I didn't expect to be hit with such emotion today. It's just a Tuesday. A busy one at that. But as it turns out,
it has been 17 years since Kurt Cobain died. Our local DJ, John Richards on KEXP 90.3, is in the middle of playing a stirring tribute of Seattle songs this a.m. in honor of Kurt - all of our favorite bands plus poignant clips of a Cobain interview in betwixt. The rush of memories flooded back to me.
I still remember precisely where I was when I heard Kurt died: 5th period history class taught by Mr. L. The news began trickling through our class in whispers and notes. No cell phone texts or emails to tell us. Just pure word of mouth - delivered with raw emotion. Some people cried. Others joked, unbelieving.
After class, a few of my dear friends and I drove down to Lake Washington Blvd, to the small park adjacent to Kurt's house. I suppose we went to see if this was really true. To help get some closure. There was a small gathering of other Nirvana/Kurt/Seattle music fans there, also mourning. Some of my friends ended up on TV - "Inside Edition" or some such celeb gossip show. I was happy they didn't use my clip; it felt somehow exploitative.
In the days that followed, we'd hear more Nirvana music than ever before - back to back blocks. It was all we could talk about. Tributes sprung up around town. A public vigil gathered at the Seattle Center fountain; legions of fans storming the Seattle Center to grieve, collectively.
Historians and journalists always try to pinpoint trends and pivotal moments in music/culture. The days following Kurt's death were that pivotal moment for me and, I suspect, many others. As cheesy as it sounds, it was the day OUR music died.
{update: listen to the KEXP tribute from this morning here - go to "on demand" --> "streaming show archive" and set the start time to 4/5/11, 7.56 a.m.}
