Podcast appearances and mentions of kurt cobain nirvana

This week on Residue we explore the eerie world of songs that were inspired by true crime cases. This episode features songs by Sarah McLachlan, Nirvana, Sherman Kelly, and Boomtown Rats. You might be surprised by the real story behind the songs you've been humming all these years. SOURCES:https://americansongwriter.com/the-unhealthy-fan-obsessions-that-inspired-sarah-mclachlans-possession/https://www.treblezine.com/sarah-mclachlan-possession-fame-dark-side/https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Polly_(Nirvana_song)https://ultimateclassicrock.com/story-songs/https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cleveland_Elementary_School_shooting_(San_Diego)https://thebigboardblog.wordpress.com/2016/09/26/this-is-not-a-love-song/https://vinyldialogues.com/VinylDialoguesBlog/the-traumatic-experience-that-inspired-the-hit-dancing-in-the-moonlight/https://americansongwriter.com/meaning-behind-dancing-in-the-moonlight/https://www.ultimate-guitar.com/articles/features/the_incredibly_disturbing_real-life_story_behind_nirvanas_polly-134482https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pktAYAk-q1chttps://faroutmagazine.co.uk/tragic-events-led-to-nirvana-song-polly/https://news.google.com/newspapers?id=CENYAAAAIBAJ&sjid=5PkDAAAAIBAJ&pg=5160,21359https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dancing_in_the_Moonlight#:~:text=%22Dancing%20in%20the%20Moonlight%22%20is,on%20the%20Billboard%20Hot%20100.https://americansongwriter.com/the-meaning-and-tragic-kidnapping-behind-one-of-nirvanas-darkest-songs-polly/Dancing In The Moonlight written by Sherman Kelly Polly written by Kurt Cobain/Nirvana 18 and Life by Skid RowI Don't Like Mondays by Boomtown RatsPossession by Sarah McLachlan Send us a textEmail Residue: residuepodcast@gmail.comFind RESIDUE online:Instagram: @residuepodcastTik Tok: @residuepodcast Facebook: Residue:A True Crime Podcast Credits: RESIDUE is Hosted/Produced/Researched/Edited by Chrissy Champagne THEME SONG: "Dance Of Death" by Purple Planet Music collection written and performed by Chris Martyn and Geoff Harvey. Additional music provided by Epidemic Sound. Residue logo designed by Tricia Cappelli

Tom Grant (PI Hired by Courtney Love) join Matt Beall Limitless to answer subscriber questions and much more.

02.00 a 03.00: Nos situamos en "Macondo" con Juan Carlos Iragorri y abordamos la actualidad de América Latina junto a Michael Shifter, profesor adjunto en la escuela de Asuntos Exteriores de la Universidad de Georgetown. En "Antropoturismo", con Paula Ginés, trazamos el perfil biográfico de la política Dolores Ibárruri (1895-1989), conocida como la Pasionaria. Nos ayuda su nieta, Lola Ruiz-Ibárruri. Y ya es jueves y, con Pancho Varona, escuchamos más "Música para los pájaros". Esta semana, nos centramos en los artistas que forman parte del fatídico Club de los 27: She's A Rainbow (Brian Jones - The Rolling Stones), All Along The Watchtower (Jimi Hendrix), Me And Bobby McGee (Janis Joplin), Riders On The Storm (Jim Morrison - The Doors), Lithium (Kurt Cobain - Nirvana) y Back To Black (Amy Winehouse).Escuchar audio

Con Pancho Varona, escuchamos más "Música para los pájaros". Esta semana, nos centramos en los artistas que forman parte del fatídico Club de los 27: She's A Rainbow (Brian Jones - The Rolling Stones), All Along The Watchtower (Jimi Hendrix), Me And Bobby McGee (Janis Joplin), Riders On The Storm (Jim Morrison - The Doors), Lithium (Kurt Cobain - Nirvana) y Back To Black (Amy Winehouse).Escuchar audio

