I'm 33. My teenage years seem far, far away. Even my early 20s have started to vanish in a light nostalgic fog.
I had stopped thinking about them. I had stopped listening to them. Somehow, I thought I had outgrown them.
And then, Chester Bennington took his own life last night. I read the news at 3am, local time. Our 6-week-old baby was getting her mid-night cuddles and I found myself skimming through Reddit. It stung, but I thought it was a surface wound.
I had stopped thinking about them. I had stopped listening to them. Somehow, I thought I had outgrown them.
Probably the gig in Pori, Finland, in 2009, opened that gap. They sounded great -almost too great- but never addressed the audience. It was one of the coldest gigs I have ever attended. Needless to say, I was disappointed. Metallica would come later on stage to make it up. Damn. Looking back, what a privilege to have seen those 2 bands in 1 day.
I moved on to other genres, softened up a bit, even reconnected with some latino roots I did not think I'd ever acknowledge. Time went by. I only had couple of their songs on my "random" Spotify playlist and I would only play it every now and then. So, for the past years I only heard one of their tracks once in a while.
When I woke up this morning I saw more links, news, posts. From friends on Facebook to news outlets. I decided to pay the symbolic tribute any fan will pay when a cherished artist passes away: play some of their music. A final nod. My final thank you. That's when it hit me.
I had stopped thinking about them, I had stopped listening to them, but I never outgrew them. Those songs came back from the fog.
Chester did not simply take his life last night: he took part of mine with him.
I've read lots of comments and I have to be honest: I would not say he "channeled my anger", "voiced my frustration" or "funneled my strength to carry me through high-school". No, I had good, happy, sweet teenage years and 20s. But he brought me company on endless hikes, rhythm to commutes, comfort, beat, he picked me up when needed, kicked me in the ass when lazy. He helped me switch countries leaving a whole life behind. Most important: he witnessed. He witnessed a decade of my life.
I did not realize how much I had listened to him, to Linkin Park, until now. Playing their songs this morning, from "In The End" -I remember exactly where I saw the clip for the first time- to "The Little Things Give You Away", "Shadow Of The Day", "What I've Done", "Bleed It Out", damn, so many memories. The fog finally disappeared, the nostalgia kicked in, the wound grew deeper. A younger me going to Uni in Alicante, a younger me biking in Normandie on a rainy summer day, a younger me stumbling from interview to interview in Helsinki, a younger me growing up...
All things considered, #LinkinPark is probably one of the bands I have listened to the most. Full albums, lives, remixes… Mecano was my childhood, Maná my early teens, Linkin Park my late teens. What an evolution... After that the music industry opened up -beautiful euphemism- and it became easier to absorb much more artists at once: Snow Patrol, Coldplay, John Mayer and a myriad of singles.
It took a tragedy for me to realize how much this man and his voice had followed my steps during those amazing years. Yes, this is a selfish post: he took a chunk of my life with him. He took a chunk of the life of millions of people. But guess what: we would have given him more. If only that could have prevented what happened.
"Sometimes goodbye is the only way". Damn. It shouldn't Chester, it isn't. Damn. I'm sorry we could not help you. The sun has set for you. The sun has set, somehow, for all of us.
[Originally published on Fb page]