Something is burning.
It's my stomach as it listens to his music, his voice, his screams.
The sound it produces envelops me and makes me feel safe because all that fire, on that stage, is so desperately bright and furiously vital... So true, that I can touch it and warm myself.
All that visceral passion makes me reborn every time: it speaks to me of lived life and life to be lived and extends a hand to me while I'm sinking.
Nirvana..
Nirvana..
Nirvana..
Nirvana..
Often I have stopped to listen to the sound of this word, often I have stopped to cry listening to the songs of Kurt Donald Cobain: his music has always pushed me to confront myself, my fears, and my life, helping me. A lot. An enormous amount. And making me react. Always.
The "Unplugged in New York" is THE acoustic live of Nirvana.
This "Live at Reading" is THE electric live of Nirvana, because, in an opposite and complementary way to the Unplugged, it contains the essence of Nirvana.
Immense, violent, sweet, dark, bright, damnably earthly, profoundly spiritual, beautiful, shocking.
I put on the record, gather my soul full of light and darkness like this concert, and lie down on the floor to gaze at a white ceiling that had never seemed so beautiful to me.
Sometimes this is enough for me to understand how precious life is.