When Chris announced that he was going to try to reaquire the original master tapes from the Temple Of The Dog sessions, it was a very exciting time for the sound I grew up with. Within the year, November 11th 2016 bore a reunion show at San Francisco’s Bill Graham Civic Auditorium, and I attended. It was as perfect as could be expected, always a top performer.
I am in the target demographic for whom this music was supposed to influence the most, and for whomever studied my generation closely enough to determine that, thank you. It worked, and the ride was an unforgettable one, to say the least. I am so glad to have grown up in the generation I did, to experience this as it was happening. Amazing was this time in history, where it didn’t need the help of the internet to spread like wildfire.
With the explosion of Seattle into pop culture, it wasn’t long before we started recognizing the unsustainability of our sound. The music that came from that secluded corner in the Pacific Northwest was definitely unique and genuine, but obviously tortured and scarred, and that has to be what makes Chris so relevant. So many in my generation are tormented by something, and sometimes it becomes too much to bear.
I’ve been listening to “Preaching The End Of The World” for 3 days straight, to the extreme irritation of my whole family. It seems like he rode a dangerously thin line, for perhaps most of his years. It is all over his work, but rather than succumb, he seemed to have a brand of grace that turned his pain into a marble statue we could all visit, and connect with. It is still, as it has been, nearly impossible to acknowledge that there’s not going to be any more from him. From someone that feels like much more than a fan, I grew up depending on Chris to have something for the soul when things get too difficult to bear. He truly was the voice of my generation.
The world can never produce another like him. I am feeling just the same, and there’s nothing left.