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shortly after, i heard the music of Nirvana and my opinion of Cobain changed pretty rapidly. "Polly", "Heart Shaped Box", and some others really stuck with me, even if i didn't understand the lyrics. and i liked how they did a parody of the Beatles on the Ed Sullivan show on the "In Bloom" video, because it was a reference i actually did understand at that age. my brother also bought a live album of theirs i remember listening to called From the Muddy Banks of the Wishkah. and a few years down the line, i also was a Foo Fighters fan around the release of The Colour and the Shape. but there was always a bit of a distance to the whole Nirvana mythology to me. it's not something i could ever completely tap into, unlike with Pearl Jam. it probably didn't help that Kurt was dead, and they were still alive.
as a kid you move through new things pretty quickly. thanks to some exposure from my older brother, i eventually moved past grunge and became more compelled by the musical output of more colorful psych-tinged bands like Ween, The Olivia Tremor Control, The Flaming Lips, Guided By Voices, and so on. those artists seemed to keep expanding their universe of sound out into a bunch of different directions, seemingly without limits, unconcerned with whether or not they were selling loads or becoming the voice of a generation. this turned out to be very important, as the 90's alternative wave had quickly curdled over into something much more bleak and depressing.
and later on in my twenties after starting to transition, more female artists i had previously neglected out of fear of being judged by asshole boys came into my purview and became extremely important. namely Kate Bush, but also 90's alternative-adjacent artists like Björk, Tori Amos, and PJ Harvey. of course Kurt always seemed important as the guy in the mainstream who represented a particular attitude about what music and celebrity should be that i broadly aligned with. but Nirvana (and Pearl Jam for that matter) mostly functioned to navigate me towards artists i inevitably ended up caring more about.
to the almost non-verbal Kurt Cobain stand-in Blake played by Michael Pitt in Gus Van Sant's Last Days, Kim Gordon asks if he's spoken to his daughter, adding: "did you say 'i'm sorry that i'm rock and roll cliche'?" Kim's band Sonic Youth famously helped Nirvana get signed to DGC, and i imagine these are probably words she did say to Kurt at some point (if not wished she could have said) before his suicide. when someone in your orbit is that famous and their life is that messy and it draws that much attention from the outside world, it's hard not to resent them at some level. especially when they have people they're supposed to be caring for. i know i ended up being around one or two people like that in my twenties. to this day, whatever was going on in their life is more interesting to a lot of people on the outside than whatever was happening in the larger artistic space around it. and it makes the whole thing feel like such an absurd farce to think back on sometimes. i imagine that's what someone like Kim Gordon would feel now. it all sorta feels like a ridiculous dream, even when it did actually happen.
in an interview about her father while doing press for the 2015 Kurt Cobain documentary Montage of Heck (one of my favorite rock documentaries), Frances Bean Cobain said: "I was around 15 when I realized he was inescapable. Even if I was in a car and had the radio on, there’s my dad. He’s larger than life and our culture is obsessed with dead musicians. We love to put them on a pedestal. If Kurt had just been another guy who abandoned his family in the most awful way possible . . . But he wasn’t. He inspired people to put him on a pedestal, to become St. Kurt. He became even bigger after he died than he was when he was alive. You don’t think it could have gotten any bigger. But it did."
while she shows a lot of compassion for her father and the impossible situation he was put into in other parts of the interview... no one is probably more acutely aware of the guy's limitations as a human being than his own kid who barely got a chance to know him. reading this interview puts into context that this is the baby from those honestly dreadful scenes towards the end of Montage of Heck where he's holed up in an incredibly claustrophobic bedroom with Courtney Love. this is the baby of his who would grow up to remind you that - in case you forgot - there is a world outside of St. Kurt Cobain, in spite of what many of his fans still think.
Frances added elsewhere in the interview, with a grin: "I don't really like Nirvana that much. I'm more into Mercury Rev, Oasis, Brian Jonestown Massacre. The grunge scene is not what I'm interested in." this might have irked some Nirvana fans in 2015, i don't know, but i remember finding this all very charming when i first read that interview. it only feels appropriate that she's as sick with the whole image of his totemic legacy as he maybe was with himself at the end. i think that's how you know she really is Kurt's daughter. i follow her instagram and she doesn't post very often other than some occasional photos of nature and family. i hope she's doing okay. we're not that far part age-wise.
