If someone were to ask me on March 24 which celebrity death had the most impact on my life, I would have quickly answered Kurt Cobain without missing a beat.
I am a product of the ‘90s, around for the birth and revolution of grunge music. I am a Gen Xer through and through.
Having seen Nirvana live just a few months before Cobain’s death was a surreal experience. The memories are not that of an energetic band having fun in the spotlight — beyond the raging mosh pit was a heavy dose of melancholy coming from the stage.
Cobain had already become a shell of his former self. His path, as I look back, was already set in motion.
But as I write this, the date is March 26. So, which celebrity death hits the hardest? Taylor Hawkins. Full stop.
Hawkins passed away Friday at the age of 50 while on tour with the Foo Fighters in Colombia.
Hawkins in life
Hawkins played drums for the Foo Fighters, arguably one of the biggest rock bands in the world. The band’s discography spans 25 years, comprising major hits like “My Hero,” “Monkey Wrench,” and of course the rock anthem that closed most of their live shows, “Everlong.”
The energy of a Foo show is unmatched. A current of electricity travels through everyone lucky enough to be in the arena. Dave Grohl is an amazing front man, but he isn’t the only one amping up the crowd into a frenzy. His partner in crime, Hawkins, worked his magic behind the drum kit.
The Foos came to rock, sure, but they were genuinely having fun up there and it was contagious — a stark dichotomy to that Nirvana show decades ago.
I have attended a handful of Foo Fighter shows. I will never forget what happened during the “Concrete and Gold Tour.”
Grohl stopped the show when he noticed a man with his daughter in the general admission section of the floor. The girl, maybe 5 or 6 and equipped with noise-canceling headphones, had fallen asleep. Grohl had the pair plucked from the crowd and let them sit on folding chairs directly on stage.
The little girl began taking photos with her dad’s cell. Grohl took time to pose and make funny faces, and so did Hawkins — pointing a drumstick her way, coming down from his kit to make a sassy move.
The chemistry between Grohl and Hawkins is well-known, and it always came through. They were first and foremost brothers, another tragic element to Hawkins’ untimely death. Their relationship was detailed in Grohl’s memoir, “The Storyteller: Tales of Life and Music.”
“Upon first meeting,” Grohl wrote, “our bond was immediate, and we grew closer with every day, every song, every note that we ever played together.”
“There goes my hero…”
When Cobain died by suicide in 1994, I was 15 years old. I turned my angst into sorrow, crying by candlelight as I stared at the Nirvana shrine plastered to my wall. Some thought I was ridiculous in my grief, but my mom’s empathy was comforting. It brought to her memories of losing one of her heroes, John Lennon. We had both lost the voice of our generation.
And yet somehow, the death of Hawkins cuts deeper.
Cobain was and remains an enigma, his image almost a cliché of the soul-tortured rock star. The Foo Fighters have always kept who they are at the forefront, from their no-holds-barred, rock-your-face-off concerts to silly antics like duping the Westboro Baptist Church and making the horror flick “Studio 666.”
For many, music shapes who we are. Nirvana’s album “Nevermind” is definitely part of the soundtrack of my youth, but the Foo Fighters’ 25-year catalog makes up a huge portion of the rest.
Now in my forties, there are relatable parallels. Hawkins leaves behind a wife, three children and a host of people who loved him.
When Cobain died, so did Nirvana. Is there a Foo Fighters sans Hawkins? I can’t imagine it. What will happen to Grohl’s signature jovial demeanor and big smile without his “best friend and partner in crime” by his side?
In a tweet following the announcement of Hawkins’ passing, the band released a short statement that said in part, “His musical spirit and infectious laughter will live on with all of us forever.”
Perhaps that will be the bookend to Hawkins’ celebrated legacy.
