It's been many years since I've felt the excitement of listening to or making music, or reading or writing poetry. It's hard to put into words how ashamed I am of this.
For more than a year, the frontman of the sensational grunge band Nirvana, Kurt Cobain, was in a depressed state, suicidal thoughts visited him more and more often, and his heroin addiction became more and more painful. In his conversations with his family, there were hints about his imminent death. Three days before his death, he called his wife:
-Courtney, I want you to know that you wrote a good album. No matter what happens, don't think about it.
- When you say that, I feel uneasy. I'm afraid you'll file for divorce or kill yourself.
-It doesn’t matter, I love you...
On April 5, 1994, Kurt Cobain returned to his home in Seattle on Lake Washigton. He took a mixture of heroin and Valium. Vague images floated through his clouded mind. Cobain remembered that he wanted to write a note, the world should know the most important thing about him. The red pen drew uneven, childishly naive squiggles on the sheet. It seemed to him that it was not the ink that was spreading on the paper, but his blood from a tormented heart that had long been indifferent to life.
How difficult it is to kill yourself. Something else needs to be done, we need to stall for time somehow. There was a flower pot on the windowsill, Kurt knocked it over and with an indifferent movement began to smear the soil over the surface. Obsessive thoughts about death forced his hands to build a grave mound. Soon the same one, but a little larger, will flaunt above his body. But he doesn't care. It doesn't matter anymore.
It's time to end this. The note should be in a visible place. Kurt placed it on the windowsill and placed a flower pot on top so that a gust of wind wouldn't accidentally carry away his last words. Cobain took the gun and, ironically remembering a recent photo shoot in Rome, pointed the barrel at his mouth. Pulling the trigger was easier than it seemed. His head was blown off by the shot. The body collapsed limply to the floor.
After 4 days, his body will be discovered by an electrician. When the body is identified, newspapers will publish dozens of mournful articles, fans around the world will be heartbroken, one of them will even commit suicide. Cobain's body will be cremated. His little daughter Frances will cry, his wife will read out touching excerpts from his suicide note in public. Afterwards, independent detectives will make a fuss, trying to refute the official conclusion and accuse Courtney Love of murdering her husband... But Kurt himself will no longer care. It doesn't matter at all.
Childhood and youth
2-year-old Kurt Cobain.
School years.
Kurt in 8th grade
The first studio is your own room. Kurt spent many hours honing his skills.
1985 is the year Nirvana was founded. The first serious problems with the law.
In 1989, the group released their debut album, Bleach.
1991 - the release of the album “Nevermind”, where you could find the most famous song of the group “Smells like teen spirit”.
Kurt Cobain and Dave Grohl became youth idols in the early 90s.
First nomination at the MTV Video Music Awards in 1992.
Kurt Cobain and Courtney Love
Photographer Michael Levin
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Wedding photo of Kurt Cobain and Courtney Love in Hawaii.
Birth of a daughter named Frances Bean Cobain.
Rio de Janeiro. 1993 Kurt begins to get tired of annoying journalists.
Modest Kurt Cobain tries to hide from camera lenses. He's on the edge.
1993 With family at the MTV Awards.
1992
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Kurt Cobain's suicide note
Kurt Cobain's suicide note
Kurt Cobain's suicide note in English
To Boddah
Speaking from the tongue of an experienced simpletion who obviously would rather be an emascluated, infantile complain-ee. This note should be pretty easy to understand. All the warnings from the punk rock 101 courses over the years, since my first introduction to the, shall we say, ethics involved with independence and the embracement of your community has proven to be very true. I haven't felt the excitement of listening to as well as creating music along with reading and writing for too many years now. I feel guilty beyond words about these things. For example when we're backstage and the lights go out and the manic roar of the crowd begins, it doesn't affect me the way in which it did for Freddy Mercury, who seemed to love, relish in the love and adoration from the crowd, which is something I totally admire and envy. The fact is, I can't fool you, any one of you. It simply isn't fair to you or me. The worst crime I can think of would be to rip people off by faking it and pretending as if I'm having 100% fun. Sometimes I feel as if I should have a punch-in time clock before I walk out on stage. I've tried everything within my power to appreciate it (and I do, God believeme I do, but it's not enough). I appreciate the fact that I and we have affected and entertained a lot of people. I must be one of those narcissists who only appreciate things when they're gone. I'm too sensitive. I need to be slightly numb in order to regain the enthusiasm I once had as a child. On our last 3 tours, I've had a much better appreciation for all the people I've known personally and as fans of our music, but I still can't get over the frustration, the guilt and empathy I have for everyone. There's good in all of us and I think I simply love people too much, so much that it makes me feel too fucking sad. The sad little sensitive, unappreciative, Pisces, Jesus man. Why don't you just enjoy it? I don't know! I have a goddess of a wife who sweats ambition and empathy and a daughter who reminds me too much of what I used to be, full of love and joy, kissing every person she meets because everyone is good and will do her no harm. And that terrifies me to the point where I can barely function. I can't stand the thought of Frances becoming the miserable, self-destructive, death rocker that I've become. I have it good, very good, and I'm grateful, but since the age of seven, I've become hateful towards all humans in general. Only because it seems so easy for people to get along and have empathy. Only because I love and feel sorry for people too much I guess. Thank you all from the pit of my burning, nauseous stomach for your letters and concern during the past years. I'm too much of an erratic, moody, baby! I don't have the passion anymore, and so remember, it's better to burn out then to fade away.
