Got To Give It Up

In case you hadn't noticed, today is the 10 year anniversary of the death of Kurt Cobain. Or so they think, since his body was found days after the fact. We are being reminded of this by news articles on the internet, radio tributes, magazine covers (was he ever really gone?) and columns by journalists aplenty proclaiming: "What if?"

I think about that too, because I loved Nirvana just as much as anybody else in my peer group at that time. I still love them. I remember seeing them in dank little clubs in San Diego and San Francisco before Nevermind happened. Me, my brother and my best friend saw them perform with Pearl Jam (openers) and the Red Hot Chili Peppers (headliners) at the Cow Palace in SF for New Year's Eve, 1991 (Nevermind was just a couple months old) was becoming 1992 (Nevermind topped the Billboard charts and "Smells Like Teen Spirit" was a phenomenon). It was a pivotal event for all bands, and I rarely saw Nirvana after that - they were too huge. But I loved them anyway.

I remember what I was doing when I found out Kurt had killed himself - I was running a candy store, placing an order for gummi bears. I called my indie rock boyfriend. We were both stunned, but not surprised. We worked on the UC Berkeley campus, and I left early to have a beer with a couple other shocked music dorks. My boyfriend had band practice that night (they got nothing done in their also bewildered states) and I walked to the movie theatre down the street and saw "The Age of Innocence." It was beautiful and I cried like a baby. I don't usually do that.

There is another equally important tragic death to be remembered at this time; the 20th anniversary of the death of Marvin Gaye. I haven't seen any magazine covers for him, though.

On April 2, 1984, Marvin Gaye was shot to death by his father, a minister, for allegedly being so coked out of his mind that he was endangering the family. While Cobain was no doubt important in the world of rock, Gaye was hugely influencial to rock and and gospel and soul artists alike. Born on April 1st , 1939 (yep - killed the day after his 45th birthday), he left his dad's church choir to hook up with the likes of Don Covay and Billy Stewart to do r&b vocals, and later doo-wop under the tutelage of Bo Diddley. In 1960, Gaye hooked up with Motown as a session drummer and singer, but with an awesome future to come.

He started off doing dancey numbers and got sweeter ("How Sweet It Is" in fact, in 1965) as time went by. His partnership with Tammi Terrell produced some of the best soul duets to date ("Your Precious Love") until her untimely death in 1970. Terrell actually collapsed in Gaye's arms onstage during a performance after developing a brain tumor. Her loss caused him to get reclusive for a bit, but then he came out with the amazing What's Going On - a beautiful soul album showcasing Gaye's spiritual and sensual side - an album Motown didn't want to release but became Gaye's most successful piece of work once they did. His work just got more groovalicious and aware as time went on; commenting not only on love & sex, but God & politics as well. He was a literate, creative, intelligent, soulful musician. And he was a total cokehead.

As with Cobain, inevitably insecurity, fear and drug abuse make for a deadly cocktail. I've argued with a friend that it's that artist mentality that does it, the extremes of creativity that seem to make them crazy and self destructive - but he pointed out that for every overdose or suicide, there are 10 equally talented artists who are still with us, or lived to a ripe old age while remaining vital. I suppose it's the loss as well as the contribution that makes them legend.

So yes, as you raise a glass to Kurt today, remember Marvin too. Those boys are equals in my book.