It can be a real chore accounting for the last 18 years. In a nutshell, I left school, failed at several relationships, fronted or semi-fronted 3 failed bands, moved from Bowling Green to Toledo back to Youngstown and ultimately to Chicago, worked a few jobs and counted the grey hairs slowly invading my pate. 1994 to today has been a veritable lifetime, during which I guess I've led many lives.
So, 18 years ago today ... (my first) senior year at Bowling Green ... a grey, rainy friday morning a year into the first Bubba Clinton administration ... hung over from last night, late to my morning newspaper meetings, I start the shower. I find my black cassette copy of 'Bleach' procured from a high school friend's older brother ca. 1990, put it in a boom box & crank it. Washing off the night before, I find myself singing along, rocking out, thinking out loud, "wow, this is *still* the coolest album, is so much fun." And it is. Negative Creep. Scoff. 'Daddy's little girl ain't a girl no more ...'
I walk the near-mile to campus. My meeting is at West Hall & my coworker at the paper has a radio show downstairs, so I pop in to say hello. He says, "have you heard?"
"They found a body at Kurt Cobain's house. All they're saying is it's a small, blond man in his 20s."
"It's Beck. I hope. Or some homeless kid," I say. Hoping against hope.
I go up to my meeting & keep one good eye on the Associated Press wires for the next couple of hours. Soon enough, all of us know the story. Someone has a party that night and I give a good load of angry shit to some jam band-listening coworker who can't spell. It will be a solid four years before I can really enjoy 'Bleach' again.
A lot has happened in 18 years. David Geffen has gotten richer. David Grohl has made a fortune in nonthreatening show tunes. I would say the world of working in song has suffered, but the songs are still there. Something about the opposite of Marc Antony's soliloquy in 'Julius Caesar.'