When Kurt Cobain died, people flooded the streets with sadness. They mourned his death like they knew him and like they were feeling the real pain of losing a loved one. Because they felt like they were. I was born in ‘95, however, so I had never actually seen an icon or idol make that sort of an impact … until Prince died. I was in the very peculiar position of not only living in Minnesota and not being a terribly huge fan of Prince, but also being located in the same vicinity as (possibly) his biggest fan. Prince’s tragic death sent people back into the streets. People mourned his death, people celebrated his life, and people felt real, crippling loss. A friend of mine, who is the biggest Prince fan I’ve ever known, got hit hard. Hard enough that when our group of friends found out individually of Prince’s death the first thing we thought was, “Oh god … is he ok?” (“he” being the friend in this instance, of course).

Time passed, people had time to cope, and then I found myself sitting in a room with another friend listening to Bob Dylan. We talked about how old he was and then this friend said, “Oh god! I would be done for if Bob Dylan died. You know how our one friend feels about Prince? That’s me with Bob Dylan.” This actually led me to a realization of my own: I do not have a favorite artist. There is no musician or band that could die that would send me spiraling into a deep rooted despair. This further led me to assess my own appreciation of music and artistry as follows:

1. What’s wrong with me?

2. How do other people connect with artists that much?

3. What’s wrong with me?

Spoiler alert! No. There’s nothing wrong with me. In a conversation with another friend (cause that’s the only thing I have for reference, apparently) we discussed how these people probably had a deep connection with these artists because they grew up with them. The artists themselves are incredible and worthy of having people completely attach to them and their work, but there’s an air of nostalgia to it. The artist became a staple for their listening habits which then meant that their music accompanied many moments in that person’s life, causing the moments and the artist to practically live as one. I personally remember listening heavily to The Beatles when I was growing up, and maybe that’s where my issue lies. Not only have I found myself musically as I got older, which led me a bit away from The Beatles (though they’re still amazing and I love them), but I also think that if they were to be the band for me I wouldn’t have that moment of mourning because half of them are already dead and the other half aren’t even in a band together anymore.

The Beatles are long done and, maybe, so is my chance of feeling that kind of a connection. I couldn’t help like feeling I was missing out on something, but then I had a further conversation with that most recent friend. They said they also didn’t connect so much to artists as much as they did to albums, and that totally made sense to me, but that’s also not something that I have because, until recently, I wouldn't listen to full albums. The closest thing I could think of was Green Day. I used to listen to "American Idiot," "Dookie," and "21st Century Breakdown" (yes, "21st Century Breakdown") over and over in their entirety. I don't want Green Day albums to be my connection! They aren’t because I’m an adult human with the ability to decide those sorts of things myself.

So I sat without a favorite band, without a favorite album, and without a burning care for any artist, at all. Then, my friends released an EP and it reminded me of hearing them playing their hearts out on those songs live. Then, some other friends released a different EP and that reminded me of the times they showed me those songs as they were writing them. I don’t find my connection in musicians I don’t know because I think I will always have that disconnect, but I have the luxury of being surrounded by brilliant, passionate musicians. I have my moments in live performances watching my friends lay everything they’ve written, vulnerably out in front of the world hoping for any sort of connection. That’s something special that I have.

Maybe I won’t feel the shock of Paul McCartney’s death. Maybe I won’t flood the streets for Billie Joe Armstrong, but someone else will and that’s awesome. No, I do not have a favorite band. I do not have a Prince, and I do not have a Bob Dylan, but that’s fine and there’s probably nothing wrong with me.