My family isn’t a very musical bunch. I grew up listening to whatever music my parents listened to. It was mainly Chinese songs from their era. My father would drive and tap the beat of a song he really liked while my mother stared out the car window. So it was strange for them to see me do a class project on Kurt Cobain when I was in Year 5. It was just unnatural.
Cobain was my idol back in ’95 (sad I only found out about him when he was dead). I was introduced to Nirvana in a friend’s garage where his older brother played guitar. Polly was the first song I ever heard.
My mother asked me, “Why this man? Who is he?”
“He’s Kurt Cobain mum! He’s a rockstar!”
“What is a rockstar? Who is he?”
“He’s what I want to be when I grow up. He’s dead now. But he’s cool!”
“No, no, no. Don’t do project on dead person.”
I never became a rockstar or learn how to play an instrument. I wanted to learn the drums first because that’s what Kurt Cobain did (plus, every kid wants to bang on shit and make loud noises) but I wasn’t coordinated enough. Then I went to the guitar – because that’s what Cobain played – and I got pretty good but my then Hip-Hop came into my life.
I never stopped loving Nirvana. Even to this day I’ll defend Nirvana until a fight breaks out. I would even feel guilty if I don’t play a Nirvana song on April 5th.
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A Quiet Man of Heavy Metal.
An Artistic Hand, With An Iron Fist.