30th anniversary of Kurt Cobain’s death
The creation of a blonde god from the noise
Carried by Love: Kurt Cobain at a concert, although not the one our author remembers
© Getty Images
Nirvana frontman Kurt Cobain died 30 years ago today. Good reason to remember his birth. Our author was there live when the singer of an opening band became an immortal headliner.
Where were you when Kurt Cobain died? So, I was sitting at a set breakfast table, Sunday morning, “have you heard?”
But I think the question is much more important: Where were you when Cobain was born? So, I was standing in a crowd of people who mostly had no desire to see the band that was about to take the stage, more like: shuffling, slumped shoulders, hanging guitar.
It’s August 24, 1991, my summer between high school and community service. There is a festival taking place at the Tanzbrunnen in Cologne called “Monsters of Spex” and the headliner is my favorite band at the time, Sonic Youth. A festival like this can take a long time, and now the highlights should finally begin. But of course: the announcer comes on stage and announces: “First of all, the band that got stuck in a traffic jam this afternoon is coming. From Seattle: Nirvana.” Nobody really knows anything about grunge, oh no, nobody wants it now. The welcome applause: hardly measurable.
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A man with sunglasses sings something into the microphone, next to him is a lulatsch in red pants, the drummer takes a seat at the drums of the band that played before, “Rausch” is written on the bass drum. People are running from left to right, another beer anyone? The first song sucks, the man with the sunglasses says “Donkeschon.” Song two, the first hands go up in the air. Song three: The man in the sunglasses starts jumping, leg outstretched, as if he’s trying to kick down a door. Song four: the people in the front rows are jumping. Song five: Nobody goes to get beer anymore (only Lulatsch on the bass opens a beer can). More and more musicians from the other festival bands are now arriving at the edges of the stage, who have apparently been lounging around backstage. After a good quarter of an hour, more than just the people in the front rows are jumping. A riff sounds, and immediately the sunglasses man sings “Hello hello hello hello,” and like metal shavings in front of a magnet, all heads turn in one direction. There is a feeling in the audience, including me, that we are being gripped by something big. Nobody knows this song, nobody will ever get it out of their head. After that, everything is a whirlwind: storms of feedback, throwing guitars, the creation of a blonde god out of the noise.
How was the rest of the evening? I forgot. A few weeks later, the video for “Smells Like Teen Spirit” was shown on MTV for the first time.