1) On the joys of traveling in the United States
To really see America, you need to drive it mile by mile, because you not only begin to grasp the immensity of this beautiful country, you see the climate and geography change with every state line. These are indeed things that cannot be learned from an old schoolbook under the cold classroom lights; they must be seen, heard, and felt in person to be truly appreciated. The education I was getting out here on the road proved to be far more valuable to me than any algebra or biology test I had ever failed, because I was discovering life firsthand, learning social and survival skills I still rely on to this day (e.g., knowing when to speak and when to shut the fuck up).
2) On the joys of traveling in Europe
Traveling Europe’s gorgeous countryside became my favorite pastime, more so than rolling down the long, monotonous superhighways of our American trips, but it came with its own unique set of challenges. As we jumped from country to country, we were faced with a new language every week, and communication was reduced to a primitive version of sign language that bordered on ridiculous miming. That being said, I was learning about languages and cultures I never would have experienced in school, and the physicality of actually being in these places deepened my understanding standing of the world as a community, which is much smaller than most imagine.
3) On the importance of seeing music live
I have waxed poetic about the thrill of human interaction many times before, particularly as it applies to live music, because it rakes us from the one-dimensional virtual experience to the three-dimensional tangible experience, ultimately reassuring us that this life is real and that we are not alone. Even just a chance encounter with a person you’ve grown up listening to, gazing at their album covers for hours on end, learning to play the drums from studying their jagged, tribal grooves, can send the matrix on its side.
4) On the relativity of what constitutes “success”
At the height of Nirvana’s success, I was still living in a tiny room with only a dresser, a night table, and a futon mattress on the floor, as the band became so huge so fast that I didn’t have time to assimilate into this new life of rock stardom. In reality, I felt no desire to go out and take advantage of my expanding bank account because I felt perfectly comfortable with the way things were. I never had much, so I never needed much, and this living arrangement felt perfectly natural. But, beyond anything, it was fun. Sitting around watching MTV while eating Totino’s Party Pizzas together with my friends on a rainy afternoon was my idea of “making it,” so why change anything?
5) On coming to terms with mainstream success
As a little boy, I had discovered rock and roll on the AM radio in my mother’s car, singing along to 1970s Top 40 music, but I was now conflicted about the idea of having a Top 40 hit myself. All of those years being a “punk rocker,” renouncing mainstream music, crying “sellout), to any band that moved even slightly toward mainstream success, had turned my music-loving heart into a confused and callused lump within my cynical chest. I had become jaded and judgmental, often not knowing what was okay to “like” or “dislike” based on the rules of cool culture in the punk scene (yes, there were rules, as fucking ridiculous as that may seem in a scene that championed expressive freedom). Yet, I also rejoiced in the fact that more and more people were showing up to share this music I loved and took so much pride in making and playing. It was an ethical dilemma, one that would prove both inspiring and destructive to the band.
6) On the process of grief
I felt ashamed at times that I could not feel, but eventually I accepted that there is no right or wrong way to grieve. There is no textbook, no manual to refer to when in need of emotional guidance. It is a process that cannot be controlled, and you are hopelessly at the mercy of its grip, so you must surrender to it when it rears its ugly head, no matter the fear. Over the years, I have come to terms with this. To this day I am often overcome with that same profound sadness that sent me to the floor the first time I was told Kurt had died. Is it time that dictates the depth of your grief when losing someone? Is the emotional relevance simply determined by the number of days that you spent together? Those three and a half years that I knew Kurt, a relatively small window of time in the chronology of my life, shaped and in some ways still define who I am today. I will always be “that guy from Nirvana,” and I am proud of it. But without my childhood best friend Jimmy Swanson, I never would have even made it to Seattle, and his passing bored a hole in my life that is entirely different.
7) On the importance of love
I firmly believe that your understanding or “version’ of love is learned by example from day one, and it becomes your divining rod in life, for better or worse. A foundation for all meaningful relationships to stand upon. I surely have my mother to thank for mine. I love my children as I was loved as a child, and I pray that they will do the same when their time comes. Some cycles are meant to be broken. Some are meant to be reinforced.
8) On the importance of being grateful
Not a day goes by where I don’t stop and thank the universe for these otherworldly blessings, and I make it a point to take nothing for granted. It will never feel “normal” to me to be included in such a waking dream; it will always feel like I’m watching life happen from above, looking down at someone else’s fantasy playing out before me. But it is mine, and it’s these moments when I try to be present, reminding myself that I am perhaps the luckiest person on earth to breathe the next breath that will lead me to the next adventure.
9) On the importance of family
Holding court in the far corner of the room with a glass of champagne in her delicate hand was my beautiful wife, Jordyn, the mother of my children, the queen of my world, the weight in my scale that keeps the arm from tipping. Our paths had crossed at a time when I thought I was doomed to live forever in the past, but through her strength and clarity, she showed me a future. Together, we created my life’s greatest achievement, my family. And, as our family grew, my appreciation for life did as well. With each child born, I was born again, and with each step that they took, I retraced my own. Violet, Harper, and Ophelia gave me life in re-turn, and words cannot express my gratitude to them. Fatherhood eclipsed any dream, any wish, any song I had ever written, and as the years went by I discovered the true meaning of love. I no longer just live for myself; I live for them.
READ DAVE GROHL’S THE STORYTELLER
Share This
