Commercials are the new MTV, and purists like myself are regretfully preparing for “The Big One”. Still recovering from the deafening blow of Janes Addiction’s music becoming the newest jingles for Bush Beer, I was convinced that it couldn’t get much worse. After hearing less prominent and underground bands like The Flaming Lips, Ween, and Modest Mouse jump on the commercial bandwagon, I should have known the worst was yet to come. I fear that my exaggerated prediction made a few years back in my college newspaper may be on the verge of coming true.
She sold the rights to his soul for a cool $50 million. Tucked away in Hollywood Hills basking in the success of others, the keeper of the Grail of Grunge finally caved and named her price. Nothing is sacred as I hold my breath and brace myself for the hardest slap in the face I will ever receive. Nirvana is up for grabs and waiting on the highest bidder. My ears will bleed the day I hear Kurt Cobain’s echoing scream used to sell an SUV. This truly is the beginning of the end. I want out before I’m infected.
They’ll never know what it meant to us. Beautifully raw, a job well done, maybe we were crazy to think we belonged.