Review Summary: We'll float around, hang out on clouds. Then we'll come down & have a hangover.
Kurt Cobain wasn't the best but was the first of those whose lives did not make any ***ing sense to break out into the mainstream and scream meaningless hatred at a world that understood him as much as we understand the Universe. But the grotesque beauty of his existence is the enigmatic shroud that prevents us from knowing just exactly what happened at his Lake Washington residence on April 5th, 1994 give or take a day. In death he is far more legendary than he could have been during life, but far less effective. His music reflected his laziness, his fiery excitement, sadness, and disgust - and such a person would be categorized as a suicide risk by anyone who didn't understand the millions of kids rocking out to Nirvana in a sweaty, sad excuse for a venue. These rigid John & Jane's created the psychological mess that is Kurt Cobain and his endless flock of supporters and obsessors. John and Jane are the bane of the sane the way their all the same. John & Jane say stay home, study, and Jimmy and Jenny say *** you, why should we? Well to get a proper education of course! To lead a meaningful life! What are you, a ***ing Anarchist? Why yes, we are. And so Jimmy & Jenny start running around, brandishing a flag, a metaphor they simply don't understand, and go ahead and got themselves killed by dirty stolen needles and a good friend named Hard Drugs. A meaningful life, what is that? Is it what John & Jane say it is? Is it a career? How come John & Jane have been following this generic formula for years and years and never strayed off course until they finally gave birth to Jimmy & Jenny? What the fuck happened? Kurt Cobain is the answer to that question, in the entire sad Seattle bum that he is. Kurt is a man who found comfort in nothing and an enemy in something. How could he concentrate on schoolwork and chores and responsibility if living under a bridge just wasn't so bad? Why the fuck should he? Imposition kills. What is duty but the opinion of someone else? What is work but embodying that opinion? What is study but absorbing that opinion? Opinions, mm-mmm, opinions! sang Kurt at his existential peak. Now you can hate me for hating society, but that society is your society and mine is my own and not yours to fiddle with, you self-righteous football-playing bastard. If we follow the footsteps of people we hate then where the hell are we going?
Kurt's final farewell was a little album entitled "MTV Unplugged In New York", the Nirvana version. Here it sounded like Kurt had at long last accepted his purpose on this planet and understood what he had to do so the children he'll leave in his wake will not awaken tired, confused and hating everybody every morning. The soothing rhythms of his poorly tuned acoustic guitar vibrated through my brain a long, long time ago and still do, reminding me of what happens when a chaotic individual reaches nirvana. I'm not a Buddhist but Christ, did this album totally spiral my view of Nirvana in a completely different direction. I was face to face with the man who took on the world and won, but he couldn't defend himself against buckshot. I wonder if that bumbling electrician who found the body thought about how so many people had lost their Jesus Christ when he saw him laying there, blood trickling from his head. I wonder if he'd seen this MTV special and noticed that the guy really didn't seem like a "suicide risk". How about a more thorough investigation? People who were like Kurt listened to Kurt and those people keep to themselves, an unsacred vessel of human anxiety. If there is a hell these people would go there because they have done nothing with their lives, and stand on the sidelines as big things happen much to the dismay of Martin Luther King Jr. When their leader was crushed by society's inevitable greed, they must have been crushed along with him because the raw power of Nirvana has yet to be duplicated. With MTV Unplugged In New York, the band let the world gasp a relieving breath for this "suicide risk", whatever the *** that means, is okay, he's okay and he's going to be healthy and fine. He's probably giving to charity now or something like that. Why would a philanthropist kill himself? What sense does this make?
What do we have left of Kurt's incoherent lyricism and his abrasive personality? A headless corpse dead before it was supposed to be. That's just ***ing wonderful. I can't write anymore, I'm sorry, I have to hop back on the train to American Dreamland. By the way, the last track on this CD is pretty ***ing great.
Things have never felt so swell.........
