I was a teenager living near Seattle during the early years of the grunge era. I never got to see Soundgarden live -- they were too big for the all-ages hole-in-the-wall venues I was going to, but not big enough for arena shows yet -- but the local music scene at the time had such a small town feel to it that even a band with an album on a major label and a video on 120 Minutes was still just made of the regular dudes you'd run into at the record store or in the mosh pit at a Coffin Break show, their names and faces woven into the backgrounds of your everyday memories.

Chris's death feels like the loss of a distant relative, the kind you only know from family reunions and the stories behind old photographs, but still can't help but recognize as one of your people.

Oh what the fuck?!?! I saw them on stage like 3 weeks ago.... Glad I went

I wonder if anybody does done a study on the health danger of working in the music industry, as opposed to (say) working as deep sea fisherman or underage transsexual prostitute.

Just think how much that study is skewed by the existence of Mick jagger and Keith Richards. Their long life alone (mathematically) balances Kobain, Hendrix, and Joplin.

It's much worse for hip-hop/rap musicians, for whom the main cause of death is homicide.

Ah. Outliers.

All the members of Aerosmith are still alive even though they really shouldn't be.

Contrast music industry with stage performers, expected always on at 120% capacity, requiring drugs to appear larger than life and so worth watching. Scotty, we need more power! *Scotty complies, takes more pills*

Don't forget Scotty's A&R rep, who can always "get what they need" as long as Scotty keeps producing.

I wonder if A&R reps retire when they can no longer appear young enough to buy illegal drugs. Once dealers start being suspicious they are narcs, they update their resume.

Achilles' choice: a short and glorious life or a long life of obscurity.

RIP. I was definitely a fan of Soundgarden in my teenage years. Although I never got too much into his post-garden stuff, I always respected him as a musician.

Well, fuck...

Hopefully he didn't go the Carradine/Hutchence route.

For a second I thought Clint Conley was dead. whew.

Self erotic asphyxiation is a bitch.