Today I was at the Metropolitan avenue train station waiting for the G train and there was an old banjo player singing in a hoarse voice. When he stopped he asked if anyone had any requests, but as impossible as it might seem for a subway station at peak hour, everyone was quiet. Then he said:"Thanks for your harmless indifference. It proves you've adjusted to New York City," and then he kept playing.
Yesterday I was listening to Nirvana after many years of having those records in the case. I've also been reading a book about Kurt Cobain by Charles R. Cross that's like a scrapbook. It has journal pages and Cobain´s pop-culture collection. It even has a polaroid picture of him in his Olympia apartment. A great collection of Cobain's stuff that shows him also like a graphic artist and collector. Anyway, I remember I used to love Nirvana because when I was 13 I could drain all my anger through their music, and somehow, in my imagination, I remebered Kurt's voice louder and stronger than what it really is. Yesterday when I was listening to Bleach, In Utero, and Nevermind, I understood that his voice was weak, it sometimes even sounds like an adolescent, but his characher is so firm and strong, and he believed so strongly in his art that the music somehow turned into a secondary cast member in the means of delivering his thoughts. The energy and the meaning of the songs, and the merge of Cobain's music with Dave Grohol's and Novoselic's playing, reminded me that music is life. The song that really took me back to my 13 year old anger relief was Heart Shaped Box so enjoy the video, which also came straight out from Cobain's imagination