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| Kurt and Courtney with baby Frances |
i also like (early) Mercury Rev more than i do Nirvana, for the record. "Smells Like Spirit" can't ever top "Holes" in my book. that the latter wasn't a generation-defining anthem matters little to me personally. but Kurt persists as a consequential figure in the culture of today for many reasons. he speaks to the interests of the authentic underdogs in the face of oppressive corporate conformity that grown so much more terrifyingly powerful than anyone in the early 90's could ever conceive of now. his position in the cultural pantheon makes sense. but i do have a lot of antipathy to the figurehead of Kurt Cobain: this spokesperson for a generation of disaffected youth, this savior-like star of rock and roll to vast swathes of young people across the globe, perhaps even more now than when he was alive.
that's not to say i haven't always related to Kurt in a lot of ways. i had an unstable childhood. i had a similar kind of morally righteous edgelord sense of humor. i was withdrawn and had issues with self-esteem mixed with occasional delusions of grandeur. i have that combination of being lazy and very motivated at the same time. i make music and am kind of a control freak about my art. i have chronic stomach problems and frequent violent dreams. i get extremely upset whenever i'm in a situation where i feel humiliated. when Kurt says in Montage of Heck: "i hated everyone, for they were so phony" about his experience of high school, that was me. i was a bit of a little Holden Caulfield-style fuckhead as a teen. tbh we even looked kinda similar as little kids.
but there are some really hard limits there, for me, for several reasons. the biggest being: why would you want to be like a guy who famously blew his brains out? just because he's the famous dead rock star everyone says they love? that might sound cool to a lot of people, but there's not a lot of room for being an autonomous human being there. if you really carried forth everything about who Kurt was and how he lived into your own life, you'd end up in the same place: with your brains spattered on the ground of the gardener's shed. you wouldn't be able to feel what the youth of the world felt about you, and you'd be dead. and it wouldn't even seem tragically romantic, because in reality you're extremely likely to not be the one out of a billion human beings who happened to win the lottery and end up becoming extremely famous and beloved.
but, beyond that: it's also not as if these traits i share with Kurt are that unusual for anyone who has felt different and worked in a creative field to have. i personally don't really ever think i've ever needed to be reminded that i'm an outcast or different from other people. that has been aggressively apparent to me from day one, and has often felt way more like a burden in life than anything positive for me. you may be promised growing up that being different might grant you great rewards later in life, though i and many other people have yet to see most of those. besides, i'm sure there are plenty fellow musicians that Kurt knew from the Pacific Northwest punk scene who came from similar households and backgrounds to his who aren't particularly famous. and many are still out there on this earth walking around and having families, even if that scene has a depressingly high body count.
i guess that's why it's no surprise that the trans community can connect a lot with Kurt. he seemed anxious, overly apologetic, unsure of himself. and, of course he used to wear dresses, and sometimes makeup in public quite a lot (while it was certainly an 'ironic' thing for male rock musicians to do at the time, it seemed to go beyond that with Kurt). Gus Van Sant, a queer filmmaker himself, notably foregrounds the dress wearing in Last Days. i do personally think it's fair to call Seattle probably the most trans city in America, as someone who has spent time there and used to live in the Pacific Northwest. they've been having a sort of crisis of trans refuges fleeing other states to move there recently. so it's very significant that he is a cultural representative that area of the country. and of course we have access to Kurt's journals, so we know quite a bit about how he felt about his gender. but i'm not particularly interested in combing over the minutiae of Kurt's character, or what is and isn't said in those journals. i'll leave that to the superfans.
to a significant portion of the trans community i think by claiming Kurt, perhaps more than anyone else, it represents this idea that we have always been lingering just behind the surface: and that if we were allowed to come out into the light, history might have unfolded differently. laying claim to what has been erased and obfuscated by the mainstream hetero-patriarchy is just part of a long and storied LGBTQ+ tradition. it is important to finally get our due as consequential protagonists at the center stage of culture and not as dehumanized fringe creatures shunted off to the side. this queer experience of alienation has an immense cultural footprint, and it should be treated as such instead of some kind of new perversion of it. but the lack of acknowledgement of that is something i struggle with a lot as a trans artist and i'm sure a lot of others can relate to - feeling ignored, mocked, thrown to the side. treated as a contagion infecting culture, not an undercurrent that was always there. the idea of everyone being finally forced to deal with and acknowledge what one of us did is satisfying.
