K.C. Part 1
I’ve spent over a week thinking. I believe my thoughts, my writings, and my imagination are those qualities that I possess which truly define me as a human being. I am, at heart, a Pisces - explosively emotional, moody, soft, delicate, compassionate, happy and sad altogether. Perhaps that is why, in my youth and still today I feel almost infantile in my ability to suppress my feelings. A drama queen, always: I cannot hide what I think or the way I perceive others. It shows in my expressions. I really do wear my emotions on my sleeve and at times there are moments where I am ashamed of my inability to be, cold. However, I can admire in myself an ongoing sympathy for individuals whose stories I’ve heard. I can feel compassion and sorrow for people I’ve never met, whose lives ended before I ever learned of their existence, so much so that it can, scare me.
I’ve known for a while that I simply do not possess the ability to embrace music by some elusive bands only found within the underground. I almost always find myself learning about great poets and lyricist, people with wondrous musical achievements, upon some unfortunate or tragic event which is intricately tied to that artist’s image in clouded perceptions of the media. This is not to say that I am difficult to entertain. That I simply do not enjoy listening to music. Or, that I am somehow only allured by particular sounds and/or genres. Most bands do not inspire in me a want or “need” of sorts to know more about their surreal existence. I feel no allegiance to them other then restraining myself from changing the channel as I listen to the radio in my father’s car. No, I am not impossible to please, but my tastes are peculiar, specific, and unwavering.
I suppose I’m difficult to convince. Otherwise, I simply don’t search out different groups, bands, and individuals to whom I wish to lend my support. In the past I’ve found myself disillusioned by the pop scene in general. Watching movies, listening to music, and reading are not what they used to be. In the 21st century, “mono” seems to be the best way to get by. Individualism is discouraged. All is the same, all is redundant, not a spec of creativity or differentiation between “X” and “Y” can be found. I’ve said, many times, that I loathe “happy” faceless music. The records being put out by the Beyonce’s of this world have no meaning. I refuse to think that the world is immaculate, euphoric, and as sex crazed as these records would have me believe.
Having suffered emotionally for some time has taught me much about individuals and the perils that anyone can face. I find that being older amongst a horizon of adolescent fans allows me to be wiser about how I deal with the information I’m given in situations pertaining to life, love, deceit, celebrity, and conflict. I guess I can also thank the 3.5 years I spent at McGill for fully developing my skills in analysis of information and more importantly in critique. I like smart music, basic is not a quality I like to associate myself with. Although my peculiarities may make my Itunes repertoire rather bland, I would rather find myself listening to words I can relate to, which inspire me, and which soothe me in my time of need. Music, to me, is an escape from reality. But, I would not have myself be so escapist as to deny the reality of my situations by proclaiming that I’m “Crazy in Love” or by immersing myself in a world of music videos portraying women as objects and men as abusive mammon hungry thugs. The meaning of life, in my eyes, is about much more then playing into age old stereotypes.
And so, here I am, searching for Nirvana. Nirvana to me represents gaining consciousness of my own musical tastes. As a child we listen to what our parents appreciate but as we age we tend to form our own opinions in terms of what we like and at times what we can relate to. My earliest memories in terms of music include listening to Michael Jackson’s cassettes, and an awareness that I had a penchant for slightly harsher, angrier music.
A first memory comes to mind, Nirvana’s video for “Smells Like Teen Spirit” was shown on Much Music. What I remember the most about the experience of seeing the video is a sense of being lifted, a sense of joy, and a slight rush of adrenaline paired with glimpses of images from the video. It had been one of the first times I really appreciated both music and video. It inspired in me a feeling of intrigue, so much so, that I would ask a friend’s babysitter about the band. As I’ve mentioned in a prior post, Tanya, a friend still to this day, was being babysat by her babysitter’s fiancé as Gayle had recently given birth (if I remember correctly). At some point, while sitting on the sofas watching TV I had turned to Gayle’s fiancé and asked about “that guy with the blonde hair”, he turned to me and retorted with a slight snap; “the one who killed himself?” I was struck by his response, and also by the finality of it all. I didn’t press on or try to continue the conversation but to this day I still remember feeling slightly crushed knowing that someone who created music that I enjoyed had passed on.
The years that have passed since that moment have been full of good memories, harsh times, struggle, and self-discovery. I’ve learned many things whilst at school; trying to fit in. I’ve been brainwashed into liking the “current” pop groups, and have, often, used music as a support system, as a pillar to support me when I was weak. On the ride back from Collège Sainte-Anne I would often blast my cassette player in order to drown out all other occupants. Music was and is something I feel a very deep connection to. Each year my sorrows were intricately linked to a particular song or band; one moment it was “Zen” by Bush-X, the next it was watching Marilyn Manson videos, another moment it was immersing myself knee deep in catchy tunes to escape the reality of my situation. With respect to Nirvana, I suppose it wouldn’t be right to call me a fan. After all, I never really appreciated Nirvana’s music while Kurt Cobain was alive. Neither did I listen to their music for a greater part of my adolescence and early adulthood. I am merely a young woman who has appreciated Nirvana’s music for some time. Most moments spent listening to Nirvana’s hit songs were moments spent in front of the television, watching Much Music, Musique +, or MTV mesmerized by the images unfolding before me.
I always adored watching music videos, to see music interpreted in such a way as to relay messages contained within the lyrics of a song, visually. A personal favourite of mine was the music video for Heart-Shaped Box. It was eerie, it was abstract, it was colourful and at the same time it was dark. I guess you could say it wasn’t your every day run of the mill concept when speaking of music videos. This fact alone drew me in. The lyrics were rather bleak and Cobain’s performance exuded insanity and depression, for some odd reason, even before I was to have my own troubles, psychologically, I felt some type of connection when watching the various scenes portrayed in “Heart-Shaped Box”.
