Since the birth of rock 'n roll, there have been those flames that burned too bright and died too soon. Janis Joplin, Jimmie Hendrix, Jim Morrison, Elvis Presley and John Lennon have all joined the ranks of music's most revered, not only for their talent while they were alive, but also for their untimely deaths that left millions wondering what could have been if only they had been given a few more years. As children of the 1980s, most of us never even lived to see these icons produce music; we have only heard stories from our parents and the press of what amazing music they made. They are the artists we grew up on. They have always been a part of our musical past. So when a three-piece band from Seattle surfaced on the national music scene in 1991 with an album dismissively entitled Nevermind, our generation began to realize what it was like to witness the creation of our own music history by a band led by a humble man.

The band was called Nirvana. The man was named Kurt Cobain. In 1991, rock music was dying. After the musical explosions of the 60s and early 70s, disco had nearly strangled the genre to death. Punk loosened the iron vice for a few short years, but the emergence of hair metal put rock back into critical condition. Suddenly bands like Poison, Whitesnake and Mitley CrAe were singing about strippers, sex and booze, all laid over the same three-chord progression and extraneous guitar solos. The music oozed of machismo and misogyny, practically dripping with the most revolting kind of testosterone. Power ballads became half-hearted attempts at showing a rock band's "sensitive" side, and the genre began to lose its meaning. As American music entered the 1990s, many were proclaiming that rock was dead.

Meanwhile, in the tiny industrial town of Aberdeen, Wash., a small band called Nirvana quietly released an album called Bleach in 1989. Comprised of bassist Krist Novoselic, drummer Dave Grohl and guitarist/singer Cobain, the band was a local favorite on the punk scene. But Cobain's lyrics held a rawness and sincerity that set Nirvana and their music miles apart from their peers. The band began to garner buzz after the release of "About A Girl," which enthralled listeners with Cobain's gravelly voice as it admitted, "I need an easy friend/I do/ With an ear to lend."

Lyrically frank and vocally understated, Cobain was a stunning change of pace from the overdone hair metal that dominated the mainstream. Where his competitors screamed and screeched, Cobain mumbled and muttered, allowing his words (though often relatively unintelligible) to do the work. He could get away with it, too, because Cobain was - above all - a brilliant lyricist.

Alternative radio stations like Washington's WHFS and Los Angeles' KROQ picked up Nirvana after the release of Bleach and a small buzz built up for the release of their 1991 breakthrough album, Nevermind.

Nevermind changed rock 'n roll as we know it forever. The barely intelligble lyrics and buzzsaw guitars of the album's first single, "Smells Like Teen Spirit," threw America for a loop. Conservative groups immediately railed against the band, calling them a threat to America's youth because of lyrics like "Load up on guns / bring your friends / it's fun to lose and to pretend."

They said Nirvana supported kids dropping out of school to use drugs, running away from home and a host of other problems. Music critics, on the other hand, praised the album and the band for this breakthrough work, awed by its mix of the heartbreaking and heart-stopping. Nevermind pulled no punches, mixing lyrics that were often lost and confused with music that alternated between the melancholy pull of songs like "Come As You Are" and "Polly" with the incredibly solid rock of "In Bloom" and "Lithium."

Cobain's lyrics were dazzlingly candid, the opposite of the rigidly masculine hair metal writers. Where before all the audience heard were details of the singer's sexual prowess, Cobain let listeners into his head. "I'm so happpy / because today I found my friends / they're in my head," he sang in "Lithium." He also tackled a surprising number of scenarios in his songs, from the apparent rape and torture of a girl in "Polly" to the party/mob scene of adolescents and young people in "Smells Like Teen Spirit" to homelessness in "Something In The Way."

Cobain didn't do it alone- Novoselic and Grohl were both excellent musicians in their own rights, and the combination of talent led to songs that weren't just emotionally innovative, but musically perfect. Every Nirvana song was catchy; they appreciated music as listeners, not just performers, which allowed them to be comfortable with crafting infectious pop melodies and music to complement and coat what were otherwise very abrasive lyrics.

Nirvana was propelled into the national and international spotlights. The press tagged along for tours, fans began hounding them at every turn and they began finding themselves on the covers of magazines and be featured on television specials. It went against every ethic the band had, but unlike the rest of their grunge counterparts (who began to enjoy more mainstream success), who openly and loudly proclaimed their hate for the music industry and the press, Nirvana just kept as low of a profile as they could and did everything in their power not to let it get to their heads. They were surprisingly successful.

Looking to placate a demanding public while giving themselves time to work on Nevermind's follow up at their own pace, Nirvana released Insecticide in 1992. It was a collection of demos, B-Sides and live performances of previously-released material, as well as some outtakes and unreleased material.

