I’ve recently taken a journey back to the 1990s, courtesy of Charles Cross’ Kurt Cobain biography, Heavier than Heaven. The book came out eight years ago but it’s taken me until now to read it in large part because I figured it would be emotionally draining. Even after all this time I found myself crying toward the end of the book, something I don’t think I’ve ever done before. There were so many issues that seemed to contribute to his unhappiness – poor parenting, a family history of mental illness, undiagnosed medical issues, drug abuse, family and financial obligations, celebrity. And there were an awful lot of just plain skeezy people around (as I suppose there always are when someone has money and an addiction).
A funny thing, to me, is that while the whole American/Northwest/grunge thing had become so dark and depressing at that point, on the flipside this was also the era of Britpop. Not that Britpop was brainless fun – there certainly was an element of social commentary to it – but it was definitely uplifting compared to what was going on here. It’s a bit like the Kinks going off and doing songs about magical cats and village greens while the Americans were wallowing in psychedelic sludge. I’m taking sides, mind you: I like it all.
Here’s to a schizophrenic decade.
