It was 30 years ago this month that the death by suicide of the rock musician Kurt Cobain was announced. Aside from the recorded legacy that Cobain bestowed upon us, he is also remembered as a musical artist drawn to the Beats generally but William S. Burroughs most specifically.
US academic and journalist CASEY RAE wrote about the complex but compelling Cobain/Burroughs association in his widely-praised 2019 book William S. Burroughs and the Cult of Rock’n’Roll. Rae was also a fan of singer and band. Here, three decades on, he pays a very personal tribute to the man and his group for Rock and the Beat Generation…
ANYONE IN MY age cohort – smack dab in the middle of Gen X – knows from lived experience the significance of Nirvana. It is hard to overstate the impact the band’s 1991 breakthrough, Nevermind, had on popular music as well as the lives of the young men who wrote and recorded it.
Kurt Cobain on guitar, bassist Krist Novoselic, and drummer Dave Grohl blew the opening bugle for alternative rock while defining its Seattle-centric subgenre, grunge. In a music landscape dominated by hair bands and cookie-cutter dance-pop, Nevermind, released in September 1991, was one of those rare impact objects that are directly responsible for the extinction of an entire species – in this case, hairsprayed and spandexed strutters like Poison, who pranced and pouted their way into the mainstream in the 1980s.
Nevermind was responsible for a massive restructuring of the music business, which had previously bet big on glam metal. Now label execs parachuted into local scenes ready to sign anyone with a goatee and a pawnshop guitar.
This period marked by a seismic shift in musical tastes and attitudes toward mainstream success. Catapulting from the underground scene to international fame, Nevermind’s polished production – at least compared to their raw Sub Pop debut Bleach – reflected the angst and disillusionment of a generation. Now, decades after Cobain's death on April 5th, 1994, his artistic legacy continues to resonate with both those who lived through the grunge era and new listeners discovering his work for the first time.
For many of us who experienced the impact of Nirvana firsthand, Cobain's music was more than affectation; it was an emotional lifeline. His raw, expressive lyrics and the dynamic range of his compositions – from the unbridled fury of ‘Territorial Pissings’ to the damp malaise of ‘Something in the Way’ – offered a glimpse into his wounded psyche. Cobain's ability to channel alienation into anthemic music connected deeply with fans, making his death feel not just like a public tragedy but a personal loss.
My own journey with Cobain's music was further shaped by his personal connection to William S. Burroughs, a central figure in the Beat movement. In writing a chapter about him in my book William S. Burroughs & the Cult of Rock ‘n’ Roll, I explored how Cobain, much like Burroughs, navigated notoriety and championed authenticity in a world of crass commercialization and mundanity. Both artists shared a skepticism of the mainstream and a penchant for searingly introspective work that challenged societal norms.
Living in Washington state, where Cobain's legacy looms large, has only deepened my sense of connection. Somehow, this geographical closeness to Cobain’s roots brings a tangible dimension to my appreciation. The landscapes here, often mirrored in his music's moody tones, serve as a reminder of his influence and personal battles. I hear it in the pines. Nobody is immune from nostalgia, though I’d argue that the way it manifests isn’t always warm and fuzzy – it can be woozy and disorienting, even unwelcome. Yet I still find myself drawn to NIrvana’s music even after these many years, particularly In Utero – the harrowing 1993 follow-up to Nevermind, which repositioned Nirvana as an unpasteurized punk band.
As we commemorate Cobain's passing, it's meaningful to recognize not just the music he made but the cultural conversations he sparked about mental health, artistic integrity, and the burdens of fame. His story is a poignant reminder of the human behind the icon, a man whose vulnerabilities were laid bare in his lyrics, inviting us to listen, reflect, and, above all, feel. In remembering Cobain, we celebrate not only a musician but a father, husband, son, friend, bandmate, and yes, a cultural icon whose work continues to inspire.
Editor’s note: William S. Burroughs and the Cult of Rock’n’Roll was published by University of Texas Press. His forthcoming book for Oxford University Press is tentatively titled Dead Dharma: The Grateful Dead & the American Pursuit of Enlightenment
See also: ‘Book review #21: William S Burroughs and the Cult of Rock’n’Roll’, January 14th, 2024; Biographical Details #3: William S Burroughs And by Casey Ray’, January 9th, 2024