"A Night of Rock and Roll Remembrance: Grateful Dead at MSG, 1990"Larry Mishkin pays tribute to Jimi Hendrix, reflecting on his iconic rock career and tragic passing 53 years ago. He shares anecdotes about Hendrix's influence on rock music and highlights the infamous 27 Club, a group of rock legends who died at the age of 27. The episode also previews upcoming music events, including Fish Fest and Tedeschi Trucks Band's shows with special guests like Warren Haynes and Norah Jones, promising an exciting lineup for music enthusiasts..Produced by PodConx  Deadhead Cannabis Show - https://podconx.com/podcasts/deadhead-cannabis-showLarry Mishkin - https://podconx.com/guests/larry-mishkinRob Hunt - https://podconx.com/guests/rob-huntJay Blakesberg - https://podconx.com/guests/jay-blakesbergMeetLoaf Website - https://meetloaftribute.com/performance-schedule/Recorded on Squadcast Grateful Dead, September 18, 1990, MSG, NYCGrateful Dead Live at Madison Square Garden on 1990-09-18 : Free Borrow & Streaming : Internet Archive This show was on the 20th anniversay of Jimi Hendrix's death.  Interesting because I see it in headlines re this show, but they really didn't play anything Jimi related as far as I can tell and none of the comments even mention that.  Neverthless, it is a noteworthy anniversary (53 years he has been gone, almost double his life span of 27, he's in that club). Dead also did a show on this date in 1970, the day Jimi died but when I  checked that show there was no acknowledgement (that I could hear) of Jimi dying but of course, back then with no interenet, they may not even have known on that date anyway. Nevertheless, Jimi is Jimi so I'm openkng the episode with him on the intro and then switching over to the Dead show.  INTRO:               Foxey Lady                           Jimi Hendrix                           Miami Pop Festival, 1968 (great You Tube video , check it out)                           The Jimi Hendrix Experience - Foxey Lady (Miami Pop 1968) - YouTube                           Start – 1:30                            One of my favorite openings of any rock song out there.  Just loud Jimi from the outset,  Even if you are not a big Jimi fan, you may also recognize this because of how distinctive it is.               Jimi born on Nov. 27, 1942 in Seattle              Died in 1970 in London              Member of the “27” club along with; Brian Jones (Stones), Alan Wilson (Canned Heat), Jim Morrison (Doors),Janis Joplin,Kurt Cobain (Nirvana),Pig PenAmy WinehouseDave Alexander (Stooges – with Iggy Pop)Peter Ham (Badfinger) Created three of the most famous albums in rock:               Are you Experienced              Axis: Bold as Love              Electric Ladyland Jimi died 53 years ago today. Hendrix aspirated his own vomit and died of asphyxia while intoxicated with barbiturates.Still considered the greatest rock guitarist ever although there are a few who could give him a serious run for the money.  Dead Great show, Vince's third show (started on 9.7.90) and Bruce Hornsby's 3d as well.  Show known for all of its epic jams which I will primarily be focusing on. SHOW #1:          Minglelwood Blues                           Track #2                           3:15 – 4:23                            Perenial tune that the Dead played from Day one (and even before) through the end.  Check out Bruce's jam on this clip and then band comes crashing back in.  Very cool. SHOW #2:          To Lay Me Down                           Track #7                           Start – 1:33                            I know I have mostly been featuring jams, but Jerry's vocals are so beautiful here, with great crowd reaction, that on this one I had to go with the vocals.  A nine minute version of one of Jerry and Hunter's  prettiest ballads.  When Jerry's voice is on, like here, you can make a strong argument is is their best. SHOW #3:          Promised Land                           Track #8                           3:33 – 5:00                           Love this song whether it opens the show or closes the set as here.  Just a rocker written by Chuck Berry while he was in jail – used the prison library atlas to help him pick out the geographic route taken by the “Poor Boy” on his trip from Norfolk VA to LA via bus, plain and the houstontown people who care a thing about him and won't let him down. But check out this jam at the end of the song.  Normally breaks right off after the final lyrics but today they just jam it out – the spirit of Jimi? SHOW #4:          Foolish Heart (jam out of – from So Many Roads Boxed Set)                           Track # 11                           6:20 – 7:45                            Classic Dead jam that got a lot of attention when it was included in the Dead's original box set, So Many Roads, released a long time ago (Nov. 7, 1999) as a separate track actually titled, “Jam Out Of Foolish Heart”.  At their improvisational best here. Strong Other One foreshadowing which plays out as advertised after a strong drums and funky Space.  The whole second set just rolls along.  A good night to be in MSG seeing the boys.  OUTRO:              Knockin On Heaven's Door                           Track # 18                           Start – 1:30                            Again, the music intro jam is so great that's what I am featuring.  Be sure to check out Bruce Hornsby's jumping in on the accordion!  Really nice Bob Dylan cover, Jerry played it for years.  Was released on his Run For The Roses album.

https://www.youtube.com/CanalDaLukaSalomao

Shortly after recording #133, Greg learned that pioneer Grunge vocalist Mark Lanegan had passed away at 57 from COVID complications. Lead singer for the Screaming Trees, Lanegan was a friend and collaborator with so many great musicians; Kurt Cobain (Nirvana), Layne Staley (Alice in Chains), Josh Homme (Queens of the Stone Age), Isobel Campbell (Belle and Sebastian), PJ Harvey, and more. He was considered a true friend to so many musicians, all of which have been expressing condolences and paying tribute since his passing. We discuss it all and pay tribute ourselves, Rest in Power Mark Lanegan!Songs: Screaming Trees - “Nearly Lost You”Mark Lanegan & Kurt Cobain - “Where Did You Sleep Last Night”Queens of the Stone Age - “In The Fade”Mad Season - “Long Gone Day”Jay has been enjoying “Earthling”, the latest solo album from Eddie Vedder over the past few weeks…and then he read what Pitchfork had to say. Welcome back to “Review the Review”, where we review someone else's album review (almost exclusively from Pitchfork). This round we spend most of the time trying to figure what the hell Alfred Soto even thinks about the album in question. [Pitchfork]Song: Eddie Vedder - “Try”Nick picks up last week's discussion about the qualities of an ideal bandleader with the following scenario... so you want to start a band. You've arranged some musicians (maybe friends, maybe strangers) and you're having your first practice in one week. What does that ideal first practice look like and what do you do to prepare?Song: Mark Guiliana - “Song for Investigating Consciousness”

FROM OUR PATREON 27 CLUB SEASON. This episode covers the circumstances and the theories surrounding Nirvana frontman Kurt Cobain's death. It picks up after Kurt escapes from rehab. If you haven't listened to Part 1 of the story, check it out first! This episode was recorded in July of 2021.Listen to the accompanying playlist for this episode on Spotify at https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4IwSjBJOgj8orZv6fjRmxR?si=770832bb0afa4df9Support the show (https://www.patreon.com/deathbypodcastteam)

FROM OUR PATREON 27 CLUB SERIES, Here's the much requested story of Kurt Cobain and his mysterious death! The first part, at least. This episode will cover his early life and rise to fame with Nirvana, up until he escaped rehab just before his death. Recorded in July of 2021.Listen to the accompanying playlist for this episode on Spotify at https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4IwSjBJOgj8orZv6fjRmxR?si=770832bb0afa4df9Support the show (https://www.patreon.com/deathbypodcastteam)

