Mortality is a drag, and gets us all in the end. But you know what’s worse? Immortality. That shit will kill you.The morning of April 8, 1994, I was rudely stirred from sleep by a telephone that would not take a hint. I picked it up and slammed it down without answering at least three times, but whoever was on the other end was not deterred. I did not answer the phone before noon. As a callow, immature, hard-drinking twentysomething, this seemed to me reasonable behavior.
Not two days earlier, I'd been having dinner with then-Sub Pop publicist and good friend Nils Bernstein. Nils and I were discussing the latest Kurt gossip. He'd escaped rehab in Los Angeles and made his way back up to his house in Seattle, where he'd unplugged all the phones. He was refusing to talk to anyone. We shook our heads and shrugged our shoulders and drank our Brandy Alexanders.
"Smells Like Teen Spirit" was not meant to be a hit single. It was meant to set up the second single,"Come As You Are," which everyone thought had real potential as a crossover, mainstream hit. The record company initially shipped only about 45,000 albums to U.S. stores. Whenexploded, he was horrified by the kinds of fans it attracted. All of that is public record, and should you wish, you can read more, at tedious length, in by Chapster McFeels.
After I hung up the phone with Daniel and with Craig, I sat on the couch of my hotel room in a daze. After speaking with Craig, he'd passed me back to Daniel, who had given me a few numbers to call: the police, the medical examiner, etc. I had written them down. A cake showed up from Danny Goldberg, head of Atlantic Records and formerly founder of Gold Mountain Management, who managed Nirvana. The cake was in celebration of Sub Pop's birthday, and had been decorated with caricatures of Poneman and Pavitt in icing. It was a deeply weird moment. Nils told me to go get some beer and bring it back to the office. He also gave me some of his Xanax, for which he had a prescription.
Things got so chaotic that at one point I was asked to watch Frances Bean, alone, for maybe the longest 30 minutes of my life. You do not put a callow, immature, hard-drinking twentysomething in charge of a small child. I watched her play. She didn't die. Everything seems to have turned out okay, but that's the last time I have had anything to do with children.
Entertainment Entertainment Latest News, Entertainment Entertainment Headlines
Similar News:You can also read news stories similar to this one that we have collected from other news sources.
Source: StyleCaster - 🏆 104. / 63 Read more »