Then, in 1993, the band released In Utero. It was another smash hit, with critics and fans gobbling it up just as eagerly as they had Nevermind. "Heart-Shaped Box" and "Dumb" became popular singles, but the album really gained its notoriety because of one simple song. "Rape Me" caused uproar from conservatives, and several stores decided not to carry the album because of the song's title. Under pressure from their record company, Nirvana released another edition of In Utero which re-titled the song as "Waif Me" on the album art so as to not offend or frighten customers.

In Utero was darker, and news of Cobain's increasing struggle with heroin addiction and depression was becoming more common by the day. He was now married to the volatile Courtney Love, and had fathered a child, Francis Bean. To the fans following his every move, it seemed like every time something good happened to him, a disaster followed.

By the time Nirvana appeared on MTV's Unplugged series, Cobain was a worn and beaten man. His tiny slumped figure, protectively encased in a fuzzy green cardigan sweater, is an image burned eternally into American popular and musical culture.

Nirvana Unplugged in New York is the most popular album released by the band because of its introspective nature and eerie timing, released four months before Cobain's suicide. The stripped-down versions of "Come As You Are," "Dumb," "Polly" and "Pennyroyal Tea," and covers like David Bowie's "The Man Who Sold The World" floored audiences. Cobain's lyrics and the band's timeless music easily existed without distortion pedals or loud amps. But most poignant of all was the performance of "All Apologies." The quiet song echoed with sadness and hopelessness as Cobain asked, "What else should I be? / All apologies."
On April 8, 1994, Kurt Cobain killed himself in his Seattle home.

I was only nine that day, but I clearly remember wandering downstairs and flipping on MTV like a good little girl, only to see Kurt Loder's solemn face on the screen, announcing that Cobain's body had been found in his greenhouse, and that he was dead. I turned to my father, who was in the room as well, and said to him, "if this isn't true, I'll kill him myself."
I was angry, but I was also young and didn't really understand what had happened. In my neighborhood, along with neighborhoods around the country, dozens of teenagers held candlelight vigils in the streets, cried and listened to Nirvana at high volume. Love sobbed in a recorded message airedon television as she read Cobain's suicide note to the world. The music industry took a week or so to mourn. Some fans never recovered.

The decade following Cobain's death has had its highs and lows. The highs include the rise of alternative as a genre, the increasing interest in the indie scene, the musical innovations of genres like electronica and hip-hop, and the waves of international bands breaking onto the American scene. Low points have included "Nu Metal," "Rap Rock" and the decision by the music industry to focus on bands or groups that are profitable in the moment, instead of focusing time and effort on nurturing bands that display true talent and could yield many long-term rewards.

Artists and fans, frustrated by this sudden acceptance of this so-called "disposable music," have often wondered aloud what the music world would be like if Kurt Cobain hadn't killed himself. Some think he would have continued to produce genius music until he decided to retire. Others say he would have died somehow, some day-a talent like that just isn't meant to last. Others wonder if he even was that kind of talent, or if his death has propelled him to iconic status that he may not deserve. But Nirvana fans are extremely loyal, and continue to point out that Nevermind is still a staple of every "Best Rock Album" or "Best Album" list to be created since its release. Music critics still stick by their original assessment of the record as one of the most innovative and groundbreaking of the 90s.

Nirvana and Kurt Cobain still linger at the front of the public consciousness. Dave Grohl, who has gone on to enjoy immense success and fame with his band the Foo Fighters, still admits to missing Cobain every day. Novoselic, while deciding to keep a lower profile since Cobain's suicide, has echoed the sentiment as well. The two surviving bandmates engaged in a lengthy legal battle with Love over the final demos and recordings by the band. After many years in court, "You Know You're Right" was finally released to the public. It is, allegedly, the last recording Nirvana ever made.

Many consider "You Know You're Right" to be lyrical proof of Cobain's suicidal plans. With lyrics like "I will crawl away for good," "I always knew it would come to this" and "I have never failed to feel / Pain," it seems to be the ramblings of a man right on the edge. Maybe he was. Some contend that Cobain was happy and healthy in the weeks leading up to his suicide, after checking himself into rehab to combat his heroin problem. Those reports have fueled numerous conspiracy theorists to try to connect Love to what would then be the murder of her husband. No evidence compiled has been compelling enough to instigate charges.

The legacy of Kurt Cobain is not his death, nor his drug addiction, nor his depression, nor his pain. It is his music. His music has touched millions, opened hearts and minds and, most importantly, changed the very face of music as we know it. He is now sharing a throne with the rock 'n roll icons of the past. But unlike those mythical figures of times gone by, he is an icon that we knew personally. We saw his self-deprecating smile and heard his quiet, nervous laugh. We saw him compulsively ash his cigarette during interviews, and cuddle with his child on magazine covers. We knew him when he was green, and we saw him evolve. He is our icon, our hero. And 10 years later, we still miss him very, very much.