Grunge has lost 3 of its 4 most priced gems to suicide. And I can not help but wonder: Is there something in this music? Something in the created that sooner or later gets the better of the creator?
When an artist dies; loses a battle to self, a part of the fan dies. For years, the artist stood beside the fan, helping him through thick and thin, lending an always present shoulder for the fan to lean on. For years, the artist led the fan to sunlight, regardless of how many times the fan, willing or unwilling, strayed right into the dark, again. For years, the fan modelled himself over this inspiration, only to make him his idol, his very own version of God.
How then can the fan not be crushed by the sudden demise of his light? How then, can one pull the ignorant card, when all the heart yearns is to mourn?
I am of the belief that our final processions are made not in the grave, but in a small secluded corner of a loved one's mind, where all our memories can rest in peace, for eternity.
Eddie Vedder now, is the last man standing for grunge, and I hope he stands so, long and tall for many decades to come.
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