A tribute to Linkin Park, a generational touchstone

The mounting number of greats the music world has lost, and in quick succession, in the last decade is unthinkable. In no particular order, and just to name a few: Stone Temple Pilots’ Scott Weiland, Prince, Michael Jackson, Chris Cornell. Just the other day, after the shock of Cornell’s suicide was beginning to wane on me, in walks my brother with another bombshell: “The Linkin Park singer died,” he said. At that moment, I instinctively turned my head and averted my eyes, staring expressionless into space in disbelief before I shook my head and compulsively Googled Linkin Park in search of the evidential headline: “Linkin Park Singer Chester Bennginton Dead, Commits Suicide By Hanging” read the link to TMZ’s post. Just two months prior on May 17, Cornell was in his native Detroit seemingly excited to be at “Rock City” for a show, as noted in what became his last tweet when mysteriously, he passed away the following day of the same cause. Likewise, Bennington – who passed away on what would have been Cornell’s 53^rd birthday – was too, in the midst of planned gigs. The band was set to play Mansfield, Massachusetts the following week to kick-off Linkin Park’s One More Light world tour, which has since been cancelled by the band in the throes of their devastation. The grief of such a tragedy reminds me of when Avenged Sevenfold lost their drummer, James Sullivan “The Rev,” in 2009 of a reported overdose. And, not to mention, Nirvana, when the group lost Kurt Cobain in 1994 from suicide.

While Bennington was characterized in recent years with his dark shaven head, gauges and winsome smile, the Bennington that will always stand out to me was in Linkin Park’s heyday circa 2000 when he first emerged onto the scene -- his hair bleached and wearing glasses occasionally. Looking back to my middle school days, the band was a generational touchstone to a group of coming-of-age kids that I was blessed to be a part of. It was Y2K when Linkin Park first gained commercial success with their debut smash “Hybrid Theory.” I first discovered them like I discovered most other rock music at that time – through my older brother. He had “Hybrid Theory” on CD as well as Alien Ant Farm and Eminem’s “The Marshall Mathers LP,” among others. We used to play them on a small, plug-in boom box that had a built-in radio, CD and cassette player that my parents gifted me for my 12^th birthday. I remember picking up “Hybrid Theory” and seeing the words “Linkin Park” in bold lettering. Even the name carried power. I didn’t really start getting into them until I was 14. Their music – whose lyrics oft-portrayed themes centered on self-defeat, insecurity, unresolved emotional pain and inadequacy – resonated with a generation of teenagers, a number of which compose today’s millennials, myself included. In fact, when I think about my high school days, I think about Linkin Park. The band, as well as other popular nu-metal acts of that time including System of a Down, Limp Bizkit and Korn – all too often shared the sentiment of motivation music for lots of angst-driven teens and a lot of athletes needing to get psyched up to train or compete in a sporting event. I remember being on the track team and hearing “In the End” and Mike Shinoda’s deftly delivered raps blaring from a fellow track runner’s headphones on the bus ride to a meet. The somber playing of the electronic keyboards of “Crawling” sounded as the clank the weights would make as football players dropped the chrome bar after a fierce few rounds of strenuous repetitions on the bench press. I remember the personal significance 2003’s “Breaking the Habit” meant to me and hearing Bennington rage about confusion and the urgent need for self-improvement against the juxtapositon of delivering dulcet vocals and throat-scratching screams. The song’s release was the same year Elliott Smith, an all-embracing indie rock hero and my favorite solo artist of all time, had taken his life.

On the day Bennington died, I did what I believe every fan of his did: played the music. It took me back to the good old days, which also sparked nostalgia of when Audioslave’s “Be Yourself” came out in 2005. I used to watch the music video on TV before heading to school, much like I did Linkin Park’s videos. It was one of my favorite songs as it stressed the importance of being true to you because, despite feelings of imagined inadequacy, why would you want to be anyone else? To quote Cobain: “wanting to be someone else is a waste of the person you.” Bennington echoed this sentiment in “Numb” when he sang: “All I want to do is be more like me and be less like you.” I think this is a message we all have to heed because we are all beautiful, no matter our struggles. Eminem said it. Even Elliott Smith had a song called “Happiness.”

In a letter Bennington had addressed to Cornell after his passing which he shared on Twitter, he mentioned a few of his own personal thoughts about Cornell in particular, but are all too often a part of us all:

“… Your voice was joy and pain, anger and forgiveness, love and heartache, all wrapped up into one. I suppose that’s what we all are.”