Well, now I’m obsessed. To be totally objective, I was hovering on the obsession line for a while. I love Nirvana, and Kurt Cobain specifically, so when I picked up Heavier Than Heaven, I thought I’d just get a better understanding of the subject.
Not so easy. This book reads like a novel. It sucks you in, chomps down on your guts with shark jaws, shakes you around, and then suddenly releases you into the calm black depths of total obsession.
This portrait of Kurt Cobain is not objective and does not seem to be attempting to be objective. But I found the point of view agreeable; it seemed to reinforce my idea of Cobain’s internal workings. There were one or two parts where I could practically hear Courtney Love screaming her editorial suggestions in the background. These parts were just slightly too favorable to her. For instance, when Courtney Love told Vogue that she did heroin while she was pregnant. When Frances was born, she was taken away from her parents for several long weeks. There is a quote about the anti-drug culture that cracked me up because it was so absurd: that there was a “mistaken impression” that one could not be a heroin addict and a good parent. No, sorry, Courtney, it isn’t a mistaken impression. If you’re doing heroin while pregnant, you’re by definition not a fit parent.
In any case, I was very happy when they got Frances back; the love both parents had for the child was evident. The loving commitment and the perfect fit between Kurt and Courtney also surprised me – in many ways they reminded me of Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes because they borrowed each other’s lines, sang each other’s songs, and seemed to be deeply compatible. The artistic symbiotic relationship was the hallmark of the Plath-Hughes union. It was a pleasure to read about another similar relationship.
The author takes a few liberties at the very last of the book; he could not possibly know Cobain’s tortured thoughts while he pondered while shooting up and then holding the gun to his mouth. But man, when he did pull the trigger, the words on the page scorched me to the bone, and I wept. I wept for the sweet boy Cobain was, the brilliant artist, the husband and father. I wept because it was a shame to lose it all.
And I wept because, like Plath, I believe that it was inevitable. A date with destiny.
This was a moving, illuminating book. Anyone who loves stories about complex, complicated artists will appreciate it. Those who already like Cobain will be seduced — then obsessed.
I loved this book, too. I loved the description of the music scene back before MTV got wind of it … the crazy DIY shows, and the macho competition between bands and songwriters, and the groupies, all in flannel and Doc Martens. Cobain was a genius (his lyrics to Smells Like Teen Spirit) still have the potential to make the hair on the back of my neck rise up … and he is still missed. I am very glad that Dave Grohl has found such an important life after Nirvana and I wonder what would have happened if Cobain had lived. I think, too, the bond between Courtney and Cobain was real – he was quite a romantic – always looking for “that mate”.
I was struck by a comment his mother made in the wake of his suicide – that she had always known it would probably come to that. She had made her peace with the fact that her son would probably take his own life long before. It’s awful.
In many ways, he just was not suited for fame. It was too much. People always bitch about celebs “whining” about fame – but I remember hearing Harrison Ford say something once like, “Nothing can prepare you – nothing – for the total lack of privacy that comes with fame, and it took me years to get a handle on it.”
Such a loss. I still miss Cobain, that bastard.
Dave Grohl has done some great things and I am so glad of that. I youtubed some clips of Grohl on various talk shows and whatnot; he’s funny. (He does a duet of Leather and Lace with Will Farrell that you have got to see!) He’s also madly talented. Drums, bass, guitar, singing… he’s amazing (I loved seeing him sing back up on Come As You Are on MTV Unplugged).
Cobain was the same way – he played drums (find the clip of him on drums and singing “Seasons In The Sun”) , he played guitar and he sang. THAT TALENT! I love his voice. Even now, I listen to his stuff, marveling at that soft, hurt voice.
I love the Plath-Hughes/Cobain-Love type of collaboration. That thrills me to no end. I found the only duet between Cobain and Love (Pennyroyal Tea) and it’s funny because that song could have just as easily been created for her. It was like they were almost interchangeable in some ways; the relationship was so close.
I also love seeing Cobain perform. There’s something so passive/aggressive about the way he steps forward and back, and screams into the microphone… Something beautiful about him too. His face was angelic. Absolutely beautiful face.
I listen to Cobain every time I run. It never gets old. I miss him even now.