WARNING: SENSITIVE SUBJECT MATTER SUCH AS THEMES OF SUICIDE ARE DISCUSSED In this unique episode, Carmen Z along with returning guest and dear friend Eric sit down to discuss the themes of happiness and addiction along with the story and music of Kurt Cobain (Nirvana).  It is a tale as old as time.  The pursuit of happiness, the self-destruction when the weight of the world is too much to bear.  As this episode is heavy in nature, with suicide as a main focus, we encourage you to listen with care.  The last minutes of this episode, Eric reads a play he wrote years ago on his perspective of the last minutes of Kurt Cobain's death. Sending love and support to all who might be struggling at this time, have loved ones who are struggling and for all of us finding our way during these unique times.  You are all beautiful and deserving of another day… don't lose hope.  Hope is always on the horizon of another mornings' sunrise… Deep Love, Carmen Z Please visit the Instagram page for the link in bio for resources Carmen Z recommends for anyone who may need tools to help navigate mental health trauma from Carmen's own personal teachers she finds grace and guidance from. 

Bem-vindos ao Daniel Iasbeck Podcast! Conheça meu curso gratuito de gravação com o Logic: http://bit.ly/curso_gravando_logic Após me deparar com um post muito interessante sobre a trágica morte do Kurt Cobain, chamei o autor do texto, o genial Paulo Imperiano (guitarrista e vocalista do Betty 57) pra um papo sobre o legado do Nirvana e do movimento grunge. Espero que curtam! COMPRE AQUI o livro Diários de Kurt Cobain: https://amzn.to/34bw7V3 Conheça e siga o meu trabalho musical no Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/artist/5yo4596Taq52N2EZxmvjzS Assine também o meu canal no YouTube: https://bit.ly/danieliasbeck #danieliasbeck #nirvana #kurtcobain

Urodzeni: Ian Brown (Stone Roses), Kurt Cobain (Nirvana), Brian Littrell (Backstreet Boys), Yulia Volkova (T.A.T.U.), Rihanna, Buffy Saint-Marie (foto).Nagranie z roku 2021.

Da adolescente, a seguito di diverse esperienze dure con sé stesso e la propria depressione, Kurt Cobain decise di togliersi la vita. Fortunatamente il tentativo fu sventato da un colpo gobbo del destino che ci ha regalato una pagina di storia del Rock internazionale. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Muchos de vosotros con este título ya sabréis de que trata el programa de hoy. Quien no lo sepa, el programa de hoy es uno muy especial en el que tiene cabida artistas tan importantes como Amy Winehouse, Jimi Hendrix, Brian Jones (The Rolling Stone), Kurt Cobain (Nirvana), Jim Morrison (The doors) y Janis Joplin. Escúchalo y descubre de que se trata.

In this episode of the podcast, grizzled rock writers Joel and Mick turn their highly attuned attention to the golden boy of grunge, Kurt Cobain. In a brief but blistering 4 years, Kurt went from social outcast to being the Jesus Christ of popular music, The music he spearheaded, and the bands who followed in his slipstream (Soundgarden, Pearl Jam, Alice In Chains and the rest) would completely change the musical landscape. And it was. scene that was born with Bleach and which effectively died along with Kurt's suicide. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

