28 years ago, I received a phone call from a friend informing me of the passing of Nirvana front man Kurt Cobain.
The information superhighway at the time was more of a two lane road in Kentucky with a single traffic light. So, had she not relayed Kurt Loder's announcement, I'd have been oblivious.
It's one of the few celebrity deaths that hit like a ton of bricks. Maybe it was due to its taking place during my formative years, where I was a moth drawn to the apathetic flame of the Grunge movement.
By all accounts, including this one from British magazine Far Out, Kurt was uncomfortable with fame, to the point of despising it.
Maybe he'd hate the fact that his music had grown so popular that it would spawn so many cover versions (according to Secondhand Songs, there have been 193 different versions of "Smells Like Teen Spirit" alone).
But maybe, just maybe, he'd have given The Polyphonic Spree, a massive congregation of weirdos in Marshall Applewhite robes singing 30 part harmonies, his blessing to remake "Lithium."
Oh, well. Whatever. Nevermind.
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