At a recent party, Mike Bruno of Billboard asked me the question: “Have you ever considered that music will never be as important to us as it was when we were younger?” To me, that question was just a hair shy of asking, “Do you think you will die alone?” As Nirvana is inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and we’ve passed the 20th anniversary of Kurt Cobain’s death, I am beginning to realize that no matter how much I like contemporary artists, there will always be something about the music of my youth that I connect with on a deeper level.
This is because, at its core, music is something that validates and enhances whatever we are feeling, and for young people especially, this affirmation is critical. This need for validation is recognized especially in the mental health community. Therapies such as dialectical behavior therapy provide techniques for accepting and understanding one’s experiences in a given personal and social context. The idea is that if we can accept and understand our thoughts and feelings, then we feel less “crazy,” which not only soothes us but helps us determine appropriate problem-solving behaviors.
When we are young, though, our self-concept is still forming, which can lead to us misunderstanding ourselves and being misunderstood by others. In fact, teenagers are at particular risk for having their mental health problems under-diagnosed. Thus, when we are young is when we most need understanding but are often least able to get it. And if there’s someone out there who can validate us at that critical time—well, we are theirs for life.
And so it was for me. I clearly remember the first time I heard “Smells Like Teen Spirit” on the radio and saw Pearl Jam on MTV Unplugged. This new type of music tapped into my angst and validated me, making me feel a bit less alone in the world and, perhaps, a little less weird. Adolescents and young adults are most vulnerable to feeling like “freaks” and outsiders. When Kurt Cobain sang, “I feel stupid and contagious,” he was more elegantly articulating what many Generation X kids were thinking but didn’t know how to say. And when he repeatedly screamed “A denial” at the end of “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” there was a sense that he too was sick of being lost and feeling invalidated and was screaming for all of us.
Now, it could be argued that I love the music from my youth best because I was witness to a golden era of popular music. As I transitioned into young adulthood, “alternative” genres of rock and rap music were in bloom (Nirvana fans, yes, I just said that). Nirvana joined bands such as Jane’s Addiction, Red Hot Chili Peppers and Smashing Pumpkins to bring Lollapaloozian rock music to the mainstream. And rap groups like A Tribe Called Quest, Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dogg (the artist currently known as Snoop Lion) were breaking out of the underground into popular radio and music television. It was a glorious time.
But there have been other glorious times that have produced fantastic music. Plenty of people like the Beatles, and I am one of them. Yet I don’t intuitively feel “Beatlemania” or connect with their music in the same way that I connect with the bands of my own youth. I also don’t connect in the same way with more recent but exceptional artists and their music, such as Kanye West, Jay-Z and Eminem. My connection to their music is different from the one I have to Public Enemy or Boogie Down Productions.
Perhaps it is because adolescence is not just about angst, but about our transition from being helpless to being able to effect change. The artists that best validate us not only understand our pain but provide a path forward – a soundtrack to a personal revolution. Bands like R.E.M. and Nirvana opened my eyes to a new world of “alternative” music. Another 2014 Rock and Roll Hall of Fame inductee, Kiss, opened others’ eyes with their larger-than-life glam rock. But by the time I was an adolescent, the Kiss revolution had already occurred and bands influenced by Kiss were the norm. So Nirvana changed my world in a way that Kiss could not.
I will always enjoy and appreciate artists and bands that evoke feeling in me, whether it be the fun-spirited vibe of Missy Elliot or the sense of doom and despair of Mirel Wagner. But nothing can touch the love I have for the music I grew up with, which validated the things I think and feel and changed my world. That’s why music was so important to me when I was young and the songs we love as young people stick with us into adulthood, while no new song ever resonates with us in quite the same way.
So, I’m not sure if I’ll die alone. But I’m pretty damn sure that even if I do, I’m taking Nirvana and all of the important musicians from my youth with me to the grave.
Photo credit: Malte Wingen on Unsplash
An earlier version of this article originally appeared in Psychology Today on April 8, 2014.
