So my Foo world of karma carries on strong for another year. And the historic events that unfold just seem to get older and older and even more bizarre. I won the original 95 tour shirt (above - pics below) for a ridiculously low price.
I flicked the seller an email to say how much I appreciated it and where it was going - just because he'd written a great description, taken excellent photos, and had it straight in the mail.
He sent me a really nice hey back and said thanks, and that it meant a lot to know it will be looked after. And says he followed them pretty closely back in the day - and even wrote an article on them, and that I could check it out if I wanted.
So I finally got around to having a look... and seriously holy shit
And there was another after Kurt died:
And the name bugged the hell out of me - and then looking it up I understood why.
I bought this shirt from Gavin Edwards: Rolling Stone contributing editor, author of 8 books and man who realigned Kurt's spine on the German tour leg in 1991.
If you never have you need to read these two articles.
I drive past urban strip malls and motels as Dave perches his feet on the dashboard and smokes. Of Nirvana’s three members, Dave’s changed the least since Nevermind: He’s just as affable and easygoing as when I first met him two years ago. He points out the dealership where he bought two go-carts; he rides them in his backyard. He strongly implies that this is a healthier hobby than the firearms that Chris and Kurt now both own. Twenty-four years old, Dave’s still coming to terms with being an adult. Despite getting engaged, owning a house, and investing money with Merrill Lynch, he doesn’t feel grown up.
He recognizes that people don’t have any image of him beyond “the drummer in Nirvana,” which is the way he likes it. He knows he lacks “star quality”: “I get in front of a camera and I have the same smile I did for my class picture sophomore year of high school.” Being a celebrity disorients Dave. “This is all crazy and amusing, but not anything I’d want to put on a résumé.” Would he have been happier if Nevermind had sold half as many copies? He laughs. “Well, yeah, but then it still would have sold four million.”
For reasons that he hasn’t fully understood, maybe because he’s struggling with the meaning of fame, Dave has been having recurring dreams about Eddie Vedder. For example:
“My sister and I are at the zoo. We see this guy painted silver, wearing a Speedo bathing suit, with a bathing cap on—all silver—and it’s Eddie Vedder, trying to disguise himself. I walk up to him and say, ‘Eddie, I know that’s you.’ He goes, ‘Dave, how ya doin’, man?’ And then he takes my hand and puts my finger in his mouth, and he keeps talking while he’s sucking on my finger…. Paging Dr. Freud!”
Dave’s put aside a chunk of money so he can go back to school someday. He’s a high school dropout but wants to finish college. Chris thinks he’ll end up at his farmhouse, growing apples and potatoes, “running with the elk.” They both know not to expect a lifetime with Nirvana. Kurt also wishes he had gone to college. “I’ll probably go back to school when I’m forty,” he says.
“I’m looking forward to a few more years of playing with this band. Then a few years later I might say a few years more. I don’t try to predict the future, but I know I’m not going to be rich for the rest of my life. I have money now, but within ten years we’ll blow it. I’ll have to get a job or have a solo career or something equally embarrassing.”