What were the last words of Elvis Presley? What did John Lennon say before he died? Famous last words and idioms this week on…….Aprender Inglés con Reza y Craig Las notas del episodio y más podcasts para mejorar tu ingles están en: http://www.inglespodcast.com/  Shownotes and more podcasts to improve your English at: http://www.inglespodcast.com/  Voice Message from Alba Romá from Denia Great idea to talk to your baby in English Alex Perdel Aventura Bilingue: https://enclavedepodcast.com/2017/02/05/alex-perdel/  Alex’s Podcast: http://www.crecereningles.com/podcast/  iTunes review: Thank you! This is the best podcast I ever found. Good work! It's very helpful. I found you three weeks ago and now I'm addicted. by Aldroper from Spain Voice Message from Gabriel from Tijuana He’s not disagreeing with us, he’s disagreeing with the wall. Episode 149 Edgar Ubaldo’s message (http://www.inglespodcast.com/2017/04/03/the-mexican-wall-and-eugenis-pronunciation-airc149/  ) Voice message from Josep from Barcelona The Phrase Finder: http://www.phrases.org.uk/  Kurt Cobain - Nirvana (1967-1994) It's better to burn out than to fade away." Elvis Presley (1935 - 1977) Towards the end of his life, at his last press conference, amongst the final words he said in public were: "I hope I haven't bored you." Elvis took an overdose of drugs and he said to his fiancée "I'm going to the bathroom to read." John Lennon (1940-1980) "I'm shot." John Quincy Adams (1767–1848) - 6th President of the United States "This, is the last of earth. I am content." Frank Sinatra died after saying, “I’m losing it.” Buddha (AKA Siddhattha Gautama) circa 563BC - circa 483BC "Work hard to gain your own salvation." He also said, "Behold, O monks, this is my advice to you. All component things in the world are changeable." George Orwell’s last written words were, “At fifty, everyone has the face he deserves.” He died at age 46. Leonardo da Vinci was very modest. He said, “I have offended God and mankind because my work did not reach the quality it should have.” Spike Milligan (1918-2005) "I told you I was ill." (Epitaph written on his tombstone) Sir Winston Churchill’s last words were, “I’m bored with it all.” As he was dying, Alfred Hitchcock said, “One never knows the ending. One has to die to know exactly what happens after death, although Catholics have their hopes.” Stan Laurel (1890-1965) "I'd rather be skiing." Groucho Marx’s final quip (witty remark) when he was dying was: “This is no way to live!” Ernesto “Che” Guevara’s last words before execution, after being taken prisoner: “I know you are here to kill me. Shoot! You’re only going to kill a man!” Johannes Brahms, German composer (1833 - 1897): “Ah! That tastes nice! Thank you” after he had a small glass of wine. Anna Pavlova, Russian ballerina, (1881 - 1931): “Get my swan costume ready.” Dylan Thomas, poet, (1914 - 1953): “I’ve had 18 straight whiskies. I think that’s the record…” Karl Marx, German philosopher, (1818 - 1883): When asked by his housekeeper what he wanted his final words to be, he said: “Go on, get out! Last words are for fools who haven’t said enough!” What would you want your last words to be? How would you like to be remembered? If you could leave a 'moral will', what would be in it? - What advice would you like to pass on? Interesting idiomatic phrases Put the cart before the horse - Reverse the accepted or logical order of things. - eat dessert before the main course or decide what to wear before you've been invited to the party. 'upside down', 'topsy-turvy' and 'inside out'. Get off scot free - completely free from obligation, harm, or penalty “The bank robbers got off scot free” - nothing to do with Scottish people. It comes from not paying taxes! Take the Mickey - tease or make fun of (burlar) - Take the Mickey Bliss (Cockney rhyming slang - http://www.inglespodcast.com/2016/05/29/the-london-accent-and-cockney-rhyming-slang-airc105/   NB. This expression has no connection with Mickey Mouse! Back to square one - back to the beginning, start again Over the moon - very happy or delighted ...and now it's your turn to practise your English. Do you have a question for us or an idea for a future episode? Send us a voice message and tell us what you think. https://www.speakpipe.com/inglespodcast  Send us an email with a comment or question to craig@inglespodcast.com or belfastreza@gmail.com. If you would like more detailed show notes, go to https://www.patreon.com/inglespodcast  Our lovely sponsors are: Nikolay Dimitrov Ana Cherta Pedro Martinez Maite Palacín Pérez Lara Arlem Maria Gervatti Sara Jarabo Carlos Garrido Zara Heath Picazo Mamen Juan Leyva Galera Corey Fineran Mariel Riedemann Jorge Jiménez Raul Lopez Rafael Manuel Tarazona Agus Paolucci Manuel Velázquez Néstor García Mañes We want to thank Arminda from Madrid for continuing to transcribe full transcriptions. There are now full transcriptions for episodes 131, 134, 135, 136, 137, 138, 139 and 140. Thank you also to Alberto Gómez from Granada who has kindly transcribed episode 132 on Linking sounds If you would like all of our episodes transcribed, go to https://www.patreon.com/inglespodcast  If you are a sponsor and have a job interview in English soon, there’s a free pdf and mp3 of our How To Pass a Job Interview e-book on the Patreon page On next week's episode: Jose’s True Story The music in this podcast is by Pitx. The track is called 'See You Later' Las notas del episodio y más podcasts para mejorar tu ingles están en: http://www.inglespodcast.com/  Shownotes and more podcasts to improve your English at: http://www.inglespodcast.com/    

  Fear the Walking Dead Pool It was 1990 something (‘94): Hughes-DirecTV launched Kurt Cobain (Nirvana) flossed his teeth with a shotgun. OJ Simpson took the Bronco for a spin Why mom was pimping Peanut Butter in Back to the Beach //www.youtube.com/watch?v=W-VfjUnT29g   //www.youtube.com/watch?v=HKUq6LkYfCw Andy Dufresne escaped prison You *had* to pick your favorite captain in […] The post Fear the Walking Dead Pool – Fall TV Pilots appeared first on The Couch Potato Podcast.

When I arrived at college in the early 1980s, drugs were cool, music was cool, and drug-music was especially cool. The coolest of the cool drug-music bands was The Velvet Underground. They were from the mean streets of New York City (The Doors were from the soft parade of L.A….); they hung out with Andy Warhol (The Beatles hung out with Maharishi Mahesh Yogi…); they had a female drummer (The Grateful Dead had two drummers, but that still didn't help…); and, of course, they did heroin. Or at least they wrote a famous song about it. We did not do heroin, but we thought that those who did–like Lou Reed and the rest–were hipper than hip. I imagine we would have done it if there had been any around (thank God for small favors). We thought we had discovered something new. But as Eric C. Schneider points out in his marvelous Smack: Heroin and the American City (University of Pennsylvania Press, 2008), the conjunction of music, heroin, and cool was hardly an invention of my generation. The three came together in the 1940s, when smack-using bebop players (think Charlie Parker) taught the “Beat Generation” that heroin was hip. Neither was my generation the last to succumb to a heroin fad. The triad of music, heroin, and cool united again in the 1990s, when drug-addled pop-culture icons such as Jim Carroll (The Basketball Diaries), Kurt Cobain (Nirvana), and Calvin Klein (of “heroin chic” fame) taught “Generation X” the same lesson. History, or at least the history of heroin, repeats itself. For white, middle-class folks like me heroin chic was an episode, a rebellious moment in an otherwise “normal” American life. But as Schneider makes clear, the passage of heroin from cultural elites to the population at large was not always so benign, particularly in the declining inner-cities of the 1960s and 1970s. Here heroin had nothing to do with being cool and everything to do with earning a living and escaping reality. For millions of impoverished, hopeless, urban-dwelling hispanics and blacks, heroin was a paycheck and a checkout. The drug helped destroy the people in the inner-city, and thus the inner-city itself. In response to the “heroin epidemic” of the 1960s and 1970s, the government launched the first war on drugs, focusing its energy on “pushers.” But there were no “pushers” because–and this is the greatest insight in a book full of great insights–pushing was not the way heroin use spread, either among middle-class college kids or the down-and-out of New York, Chicago, and Philadelphia. No one pushed heroin on anyone. Rather, users taught their friends how to use; in turn, those friends–now users–taught their friends, and so on. Heroin stealthily spread through personal networks. The only part of the process that was visible was the result: in the case of suburban college kids, bad grades and rehab; in the case of poor urban hispanics and blacks, crime and incarceration. Not surprisingly, when the heroin “epidemic” ended, it was not due to the war on drugs. Heroin simply fell out of fashion, in this case being replaced by another fashionable drug, powder and crack cocaine. Today we are fighting cocaine just as we fought heroin, and, by all appearances, with similar success. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

