I had been living in the Seattle area for about a year and a half. I had never heard of either Kurt Cobain or Nirvana until that first news report of his death. I had
vaguely heard of something called "grunge", but I knew very little about it beyond the name. To this day I would probably be hard pressed to identify grunge pieces from other forms of indie rock --- well okay, I guess I can identify REM now, but maybe REM isn't actually considered grunge; I don't know...
Nor do I remember exactly where I was when I heard that first news report --- most likely I was driving to or from work, since I never listened to the radio at any other time. The story made pretty much zero impression on me beyond the usual touch of sadness/tragedy/wasted-potential involved whenever someone I don't know senselessly dies at a fairly young age.
It wasn't until the following week when the various magazine cover stories started showing up that I began to understand that this wasn't actually just a local news story about some random teenager committing suicide. And, as time went on, I could only grow more and more amazed that someone whom I'd had absolutely no clue about whatsoever
could have been so famous / so central to people's lives / so etc.
Never mind that I would not have remembered the date at all today were it not for the n
other people on my Friends
list posting entries about this. And since they probably wouldn't appreciate my putting this comment in their journals, I'll do it here instead.
Ok, so I live under a rock and am apparently not true Generation XTM
(...even if I do satisfy Douglas Copeland's original
definition of the term...).
Please don't hate me.