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| Violet Grohl stands in front of her father and next to Kim Gordon performing "All Apologies" for the FireAid LA Benefit concert in January 2025 |
it also feels reasonable to speculate, because there are plenty other instances of this sort of thing actually being true. is it even possible to have a work of popular media define its era as much as The Matrix did? and who could have anticipated in the year 2000 that The Matrix was made by two trans sisters? not to mention that recently we've been given more fuel to the "Kurt was trans" fire: Dave Grohl was seen promoting an anime called The Guy She Was Interested in Wasn't a Guy At All saying Kurt would have loved it. interesting given Grohl's past AIDS denialism or his friendship with transphobes like Dave Chappelle, but i also find it very hard to believe Dave Grohl doesn't know what he's doing there bringing up Kurt in this context. i think the surviving members of Nirvana are all probably at least aware of the speculation on Kurt's potential transness by now. i also think it's interesting that in the scant Nirvana reunion performances that have happened, Kurt's vocals are mostly sung by women performers like St. Vincent, Joan Jett, Kurt's friend Kim Gordon, or Grohl's daughter Violet. it just feels right, somehow, for those women to be singing in his place - a lot moreso than by guys like Post Malone.
i also think that inside trans community, buying into the Kurt idea gives us a template of something that feels edgier and closer to many of our lived experiences vs. a kind of idealized femininity of so many famous cis woman performers we struggle to get anywhere near close to emulating. it's hard for anyone, especially a trans woman, to perform and sing in the way cis women are expected to. that was a major barrier for me even bothering to try and sing as a trans woman until more recently. but Kurt Cobain is a different story: you can be a mess and still be like Kurt. of course, his style was incredibly unique deceptively hard to really imitate. but you buy into the self destructive rock star trip while also being morally elevated. you can be an underground artsy figure with infinite cred who is also mainstream and at the center of all culture. you can have your cake and eat it too, basically. at least if you ignore the whole blown out brains thing that came at the tail end of all of that.
it's also easy to believe in the idea of someone experiencing gender dysphoria so great that the only alternative they have to alleviate that pain is suicide. perhaps if they lived in a different, more accepting world things would have been different. so many trans people experience the pain of feeling forced into not being themselves particularly to maintain a romantic relationship, or for the sake of their children. i'm going to hazard a guess and say Courtney Love was not exactly the most understanding or empathetic partner there if that issue ever did come up. people can lose access to their kids over things like that. and the idea of being trans would have been a totally inexpressible, socially unacceptable truth to put out there for anyone who wasn't on the absolute fringes of society in Kurt's day. i certainly know it was for me in the late 00's until it very suddenly wasn't (thanks to the magic of the internet), and i was just some teenager.
Kurt's heroin use was of course an obvious surface cause of his worst problems, but it's not like that doesn't go hand in hand with experiencing gender dysphoria. Andy Wood of Mother Love Bone is another conspicuous case of someone big in that scene at that time who was a casualty of heroin and also intensely set off my radar as potentially trans from what i've been able to learn of him. his former roommate Chris Cornell (RIP) said in the Pearl Jam Twenty documentary that Andy really struggled with his identity. his over the top glam rocker persona seems obviously pointing in the direction of a more feminine mode of presentation. when i first saw a picture of him he looked like an out trans woman to me. but Andy Wood died before he ever had a chance to become really famous, so a lot less people have ever bothered to think much about him in this way.
