Reflections on a dead bloke
Isn’t amazing how the imminent anniversary of rock star’s death can re-ignite a past love for his music (and boost sales to boot)? Up to about two months ago I hadn’t listened to Nirvana for maybe a couple of years (oh, bar buying the compilation for the new song) but now I’m Nirvana mad again, having yesterday bought the singles box set (for those all important 6 new tracks that I didn’t have elsewhere) and finally succumbed to buying the five volume Outcesticide bootleg series on ebay. Not the originals, CD-Rs, on the basis I’ll never listen to the things anyway. I have unfortunately had to postpone the 10th anniversary party I’d planned with my mate John as we are finally moving flat on 2nd April (party was in for the 3rd, being the nearest Saturday to the generally accepted date of his death). This is having effects on me outside of strictly Nirvana too, he says, realising that there is a reason for him currently listening to Foo Fighters.
So, yes, flat – in a few weeks I will finally own some bricks and mortar (or at least the mortgage company will). I am already dreaming of where I’m going to put the speakers and my recently retrieved vinyl collection. And leaving everything else to Kathryn to sort out.
Then we just have the wedding to organise. Once that’s out the way, he says romantically, I’ll need to think of a new goal to strive for. Or just muddle along until I die. Which is to be? And who is to say what will intervene? As Kurt said in an interview that’s recently surfaced; "It might be nice to start playing acoustic guitar and be thought of as a singer and a songwriter, rather than a grunge rocker because then I might be able to take advantage of that when I’m older. I could sit down on a chair and play acoustic guitar like Johnny Cash or something, and it won’t be a big joke."
SOB! That didn’t happen did it? I still remember that Saturday morning in Bristol when I woke up to my clock radio playing radio 1 and a tune of the time that was a lot like, but wasn't, Here Comes the Hotstepper thingy, and then the song finishing and the DJ saying simply "Kurt Cobain is dead" and me burying my head in the pillow to shed my one and only hero-related tear.
Anyway, enough morbidity; I will save that for the inevitable drunken solitary play-through of all their albums in a tearful tribute. Black Books tonight – I wonder how (in a good way) such a show makes a third series, on the basis that it’s hardly Only Fools and Horses, but then you see people travelling from all corners of the web to post on this (admittedly wonderful) site and you realise the ground swell of popularity it has. I’m soooo looking forward to the DVD as my memory of series two is hazy (except Manny inside the piano – comic genius) and I’ve worn out the etching of my series one DVD. By the way, I’ve watched last week’s episode THREE TIMES now - beat that!
While we’re on eth subject, let’s get our pens to diary pages for Shaun of the Dead, which was filmed (partly) on my doorstep on Crouch End reservoir (where I’ve spent a fantastic very done-in night looking across to an illuminated London town, but that’s another story).
And while we’re on the subject of zombie flicks, let’s also remember that the remake of Dawn of the Dead is nearly upon us. It is bound to be rubbish but the trailer is ace!