Peace, Love, Empathy
Kurt Cobain
Frances and Courtney, I'll be at your altar.
Please keep going Courtney, for Frances.
For her life, which will be so much happier without me.
I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU!
Note in Russian
I speak in the language of an experienced simpleton who would rather be castrated by an infantile whiner. This note should be easy to understand. All the warnings of punk rock courses over the years, since my introduction to the so-called ethics that require independent acceptance of your community, have turned out to be true. I haven't felt the excitement of listening to and creating music and reading books for a long time now. These words make me feel guilty. For example, when we're standing backstage and the lights come on and the crowd is booming, it doesn't evoke the same emotion in me as it does in Freddie Murcuri. He takes great pleasure in the adoration of the crowd, it makes me admire and envy. Actually, I can't deceive you. It just wouldn't be fair to you or me. The worst crime, in my opinion, is fooling people by pretending to have maximum fun. Sometimes I feel like I have to break the clock when I go on stage. I did everything in my power to figure out my problem (but, God knows, this is not enough). I appreciate that our group's work touched the feelings of many people. I must be one of those “narcissists” who can only appreciate things when they are no longer there. I'm too sensitive. I need to freeze my feelings a little to regain the enthusiasm I had as a child. During our last three tours, I began to appreciate my friends and fans of the band much more. But I can’t help feeling that I only evoke disappointment, awkwardness and sympathy in these people. There's good in all of us, and I think I just love people too much. So much so that it is precisely because of this that this damn sadness overcomes me. Sad, small, sensitive, valueless Pisces man (Kurt's zodiac sign - editor's note). My God! Why doesn't this suit you? I don't know! I have a goddess wife who is full of ambition and compassion, and a daughter who is so much like the person I was. Loving and cheerful, greeting every person she sees because everything is good and does not harm her. And it terrifies me to such an extent that I can hardly contain myself. I can't stand the thought of Francis becoming the same miserable, self-destructive rocker that I have become. I'm doing well, very well, and I'm grateful, but from the age of seven I began to hate all people. Only because it seems so easy for them to live and feel compassion. Compassion! Only because I love and pity people too much do I get something in return. I thank you all from the depths of my burning, writhing stomach, for your letters and support in recent years. I'm too weird, a gloomy child! I no longer have passion and therefore, remember, it is better to burn out than to dissolve.
Peace, love, compassion.
Kurt Cobain. Frances and Courtney, I will be at your altar. Please move on, Courtney, for Frances' sake, for her life's sake, which will be much happier without me.
I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU
Cobain and Nirvana
1993 is the release date of the album “In utero” and the beginning of the fight against heroin addiction.
This was the peak of the band’s and musician’s popularity, but it did not bring personal happiness. Kurt wanted to put an end to the fame that had washed over him and live a quiet, peaceful life with his family.
Photo taken a month before Cobain's death.
On April 8, 1994, Kurt was found dead in his own home. The official version is suicide. Shot in the head from a gun.
Despite the forensic verdict, many suspected the musician’s wife. But after repeated study and double-checking of the facts, the fact of suicide was confirmed. Photo from the scene of Kurt Cobain's suicide.
Shooting for Mademoiselle Magazine
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First contract
Cobain's team recorded good things. But these were amateur recordings. The musicians were lucky that their creations reached the ears of producer Jack Endido, who worked on the Sub Pop label. He was impressed by the material and invited the group to sign a contract as a team.
Soon the album Bleech was recorded. In this work, Kurt Cobain's guitar was the same Univox Hi-Flyers. He added:
- original sensors;
- “Distortion” lotion, Boss DS-1;
- 70-watt Celestion speakers were also used.
Death of Kurt Cobain - photo from the suicide scene
Kurt joins the list of talented musicians who did not survive the age of 27.
Last year the musician would have turned 51 years old. One of the few artists who was able to earn more after death than during life.
