It was about 10 years ago to the minute when it was announced that Cobain was dead. Like him or not, relate to it or not, it was a huge deal. That day was like the 9/11 of Gen X rock. MTV played nothing but Nirvana for days. Radio stations did the same. I did the same. I was dating go-go Trish at the time. She called to cheer me up, asking in her broken English, Brazillian accent if I wanted to go roller blading from Long Branch to Sandy Hook. I should have said yes, but I stayed home and mourned. That night I went to see the Afghan Whigs, Nirvana's old SubPop labelmates, at City Gardens in Trenton and lost the hearing in my right ear for a week.
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