This day always stands out in my mind. April 8, 1994 to be exact. I was in San Diego, CA working at a sound stage for a production company. I was driving the company van to work and the radio was reporting that Kurt Cobain was believed dead. [His death would later be changed to April 5, but the 8th stands out in my head]. I think it was a Friday, too, and I decided to take the day off. Part because my j-o-b was stale and part because I had to get my personal tribute going. I remember playing the songs that day and then all the lyrics took on a new life and meaning. "Oh, was that what he meant?" I kept on saying to myself. The media propped him up as a generation's lost true genius. No longer a whiny, flannel wearing husband to succubus Courtney Love, but a true member of the "27 year old" club that included Hendrix, Joplin and Morrison, among others. There is a band from the '90s called Urban Dance Squad who had a song called "Famous When You're Dead" that I always associate with the phenomenon of loving the departed. It's the reason why we celebrate December 8 instead of October 9 for John Lennon. His death date is bigger than his birth date. Maybe because it's the shock of losing someone in their prime that makes the death stand out against their birth. I don't mean to get all philosophical on you, take it for what it's worth. As Cinderella once said, "you don't know what you got, until it's gone". But if reflecting back on Kurt effects an emotional pygmy like myself, it probably would do the same for you if only someone reminded you. And that's what I'm doing.
Crank up some Nirvana, I know I am.