When I arrived at college in the early 1980s, drugs were cool, music was cool, and drug-music was especially cool. The coolest of the cool drug-music bands was The Velvet Underground. They were from the mean streets of New York City (The Doors were from the soft parade of L.A….); they hung out with Andy Warhol (The Beatles hung out with Maharishi Mahesh Yogi…); they had a female drummer (The Grateful Dead had two drummers, but that still didn't help…); and, of course, they did heroin. Or at least they wrote a famous song about it. We did not do heroin, but we thought that those who did–like Lou Reed and the rest–were hipper than hip. I imagine we would have done it if there had been any around (thank God for small favors). We thought we had discovered something new. But as Eric C. Schneider points out in his marvelous Smack: Heroin and the American City (University of Pennsylvania Press, 2008), the conjunction of music, heroin, and cool was hardly an invention of my generation. The three came together in the 1940s, when smack-using bebop players (think Charlie Parker) taught the “Beat Generation” that heroin was hip. Neither was my generation the last to succumb to a heroin fad. The triad of music, heroin, and cool united again in the 1990s, when drug-addled pop-culture icons such as Jim Carroll (The Basketball Diaries), Kurt Cobain (Nirvana), and Calvin Klein (of “heroin chic” fame) taught “Generation X” the same lesson. History, or at least the history of heroin, repeats itself. For white, middle-class folks like me heroin chic was an episode, a rebellious moment in an otherwise “normal” American life. But as Schneider makes clear, the passage of heroin from cultural elites to the population at large was not always so benign, particularly in the declining inner-cities of the 1960s and 1970s. Here heroin had nothing to do with being cool and everything to do with earning a living and escaping reality. For millions of impoverished, hopeless, urban-dwelling hispanics and blacks, heroin was a paycheck and a checkout. The drug helped destroy the people in the inner-city, and thus the inner-city itself. In response to the “heroin epidemic” of the 1960s and 1970s, the government launched the first war on drugs, focusing its energy on “pushers.” But there were no “pushers” because–and this is the greatest insight in a book full of great insights–pushing was not the way heroin use spread, either among middle-class college kids or the down-and-out of New York, Chicago, and Philadelphia. No one pushed heroin on anyone. Rather, users taught their friends how to use; in turn, those friends–now users–taught their friends, and so on. Heroin stealthily spread through personal networks. The only part of the process that was visible was the result: in the case of suburban college kids, bad grades and rehab; in the case of poor urban hispanics and blacks, crime and incarceration. Not surprisingly, when the heroin “epidemic” ended, it was not due to the war on drugs. Heroin simply fell out of fashion, in this case being replaced by another fashionable drug, powder and crack cocaine. Today we are fighting cocaine just as we fought heroin, and, by all appearances, with similar success. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

When I arrived at college in the early 1980s, drugs were cool, music was cool, and drug-music was especially cool. The coolest of the cool drug-music bands was The Velvet Underground. They were from the mean streets of New York City (The Doors were from the soft parade of L.A….); they hung out with Andy Warhol (The Beatles hung out with Maharishi Mahesh Yogi…); they had a female drummer (The Grateful Dead had two drummers, but that still didn’t help…); and, of course, they did heroin. Or at least they wrote a famous song about it. We did not do heroin, but we thought that those who did–like Lou Reed and the rest–were hipper than hip. I imagine we would have done it if there had been any around (thank God for small favors). We thought we had discovered something new. But as Eric C. Schneider points out in his marvelous Smack: Heroin and the American City (University of Pennsylvania Press, 2008), the conjunction of music, heroin, and cool was hardly an invention of my generation. The three came together in the 1940s, when smack-using bebop players (think Charlie Parker) taught the “Beat Generation” that heroin was hip. Neither was my generation the last to succumb to a heroin fad. The triad of music, heroin, and cool united again in the 1990s, when drug-addled pop-culture icons such as Jim Carroll (The Basketball Diaries), Kurt Cobain (Nirvana), and Calvin Klein (of “heroin chic” fame) taught “Generation X” the same lesson. History, or at least the history of heroin, repeats itself. For white, middle-class folks like me heroin chic was an episode, a rebellious moment in an otherwise “normal” American life. But as Schneider makes clear, the passage of heroin from cultural elites to the population at large was not always so benign, particularly in the declining inner-cities of the 1960s and 1970s. Here heroin had nothing to do with being cool and everything to do with earning a living and escaping reality. For millions of impoverished, hopeless, urban-dwelling hispanics and blacks, heroin was a paycheck and a checkout. The drug helped destroy the people in the inner-city, and thus the inner-city itself. In response to the “heroin epidemic” of the 1960s and 1970s, the government launched the first war on drugs, focusing its energy on “pushers.” But there were no “pushers” because–and this is the greatest insight in a book full of great insights–pushing was not the way heroin use spread, either among middle-class college kids or the down-and-out of New York, Chicago, and Philadelphia. No one pushed heroin on anyone. Rather, users taught their friends how to use; in turn, those friends–now users–taught their friends, and so on. Heroin stealthily spread through personal networks. The only part of the process that was visible was the result: in the case of suburban college kids, bad grades and rehab; in the case of poor urban hispanics and blacks, crime and incarceration. Not surprisingly, when the heroin “epidemic” ended, it was not due to the war on drugs. Heroin simply fell out of fashion, in this case being replaced by another fashionable drug, powder and crack cocaine. Today we are fighting cocaine just as we fought heroin, and, by all appearances, with similar success. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

