Smells Like Sorrow

Never met him, never saw him. I tried to get tickets for a recent show in Fitchburg, but my fingers weren't fast enough. So when I heard Friday afternoon that Kurt Cobain had been found dead, a victim of a self-inflicted shotgun blast to the head, I felt a sense of loss. I was a huge fan of Nirvana.

Yet I wasn't worried about the possibility of no more Nirvana discs in the short term. American music capitalism ensures that there will probably be two more Nirvana albums; I'll bet on a recently recorded MTV Unplugged performance and a collection of unreleased tracks.

Cobain's suicide was the first death of a major rock star in the age of MTV. Indeed, Cobain's music snaked into the homes of millions of cable-viewers before it ever took to the radio airwaves. We knew his face as soon as we saw the music on MTV.

Watching the network Friday afternoon reminded me of the coverage of the attempt on President Reagan's life in 1981. Kurt Loder, MTV's newscaster, sat at the station's New York headquarters with a stern look on his face, repeating that Cobain had killed himself and telling the audience "if you never saw this band, you never will have another opportunity." I had figured that out myself.

Loder had interviews with Rolling Stone's David Fricke and Cobain biographer Michael Azerrad on what might have influenced Cobain's decision to put a 12-gauge to his head and end it all. Fricke and Azerrad mouthed the normalities about "inner pain" but really had no more of a clue than anyone else. These interviews were interspersed with past interviews with Cobain himself and, of course, a healthy does of old videos and performances.

Fifteen years ago this would have been impossible. Cobain's photo would have been flashed briefly on the network news programs and one of the three major talking heads would have mispronounced his name. With the advent of MTV, those who were intimately familiar with his life were allowed to speculate unconvincingly on the causes of his death. Progress, I suppose.

Already the comparisons have been made between Cobain and the pantheon of dead rockers that have pantheon of dead rockers that have piled up over the years. While it cannot be denied that Cobain was rocker and is now dead, the way he shuffled off this mortal coil differed drastically from his new analogy-mates.

Much as Oliver Stone would have you believe otherwise, Jim Morrison died from one drink too many. Guitar great Jimi Hendrix simply took more Quaaludes than were necessary. John Bonham, Led Zeppelin's drummer, should have been lying on his stomach after all those shots of vodka. But Kurt Cobain overdosed on buck shot.

There can be no doubt about his intentions. The image of a star who tied one on a bit too tight will offer no consolation here. Cobain wanted to die and in the end no one could stop him.

It was all too much for him. The scruffy kid from Aberdeen, Washington initially catapulted to international stardom on the basis of four catchy chords. From sleeping on couches to riding in limos, Cobain was never comfortable with success and the fame that went with it. He often voiced sadness about not being able to do the things he used to enjoy, like just going to a club and seeing a band.

He longed for the anonymity that the enjoyed before becoming, in his words "the untouchable boy-wonder." In the end, he may have gotten what he wanted; the coroner had a hard time identifying the body.

Edward F. Mulkerin III's column appears on alternate Wednesdays.