knowing what gender dysphoria is like, i think we all have our own figures from the past that we wonder about. my own musical figure i like to semi-seriously lay claim to as potentially trans is Mark Linkous, aka Sparklehorse. this is not because i have any particularly strong evidence about his internal feelings about his own gender via his journals, or know of an obvious public history of him wearing dresses like with Kurt. he did have a general more feminine mode of presentation in his music and seemingly a lot of antipathy and sense of despair towards how he presented himself. obviously i didn't know him, and many things could have been going on with him to cause his intense depression which led to suicide. but mostly i wanna claim him because i care about his music more than Nirvana on the whole. his lyrics cut extremely deep. "i feel stupid and contagious" isn't on the same level as "the night comes crawling in on all fours, sucking up my dreams through the floor"
it probably sounds totally ridiculous for me to say that about a person i never knew, but i talked to Mark in one of my dreams semi-recently. in the dream, he didn't know he was dead. the whole experience was very emotional. i'm not really sure what to make of something like that end of the day, but perhaps this is the kind of realm you enter into as an artist. Mark was also friends with David Lynch late in life, so he just seems to occupy the universe of the mystical anyway. in the documentary This is Sparklehorse from 2023, Lynch's assistant Dean Hurley talks about them being kindred spirits almost immediately. Lynch later says in the documentary of Linkous "you felt this vulnerability, and not a lot of self-worth feeling" which is totally heartbreaking. but it's easy to relate that back to the descriptions people apply to Kurt, or other popular musical figures who receive this kind of speculative treatment like Elliott Smith.
more than anything, trans women perhaps want to claim Kurt because of the fantasy that transitioning could have saved him. and maybe that is indeed true. but it is sometimes hard for me to swallow when it certainly hasn't saved a lot of people in our community. and in reality, we know what happens to famous trans people who come out: they immediately lose career opportunities and become less visible. maybe that result would have been totally okay for Kurt, i don't know. he (or she) still would have been alive then. but she also probably wouldn't have been the figure that everyone loved to speculate about anymore if that were the case. she'd just be some notorious formerly famous trans woman, a subject of even more intense scandal and lurid speculation.
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| drawing of Kurt's from Montage of Heck (2015) |
but maybe i'm glossing over the main point: that i don't really think it matters that much to me whether Kurt was trans or not, at the end of the day. on the issue of trans rights, i'm pretty sure i know where Kurt would stand. if you read anything of what he said, it's hard to envision him being elsewhere on this issue. whether or not that's the bare minimum of what we should really expect, that's not something you always have the benefit of getting these days! especially when compared to some of his... contemporaries. famous people in this day and age more than ever to seem to have this desire to come out of the woodwork and declare that they don't think we are humans deserving of equal treatment and respect (see: The Proclaimers, for some reason). i'd like to believe that my personal favorite musical artist of all time, Kate Bush, also believes in equality and self-regard for trans women like me. but she's also a wealthy British lady, so i'm not holding my breath there. with Kurt, there is little doubt. and at some level that's good enough for me.
but why is that? maybe it's because artists like Kurt (or Mark Linkous, to a greater extent) have given me a gift that's deeper than the idea that they simply may or may not have been been a closeted trans woman. the kind of underground music ethos that Kurt came out of left a deep imprint on me from a fairly early age. he pointed to a whole world of things beyond him. and the way an artist like that approaches their art already gels with my philosophy of how to approach making art and living my life. of course, i mean, it'd be nice to have old guard guardians of rock music cool i looked up to when i was younger like Kim Gordon cosigning my work, or even reaching the level where they'd notice i exist. but Gordon's band also told us all to "Kill Yr Idols", so i don't necessarily need that validation at this point. i have total confidence that what i make exists in that spirit regardless of if it even remotely resembles any of it, and regardless of what anyone else says or thinks about it. that's because of artists like Kurt, or Mark Linkous helped give me that confidence. others might not agree - but to me that is one of the most meaningful types of connection to have with another person you don't know. more, to me, than simply sharing transness.
all of that being said, i still don't necessarily find all the speculation necessarily harmful. if you put a gun to my head and forced me to make a call on whether or not i think Kurt Cobain was a trans woman, i'd probably lean towards yes. there are just too many signs pointing in that direction for me. but even if he wasn't, maybe he would have at least been amused by the idea of people speculating about him this way. i doubt it would have bothered him given what we do know about him, though obviously no one can know for sure - least of all any of us who never knew him.
in any case, a marginalized community speculating on whether or not you might be secretly part of their ranks might have been a much more heartening thing for him to experience than what actually ended up happening in the immediate aftermath of his death.