When I arrived at college in the early 1980s, drugs were cool, music was cool, and drug-music was especially cool. The coolest of the cool drug-music bands was The Velvet Underground. They were from the mean streets of New York City (The Doors were from the soft parade of L.A….); they hung out with Andy Warhol (The Beatles hung out with Maharishi Mahesh Yogi…); they had a female drummer (The Grateful Dead had two drummers, but that still didn't help…); and, of course, they did heroin. Or at least they wrote a famous song about it. We did not do heroin, but we thought that those who did–like Lou Reed and the rest–were hipper than hip. I imagine we would have done it if there had been any around (thank God for small favors). We thought we had discovered something new. But as Eric C. Schneider points out in his marvelous Smack: Heroin and the American City (University of Pennsylvania Press, 2008), the conjunction of music, heroin, and cool was hardly an invention of my generation. The three came together in the 1940s, when smack-using bebop players (think Charlie Parker) taught the “Beat Generation” that heroin was hip. Neither was my generation the last to succumb to a heroin fad. The triad of music, heroin, and cool united again in the 1990s, when drug-addled pop-culture icons such as Jim Carroll (The Basketball Diaries), Kurt Cobain (Nirvana), and Calvin Klein (of “heroin chic” fame) taught “Generation X” the same lesson. History, or at least the history of heroin, repeats itself. For white, middle-class folks like me heroin chic was an episode, a rebellious moment in an otherwise “normal” American life. But as Schneider makes clear, the passage of heroin from cultural elites to the population at large was not always so benign, particularly in the declining inner-cities of the 1960s and 1970s. Here heroin had nothing to do with being cool and everything to do with earning a living and escaping reality. For millions of impoverished, hopeless, urban-dwelling hispanics and blacks, heroin was a paycheck and a checkout. The drug helped destroy the people in the inner-city, and thus the inner-city itself. In response to the “heroin epidemic” of the 1960s and 1970s, the government launched the first war on drugs, focusing its energy on “pushers.” But there were no “pushers” because–and this is the greatest insight in a book full of great insights–pushing was not the way heroin use spread, either among middle-class college kids or the down-and-out of New York, Chicago, and Philadelphia. No one pushed heroin on anyone. Rather, users taught their friends how to use; in turn, those friends–now users–taught their friends, and so on. Heroin stealthily spread through personal networks. The only part of the process that was visible was the result: in the case of suburban college kids, bad grades and rehab; in the case of poor urban hispanics and blacks, crime and incarceration. Not surprisingly, when the heroin “epidemic” ended, it was not due to the war on drugs. Heroin simply fell out of fashion, in this case being replaced by another fashionable drug, powder and crack cocaine. Today we are fighting cocaine just as we fought heroin, and, by all appearances, with similar success. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/african-american-studies

When I arrived at college in the early 1980s, drugs were cool, music was cool, and drug-music was especially cool. The coolest of the cool drug-music bands was The Velvet Underground. They were from the mean streets of New York City (The Doors were from the soft parade of L.A….); they hung out with Andy Warhol (The Beatles hung out with Maharishi Mahesh Yogi…); they had a female drummer (The Grateful Dead had two drummers, but that still didn't help…); and, of course, they did heroin. Or at least they wrote a famous song about it. We did not do heroin, but we thought that those who did–like Lou Reed and the rest–were hipper than hip. I imagine we would have done it if there had been any around (thank God for small favors). We thought we had discovered something new. But as Eric C. Schneider points out in his marvelous Smack: Heroin and the American City (University of Pennsylvania Press, 2008), the conjunction of music, heroin, and cool was hardly an invention of my generation. The three came together in the 1940s, when smack-using bebop players (think Charlie Parker) taught the “Beat Generation” that heroin was hip. Neither was my generation the last to succumb to a heroin fad. The triad of music, heroin, and cool united again in the 1990s, when drug-addled pop-culture icons such as Jim Carroll (The Basketball Diaries), Kurt Cobain (Nirvana), and Calvin Klein (of “heroin chic” fame) taught “Generation X” the same lesson. History, or at least the history of heroin, repeats itself. For white, middle-class folks like me heroin chic was an episode, a rebellious moment in an otherwise “normal” American life. But as Schneider makes clear, the passage of heroin from cultural elites to the population at large was not always so benign, particularly in the declining inner-cities of the 1960s and 1970s. Here heroin had nothing to do with being cool and everything to do with earning a living and escaping reality. For millions of impoverished, hopeless, urban-dwelling hispanics and blacks, heroin was a paycheck and a checkout. The drug helped destroy the people in the inner-city, and thus the inner-city itself. In response to the “heroin epidemic” of the 1960s and 1970s, the government launched the first war on drugs, focusing its energy on “pushers.” But there were no “pushers” because–and this is the greatest insight in a book full of great insights–pushing was not the way heroin use spread, either among middle-class college kids or the down-and-out of New York, Chicago, and Philadelphia. No one pushed heroin on anyone. Rather, users taught their friends how to use; in turn, those friends–now users–taught their friends, and so on. Heroin stealthily spread through personal networks. The only part of the process that was visible was the result: in the case of suburban college kids, bad grades and rehab; in the case of poor urban hispanics and blacks, crime and incarceration. Not surprisingly, when the heroin “epidemic” ended, it was not due to the war on drugs. Heroin simply fell out of fashion, in this case being replaced by another fashionable drug, powder and crack cocaine. Today we are fighting cocaine just as we fought heroin, and, by all appearances, with similar success. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/drugs-addiction-and-recovery