Most of Nirvana’s music videos and live performances were alluring to me. Between 1994 and 2004 I would find myself watching music videos for the band’s many hit songs. Although I never sought to find new material or buy new albums which were released after Kurt’s death, I did enjoy those moments sitting in front of the television or listening to the radio. Great musicians are not characterized by instant popularity but by how relatable they are, and also, by the longevity their music enjoys. The Beatles, Sinatra, Elvis Presley, Madonna, Jimi Hendrix ; these are only some of the many examples I could give of artists whose music, years after its release, is still relevant. Music of this sort seems timeless and finds new fans although it has been decades or centuries post release. In my view, Nirvana’s music fits quite well into this category. Put into perspective, it has not been all that much time since Nirvana was “current”, post-mortem releases have done quite well, and this band’s music is such that new fans can still find it relatable.
Perhaps the mystique of this band is due to the fact that it’s history ended so suddenly as it was still enjoying many measures of success. All that I know for sure is that as I listen to nirvana’s music, I feel taken away. Kurt’s voice is as alluring as it was when he was alive and his lyrics still amaze me. He was a true artist in every form, as a lyricist, writer, poet, painter, and performer.
I’m not too sure of what to make of the “mystery” surrounding Kurt’s untimely passing. Having researched some information on the case I came to realize what a family whose loved one has disappeared must feel, or the relatives of a murder victim must experience every day. That is not to say that I necessarily believe in all of the “conspiracy theories”. The authors of these theories often quote autopsy reports and state that the investigation was botched. I merely mean that Kurt’s death seems unsettled. There is enough uncertainty in the facts of his passing to allow us to pose quite a few questions. This feeling is what entrapped me. I often become obsessed with random facts, images, stories, and this one was no different. Unfortunately, I cannot, myself, distinguish fact from fiction in the case. I too ask myself questions about the “suicide note”, about the layout of the “green house” when the body was found, about the “will talk” that Courtney seemed obsessed with in Kurt’s final weeks, about El Duce’s claim that he was offered money to off the lead signer of Nirvana,… there are so many questions and yet not many answers.
I feel that I’ve learned something about Kurt as I watched a few documentaries about the band and about Kurt himself. I feel that he must have been out of his element, suddenly being famous. Do I feel he was sensitive to his environment and those around him, yes. It is unfortunate that he passed, and in the event that he passed feeling a great deal of pain and sorrow, I feel that is even more unfortunate. There is nothing worse then emotional pain.
I’m sure I’ll have more thoughts about this in the coming weeks. I don’t want to immerse myself in this case so as to harm myself psychologically, but I am still interested in learning about Kurt’s life and supporting the efforts to create an adequate memorial for a man whose words still speak to youth the world over.
I've discovered, at 23 years of age, that I enjoy writing, analysing, thinking about topics that interest me. I figured I would write sething, for the first time in my life, which came fr my heart and my mind. Sething I was not "forced" to do within an educational sphere or within the context of a university course. Last weekend, while lazily flipping through the channels I stumbled upon a presentation of "E! True Hollywood Story" on one of our Canadian music channels. The show told Courtney Love's story, the stripping, the 400$ she would obtain periodically through a trust fund which was set up by her family, the music, and Kurt Cobain. As the episode recounted the events which led up to Miss Love becing a widow, sething in me re-awakened. I had seen "this band with a blonde lead signer" when I was young. I’d seen “that video with the harsh music and cheerleaders”. I remember being 10 years old and visiting my friend Tanya in her he which is now for sale. She was being babysat by Gayle’s fiancé and father to her baby. I’m not certain as to whether or not they are still married. I’d been fascinated by these men. They were both, unlike any people I knew. I liked to look at Gayle’s fiancé’s tattoo. Once, while sitting in the living ro I asked about “that guy with the blonde hair”. The fiancé with his grungy hair and “fuck it all” demeanour turned to me and replied “the one who killed himself?” His response ended the conversation. It was my first experience, hearing that seone had cmitted suicide. Years later, I feel I have a better understanding of why these things happen. I was sewhat thrown off by the Courtney Love Hollywood Story. I am an obsessive person, thinking back and feeling a strong need to put myself in a position where I felt responsible hurt me to se extent. We all feel responsible when seone ends their life due to suffering that they have felt. I felt cfort in the thought that Kurt Cobain, as he was, no longer feels pain or anguish as he is often described as having felt. His life was tough, but that fact does not prevent me fr wanting to celebrate his life and not dwell on the fact that he is “no longer here”. I feel a joy of sorts that wherever his soul rests he is no longer addicted, without privacy, or held down by the pains of life. I’m happy that he rests. I thought of a tattoo I’d like to get which relates to this revelation on my part. I wanted to create an image which represents that depression and psychological trauma does not have to be the end. At times our pain cannot be resolved and I refuse to see death as a negative, when it ces to K.C. I thought that I’d pair up wilting chrysanthemums and a flower I’d seen in one of Kurt’s paintings. My thought is that it is paying hage to seone who’s life really meant sething to so many people, while representing sething for me in my struggles against anxiety, depression, and obesity. I hope to get it once I’ve lost the weight I need to lose. And so, we have my first independent thesis: KC's story. I've done some thinking. And so far, from the information I have, I feel a bit perturbed by Courtney Love's actions. The fact that they wee both on Detox at the same time, but not at the same place or within the same institute bothers me. I am a nurturer, I am by nature someone who cares about people. To not be with my husband as he tried to kick Heroin, would be out of the question for me. More to come soon...
