the Nirvana tribute band I heard at this club the other night didn’t disappoint.
the lead singer sounded just like Kurt Cobain. he was beautiful and had hair like him, he moved like him, and even had the Mr. Rogers-style chunky green sweater.
every Nirvana song they played they totally nailed. it was amazing the way they could mimic each note, each cable, each instrument on the original recording. it was all … so nearly perfect. and everyone in the audience loved them.
but this amazing-sounding band wasn’t making their own sound. they were rewarded for sounding and looking almost identical to Nirvana. for being a near-perfect copy of the original.
they were crowd-pleasing. song after song, consistently on. but they didn’t have their own edge. they were copying Nirvana’s magic.
which isn’t to say what they did was easy. but to be brave and different and weird, that’s a different kind of hard.
when I play music for people I get those requests, to play something by some trending new band, or a NYC punk anthem, or that sad, pretty Nico song I know.
and I do, sometimes. but it’s not, you know, what I do. and when I do, I’m only being myself, in the moment. I’m not trying to recreate someone else’s sound or performance. because we have it already.
I’m more afraid of no one ever hearing me and listening to my songs than I am of disappointing a few people who were expecting something familiar off their Spotify playlists. when people aren’t into me, I move on.
because I know there are others, I’ve met them: there are a few people with an open heart out there who can’t wait to hear from me. so long as I’m bringing what I’m about, my own magic, that’s all that really matters.
cookie nieves 
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