When I arrived at college in the early 1980s, drugs were cool, music was cool, and drug-music was especially cool. The coolest of the cool drug-music bands was The Velvet Underground. They were from the mean streets of New York City (The Doors were from the soft parade of L.A….); they hung out with Andy Warhol (The Beatles hung out with Maharishi Mahesh Yogi…); they had a female drummer (The Grateful Dead had two drummers, but that still didn’t help…); and, of course, they did heroin. Or at least they wrote a famous song about it. We did not do heroin, but we thought that those who did–like Lou Reed and the rest–were hipper than hip. I imagine we would have done it if there had been any around (thank God for small favors). We thought we had discovered something new. But as Eric C. Schneider points out in his marvelous Smack: Heroin and the American City (University of Pennsylvania Press, 2008), the conjunction of music, heroin, and cool was hardly an invention of my generation. The three came together in the 1940s, when smack-using bebop players (think Charlie Parker) taught the “Beat Generation” that heroin was hip. Neither was my generation the last to succumb to a heroin fad. The triad of music, heroin, and cool united again in the 1990s, when drug-addled pop-culture icons such as Jim Carroll (The Basketball Diaries), Kurt Cobain (Nirvana), and Calvin Klein (of “heroin chic” fame) taught “Generation X” the same lesson. History, or at least the history of heroin, repeats itself. For white, middle-class folks like me heroin chic was an episode, a rebellious moment in an otherwise “normal” American life. But as Schneider makes clear, the passage of heroin from cultural elites to the population at large was not always so benign, particularly in the declining inner-cities of the 1960s and 1970s. Here heroin had nothing to do with being cool and everything to do with earning a living and escaping reality. For millions of impoverished, hopeless, urban-dwelling hispanics and blacks, heroin was a paycheck and a checkout. The drug helped destroy the people in the inner-city, and thus the inner-city itself. In response to the “heroin epidemic” of the 1960s and 1970s, the government launched the first war on drugs, focusing its energy on “pushers.” But there were no “pushers” because–and this is the greatest insight in a book full of great insights–pushing was not the way heroin use spread, either among middle-class college kids or the down-and-out of New York, Chicago, and Philadelphia. No one pushed heroin on anyone. Rather, users taught their friends how to use; in turn, those friends–now users–taught their friends, and so on. Heroin stealthily spread through personal networks. The only part of the process that was visible was the result: in the case of suburban college kids, bad grades and rehab; in the case of poor urban hispanics and blacks, crime and incarceration. Not surprisingly, when the heroin “epidemic” ended, it was not due to the war on drugs. Heroin simply fell out of fashion, in this case being replaced by another fashionable drug, powder and crack cocaine. Today we are fighting cocaine just as we fought heroin, and, by all appearances, with similar success. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

When I arrived at college in the early 1980s, drugs were cool, music was cool, and drug-music was especially cool. The coolest of the cool drug-music bands was The Velvet Underground. They were from the mean streets of New York City (The Doors were from the soft parade of L.A….); they hung out with Andy Warhol (The Beatles hung out with Maharishi Mahesh Yogi…); they had a female drummer (The Grateful Dead had two drummers, but that still didn’t help…); and, of course, they did heroin. Or at least they wrote a famous song about it. We did not do heroin, but we thought that those who did–like Lou Reed and the rest–were hipper than hip. I imagine we would have done it if there had been any around (thank God for small favors). We thought we had discovered something new. But as Eric C. Schneider points out in his marvelous Smack: Heroin and the American City (University of Pennsylvania Press, 2008), the conjunction of music, heroin, and cool was hardly an invention of my generation. The three came together in the 1940s, when smack-using bebop players (think Charlie Parker) taught the “Beat Generation” that heroin was hip. Neither was my generation the last to succumb to a heroin fad. The triad of music, heroin, and cool united again in the 1990s, when drug-addled pop-culture icons such as Jim Carroll (The Basketball Diaries), Kurt Cobain (Nirvana), and Calvin Klein (of “heroin chic” fame) taught “Generation X” the same lesson. History, or at least the history of heroin, repeats itself. For white, middle-class folks like me heroin chic was an episode, a rebellious moment in an otherwise “normal” American life. But as Schneider makes clear, the passage of heroin from cultural elites to the population at large was not always so benign, particularly in the declining inner-cities of the 1960s and 1970s. Here heroin had nothing to do with being cool and everything to do with earning a living and escaping reality. For millions of impoverished, hopeless, urban-dwelling hispanics and blacks, heroin was a paycheck and a checkout. The drug helped destroy the people in the inner-city, and thus the inner-city itself. In response to the “heroin epidemic” of the 1960s and 1970s, the government launched the first war on drugs, focusing its energy on “pushers.” But there were no “pushers” because–and this is the greatest insight in a book full of great insights–pushing was not the way heroin use spread, either among middle-class college kids or the down-and-out of New York, Chicago, and Philadelphia. No one pushed heroin on anyone. Rather, users taught their friends how to use; in turn, those friends–now users–taught their friends, and so on. Heroin stealthily spread through personal networks. The only part of the process that was visible was the result: in the case of suburban college kids, bad grades and rehab; in the case of poor urban hispanics and blacks, crime and incarceration. Not surprisingly, when the heroin “epidemic” ended, it was not due to the war on drugs. Heroin simply fell out of fashion, in this case being replaced by another fashionable drug, powder and crack cocaine. Today we are fighting cocaine just as we fought heroin, and, by all appearances, with similar success. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

