I watch this vid every now and again. I return to it because it makes me feel alive in a way most other horseshit doesn’t. And while the vid features the surviving members of Nirvana, that doesn’t mean much to me. The focus here is Kim Fucking Gordon.
Whenever I try to sit down and write something, I feel there is no way to accomplish or say what I want to say with mere words. I rely on magic and hope for forgiveness from the audience. I’m pointing towards something. A strange brutal ceremony perhaps. Something like Kim Gordon just letting it all out in a hideous beautiful way that exceeds the sum of its obvious parts. I want to fuck the loss of our tedious frightened minds. I wanna get into it, like a wild animal sacrifice that’s the intricate flowering godhead. I want to turn our bullshit into something jarring and transcendent. A feast of death and rebirth and a life finally lived.
I used to have a serious obsession with John Coltrane. Before I’d joined the Army my best friend gave me a cassette tape with Giant Steps on one side and A Love Supreme on the other. I had an old tape player that had auto reverse, so it played the tape constantly in an endless loop for 3 months straight until one-day the tape finally broke. I needed that music like oxygen. There was something in it that saw me through a darkness.
Several years later, a Best Buy opened up in town. They had all these great rereleased John Coltrane CDs. I bought a new one every week and listened to em like a monk studying holy texts. I drew pictures of Coltrane and ordered the only 3 books in print about his life. Eventually, I owned over 20 CD’s.
John Coltrane died of liver failure. He’d destroyed his liver when he’d been a heroin addict when he was younger. The album a Love Supreme is the record he made after he kicked heroin cold turkey. Some say the Coltrane died from exhaustion. He played from sun up till sun down every day and made 10 records alone in 1965. After making some of the greatest jazz music ever Coltrane got more and more avant-garde until most of his band quit. He started playing with young experimental guys and a lot of the music sounds like screaming and wave after wave of noise all colliding. Some people hate it, but I just couldn’t get enough.
When Coltrane died in ‘67 the young guys Coltrane had taken under his wing played the music at his funeral. They said one of the young guys took the horn out of his mouth and screamed while he played. I guess I can’t think of anything better to say to dearly departed friend than that. The unabashed tore open love of being fucking real.