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| from Kurt's journals, shown in Montage of Heck |
after becoming suddenly extremely famous, Kurt seemed so wracked with guilt about being catapulted far past the world of anti-establishment, left-coded underground music he considered himself part of. he had jumped way past his heroes like The Pixies and became unwittingly subsumed into a much more mainstream grotesque spectacle. his band's music might have been very good, but no one on this earth is prepared for something like that. cultural memory broadly celebrates "Teen Spirit" as a lightning bolt moment for culture, ushering in a new era. but Montage of Heck treats the sudden burst of Nirvana's fame as an incredibly ominous slow rolling tragedy. it's as if his death was foretold the moment that everything in his life blew up. all the things that were going to heighten and ultimately lead to the demise of an already kind of troubled, unstable young person had been put into place.
and for years after the fixation on Kurt seemed to solidify into an endless of array of guys who primarily seemed to believe that Kurt's one mistake, the thing that doomed him is: he was too apologetic to the women, the underdogs, the music nerds... the people whose good graces he desperately wanted to be in, but could not ever fully be in. not as long as he was one of the most famous people on the planet. the fact that he also seemed totally in thrall to Courtney Love, of all people, must have bothered a lot of people. whether or not you find Courtney Love deeply unpleasant as a person (i do), the Yoko Ono-style treatment she received over the years went beyond the pale. and the endless post-grunge backwash that followed for a decade plus after Kurt died seemed defined by the idea that they should never have to apologize to a woman for anything ever again.
maybe it started as kayfabe from artists who didn't have that intention but who knew their audience might see it that way - the Matchbox 20 song "Push", (featured memorably in the Barbie Movie more recently), was not supposed to be about a man gleefully abusing a woman, but that narrative certainly seemed to proliferate out there in the ether, perhaps as a way to market the song and make it seem more dangerous to an audience of angry young men. later on, i guess you could make the argument that even the over the top clownish misogyny of Fred Durst screaming at Thora Birch tied up in a chair at least featured some kind of element of self-loathing on Durst's part in there, though we're really far from anything remotely interested in respecting the humanity or self-autonomy of women at this point. but by the time we got to stuff like "Crazy Bitch" by Buckcherry it was just pure misogyny without any trace of irony or self-loathing. that dream had finally been realized for that particular kind of guy, and there was nowhere else to go. the transition from disaffected outsider teen to ICE officer with a Punisher tattoo had been completed. the music was also mind-searingly horrible at that point, but that goes without saying.
there also is a fixation on Kurt because he represents an archetype who could seemingly never happen in the music industry of today: a breakthrough figure channeling the rage and alienation of the unheard and totally redefining the cultural space around him. the whims of algorithmic platforms and the financialization of the music industry seem almost deliberately designed to prevent new figures like Kurt from emerging. but a dead rock star is always license to print money for whoever has a financial stake in the back catalogue, so there's no need to hope for anything new to emerge. you always have a surefire way to safely sell people's discontent and unrest back to them by pushing the beloved dead star button, something the music industry has collectively been doing it for a long time. 2024's toothless Bob Dylan biopic A Complete Unknown seemed to channel this undercurrent also - wouldn't it be great if we had another type of guy like that who was maybe kinda weird but made that kind of massive impact on the broader culture with his art? too bad that's not really possible anymore. oh well: you could always watch this new music biopic your friends and family will all go to see.
a week ago, the MTV VMAs brought up the surviving members of Nirvana on stage to present the "Video Vanguard" award to Nirvana/Kurt Cobain. this presentation felt very odd for a number of reasons, chiefly this is an award that seems to almost always given to artists who are alive. Krist Novoselic is the one person who spoke on behalf of Kurt and he said some fairly template words about Kurt believing in authenticity in music and that people should "come as you are" - perhaps a veiled wink to the LGBTQ community? or maybe not, considering Krist's pretty committed to his goofy centrism these days and he praised Trump in 2020. later on, upon the somewhat abrupt ending of the awards, lazily hosted by Snopp Dogg by the way (another 90's holdover who will never go away), the broadcast faded awkwardly out on "Smells Like Teen Spirit". it's almost as if it's saying to all of us: remember when this was a big deal? and we at MTV were at the height of cultural relevance? maybe it's a new low for those still watching and want to see something, anything, actually new... some kind of a pulse from this cultural landscape. it sucks to see all this nostalgia baiting thrown so shamelessly out in your face these days, even as a Nirvana fan. but isn't that just par for the course these days? another exercise in irrelevance and empty nostalgia as the rich and powerful plunder the world and destroy our ability to register our discontent about it in any way that seems to matter?