When I arrived at college in the early 1980s, drugs were cool, music was cool, and drug-music was especially cool. The coolest of the cool drug-music bands was The Velvet Underground. They were from the mean streets of New York City (The Doors were from the soft parade of L.A….); they hung out with Andy Warhol (The Beatles hung out with Maharishi Mahesh Yogi…); they had a female drummer (The Grateful Dead had two drummers, but that still didn’t help…); and, of course, they did heroin. Or at least they wrote a famous song about it. We did not do heroin, but we thought that those who did–like Lou Reed and the rest–were hipper than hip. I imagine we would have done it if there had been any around (thank God for small favors). We thought we had discovered something new. But as Eric C. Schneider points out in his marvelous Smack: Heroin and the American City (University of Pennsylvania Press, 2008), the conjunction of music, heroin, and cool was hardly an invention of my generation. The three came together in the 1940s, when smack-using bebop players (think Charlie Parker) taught the “Beat Generation” that heroin was hip. Neither was my generation the last to succumb to a heroin fad. The triad of music, heroin, and cool united again in the 1990s, when drug-addled pop-culture icons such as Jim Carroll (The Basketball Diaries), Kurt Cobain (Nirvana), and Calvin Klein (of “heroin chic” fame) taught “Generation X” the same lesson. History, or at least the history of heroin, repeats itself. For white, middle-class folks like me heroin chic was an episode, a rebellious moment in an otherwise “normal” American life. But as Schneider makes clear, the passage of heroin from cultural elites to the population at large was not always so benign, particularly in the declining inner-cities of the 1960s and 1970s. Here heroin had nothing to do with being cool and everything to do with earning a living and escaping reality. For millions of impoverished, hopeless, urban-dwelling hispanics and blacks, heroin was a paycheck and a checkout. The drug helped destroy the people in the inner-city, and thus the inner-city itself. In response to the “heroin epidemic” of the 1960s and 1970s, the government launched the first war on drugs, focusing its energy on “pushers.” But there were no “pushers” because–and this is the greatest insight in a book full of great insights–pushing was not the way heroin use spread, either among middle-class college kids or the down-and-out of New York, Chicago, and Philadelphia. No one pushed heroin on anyone. Rather, users taught their friends how to use; in turn, those friends–now users–taught their friends, and so on. Heroin stealthily spread through personal networks. The only part of the process that was visible was the result: in the case of suburban college kids, bad grades and rehab; in the case of poor urban hispanics and blacks, crime and incarceration. Not surprisingly, when the heroin “epidemic” ended, it was not due to the war on drugs. Heroin simply fell out of fashion, in this case being replaced by another fashionable drug, powder and crack cocaine. Today we are fighting cocaine just as we fought heroin, and, by all appearances, with similar success. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

When I arrived at college in the early 1980s, drugs were cool, music was cool, and drug-music was especially cool. The coolest of the cool drug-music bands was The Velvet Underground. They were from the mean streets of New York City (The Doors were from the soft parade of L.A….); they hung out with Andy Warhol (The Beatles hung out with Maharishi Mahesh Yogi…); they had a female drummer (The Grateful Dead had two drummers, but that still didn’t help…); and, of course, they did heroin. Or at least they wrote a famous song about it. We did not do heroin, but we thought that those who did–like Lou Reed and the rest–were hipper than hip. I imagine we would have done it if there had been any around (thank God for small favors). We thought we had discovered something new. But as Eric C. Schneider points out in his marvelous Smack: Heroin and the American City (University of Pennsylvania Press, 2008), the conjunction of music, heroin, and cool was hardly an invention of my generation. The three came together in the 1940s, when smack-using bebop players (think Charlie Parker) taught the “Beat Generation” that heroin was hip. Neither was my generation the last to succumb to a heroin fad. The triad of music, heroin, and cool united again in the 1990s, when drug-addled pop-culture icons such as Jim Carroll (The Basketball Diaries), Kurt Cobain (Nirvana), and Calvin Klein (of “heroin chic” fame) taught “Generation X” the same lesson. History, or at least the history of heroin, repeats itself. For white, middle-class folks like me heroin chic was an episode, a rebellious moment in an otherwise “normal” American life. But as Schneider makes clear, the passage of heroin from cultural elites to the population at large was not always so benign, particularly in the declining inner-cities of the 1960s and 1970s. Here heroin had nothing to do with being cool and everything to do with earning a living and escaping reality. For millions of impoverished, hopeless, urban-dwelling hispanics and blacks, heroin was a paycheck and a checkout. The drug helped destroy the people in the inner-city, and thus the inner-city itself. In response to the “heroin epidemic” of the 1960s and 1970s, the government launched the first war on drugs, focusing its energy on “pushers.” But there were no “pushers” because–and this is the greatest insight in a book full of great insights–pushing was not the way heroin use spread, either among middle-class college kids or the down-and-out of New York, Chicago, and Philadelphia. No one pushed heroin on anyone. Rather, users taught their friends how to use; in turn, those friends–now users–taught their friends, and so on. Heroin stealthily spread through personal networks. The only part of the process that was visible was the result: in the case of suburban college kids, bad grades and rehab; in the case of poor urban hispanics and blacks, crime and incarceration. Not surprisingly, when the heroin “epidemic” ended, it was not due to the war on drugs. Heroin simply fell out of fashion, in this case being replaced by another fashionable drug, powder and crack cocaine. Today we are fighting cocaine just as we fought heroin, and, by all appearances, with similar success. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices