I remember when I first discovered Nirvana. I was about 11 years old, and while my buddies at school were fawning over the poppy ballads of Boyz II Men and Take That, my friend Kelly and I had slightly different heroes. At the top of the idol chain sat her sister Shay. 16, grungy as hell – pale skin, black hair, black nails and bedecked in destroyed lace, satin slips and Doc Martens – Shay had an angsty album collection that opened our eyes and ears to a new type of music. It was branded ‘alternative’ and it defined an era and a musical genre that became most commonly known as ‘grunge.’
As 11 year olds in the early 90’s, Kelly and I willingly (desperately) became Shay’s disciples, eager to learn all we could about this “real” music, as she called it, even if the messages of these tortured artists were beyond us at the time. It was raw, powerful, deep, heart-wrenchingly anguished stuff. Pretty heavy for a bunch of youngsters but we didn’t care. Shay was cool and whatever she loved, we loved.
I remember her music collection read like the penultimate grunge discography – Alice in Chains, Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Smashing Pumpkins, Soundgarden, Mudhoney, The Pixies, and Hole were all in there. There was nary a saccharine pop princess in sight, and as a direct contrast to the Kylie Minogue’s of the world claiming their spots on mainstream charts, I remember Shay and her best friend spending their days in her room belting out Hole’s Violet at a gazillion decibels, electric guitars screaming in the background. There were declarations of love shared equally between Eddie Vedder and Chris Cornell, big dreams of grunge stardom and prospective band names written all over CD’s in Liquid Paper. That sludgy Seattle sub-culture was alive and kickin’ on Australia’s Gold Coast, that’s for sure.
And then Kurt Cobain killed himself.
I remember that day really clearly. Shay was inconsolable for a week. Kurt was the Godfather of Grunge at the time – grunge’s insecure, apathetic poster boy – and the shock of his death was felt the world over.
So that’s where my fascination with the Nirvana story began, way back then with Kelly and Shay, and although my music taste is as broad and diverse as can be these days, when I saw that brilliant photographer Hedi Slimane had taken portraits of Courtney and Kurt’s almost 19 year old daughter, Frances Bean Cobain recently, I wanted to share them.
Not discounting the fact that the photography itself is unreal, these shots of budding artist Frances Bean are hauntingly beautiful. It’s like features of each parent have been taken to construct a person that looks as much like one as she does the other. There’s a wise, old soul behind those big eyes – this girl has had one hell of a life, after all. The tattoo on her back says it all: “L’art est la Solution du Chaos” (art is the solution to chaos).
Images sourced from Hedi Slimane‘s site. Check out Slimane’s shots of Courtney Love here and here (NSFW).
+ To get in the spirit of things (Smells Like Teen Spirit? Haha!) I listened to Nirvana as I wrote this post. Oh, the memories! Heart Shaped-Box is still one of those songs that “gets me” every time. RIP Kurt.
+ Confession time: were you ever into ‘grunge’ growing up? Or if not, what other types of music did you listen to? We’ve all been through “phases” – what were yours? I’d love to hear in the comments!
Wow, she looks amazing!! She has really grown into herself.
You and I have some strange telepathy going on, I’ve busted out the ol’ grunge collection and am loving Nirvana again..especially ‘You know you’re all right’…
Haha, we must have! Reminds me of our old singalongs :) xx
I have a really similar story… When I was around 13 my music collection consisted of mainly pop icons and 90s RnB – think Mariah Carey and TLC – and on a family trip to the South Australian countryside everything changed. We were staying with my mum’s oldest and dearest friend and her family, and their eldest son had recently joined the army. I wad given his room to sleep in, and next to his bed sat his CD collection: Nevermind, Superunknown, Sixteen Stone, The Bends…
One night I stayed up well into the wee hours on a voyage of discovery, putting together the mix tape that truly changed my life. The music I heard that night was angry, dark, complicated and spectacularly beautiful all at once. And woah…were the men sexy.
I’ve been working in record stores now for 8 years. Music led me to my beautiful man, who worked for a record company here in Melbourne, which in turn led me to move to this vibrantly musical city. As my photography business grows, and my need for retail work lessens, I know that I won’t be ready to completely leave my day job behind any time soon. My days in the store consist of meticulously cleaning vintage vinyl from around the world, whilst having endless discussions with customers (record collectors are some of the worlds most weird and wonderful characters) about their own musical journeys.
P.S (I lost track!) those photos are stunning, what a gorgeous girl she is :)
Lucy, I LOVE this comment! I totally know what you mean… and to this day, I still find myself leaning towards songs that to me feel ‘deep’ or have ‘meaning.’ I’m fascinated by biographies of musicians that have lead wild and crazy lives as well.
I love how music has enriched every part of your life and how it connected you with your man as well… beautiful! Thanks so much for taking the time to leave this comment. And by the way, your Xmas in July photos are epic! xx