the way this current decade has unfolded has really exposed so many of the the truly toxic and regressive elements of 90's nostalgia i hadn't even considered before. i was one of those teenagers who became immediately nostalgic for the 90's by the time September 11th hit. the alt rock boom opened me up to a lot of stuff from a very young age, and nothing in the mainstream ever really hit me in the same way ever again. the era was a defining time for many other things nerds around my age hold dearly: hip-hop, video games, cartoons, electronic music, and so on. but Gen X figures like Chuck Klosterman who lived through the 90's seem to only have the vaguest ability to articulate what that decade was actually about in any meaningful way. why is there seemingly so little clarity about an era that everyone seems to now love and claim to want to go back to? and isn't it gross how the spirit of this music primarily seems pushed as a way to use older legacy artists as a cudgel against newer generations (while completely ignoring any and everything that isn't part of the mainstream from those generations)? it's always the teenager's fault that everything has gotten worse, somehow. don't look at any larger material or social reasons why that might be the case.
yesterday i watched the documentary The History of Concrete, directed by John Wilson of How To With John Wilson fame. in it, he mentions how profiles of famous musicians are told to him to be the most surefire way to get his documentary picked up by distributors. he zooms over several big name music docs on the HBO Max front page: Montage of Heck is one of them. eventually he decides to film local DIY shows in NYC, and follows the guitarist for a not particularly successful rock band who works at a liquor store. the result is very memorable, and touching. this is the exact sort of decision that makes the documentary infinitely more interesting to watch as cinema, but much harder to sell to a distributor.
i am also a lover of music documentaries - particularly warts and all, fly on the wall ones like Dig! or Some Kind of Monster. but so many of the high profile music documentaries now are mostly not artistic attempts to get inside the world of these impactful artists, but long, arduous puff pieces with the active cooperation of big name artists like Billy Joel or Jay-Z. they exist as ways to reaffirm their greatness and importance. never mind that you might have heard these stories a million times already, and whatever's happening in the local DIY scene might make for infinitely more compelling cinema.
and that's why i think this practice is totally craven. i long for an actually critical documentary: perhaps like Ezra Edelman's shelved 9-hour Netflix Prince documentary that is apparently a masterpiece but might not ever see the light of day. Montage of Heck is a great documentary in my book, because i'm sure the alternative is exactly the sort of thing Cobain would have despised. but it doesn't need to be about a big artist either. i'd rather it not be in some ways. because even in it's best and most finely presented form, Nirvana is nonetheless central to and inextricable from the 90's RETVRN nostalgia efforts. lest we forget the Alternative Nation the band unwittingly spawned represented a cynical corporate co-optation of underground music in the first place. if anything, it just gave cover to Clinton fucking up our cultural landscape in the US by signing the Telecommunications Act of 1996 and allowing the era of corporate mega-consolidation to enter into overdrive.
but, look: i don't mind that a lot of trans people identify with Kurt - he's an important impactful artist who spoke to the underdog and had a huge reach. arty types from troubled backgrounds like me who want to make a meaningful impact with our work will always look to him or identify with him in various ways. he's also a famous person who seemed deeply troubled by their fame and its implications in a way that feels very human and understandable, if seemingly rare in the space of mainstream celebrity. there is also a lot of fairly convincing evidence there was something pretty substantial happening there with his gender. and to claim him would also immediately connect him up in continuity with a lot of underground trans artists of today making work influenced by Nirvana (whether takes the form of rock and roll music or not), and perhaps make people more broadly aware of what goes on in our community as a whole.
but Kurt also pointed away from himself a lot: to a whole world out there of other kinds of music that was never going to as big as Nirvana. many people seemed to miss this step over the years. Kurt told you to listen to Daniel Johnston, and Meat Puppets II, and The Pixies' Surfer Rosa, and the first album by The Raincoats. so maybe you should listen to him. because i can't help but think the fixation on Kurt reflects an immense lack of imagination! and ultimately primarily serves the regressive impulses of 90's nostalgia culture. when there is no larger coherent cultural space or real sense of values to call your own, there is only the individual, elevated above every one else. the individual you think you know but you will never know. St. Kurt is long dead, 30+ years in the past. he has been made to represent something that may or may not have anything to do with him. and lest we forget: it doesn't seem like at any point that it was particularly fun or pleasurable to be Kurt Cobain. so why be like him? aren't we all tired of trying to be a rock and roll cliche?
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