But now I realize it struck me so hard because the singer became unadulterated and transparent in this moment. In the ninth grade, I remember showing a friend of mine “One Step Closer”, laughing when we heard Chester repeatedly yell the words “shut up.” My reaction at the time stemmed from the concern his grimness would cause to the typical mother of a 14-year-old. Every song speaks largely of remembrance as well as struggle, with Chester’s voice pulling no punches emotionally.
The reality of what happened last week, stemming from his longtime suffering, adds a dimension to Linkin Park’s music that’s been there this whole time, but now reveals itself in full to listeners. His struggles with depression and alcohol addiction and distress resulting from childhood abuse are now - if they weren’t before - at the forefront of his art. If you’re reading this and are a fan of the band, I’m sure you had a similar introduction.īut the loss of Chester now brings to mind trauma that went back several decades. I may not be writing this article today if it wasn’t for that decision. When I was 13 years old, I found a copy of Hybrid Theory at a local bookstore and bought it on a whim. My first exposure to them was similar to most people my age. I thought about my co-worker who, after hearing the news about Chester, told me the story about how he secretly kept a copy of Reanimation in his sock drawer when he was younger.Įveryone has their stories involving Linkin Park, and Chester’s voice was at the threshold of their memories. I thought about my college roommate, a Chinese international student, who has been a big fan since middle school. They played in local metal bands throughout high school, and it’s obvious that Chester’s tenacity helped bring them into a whole new world of heavy music. I thought about my metalhead friends who had moved on to As I Lay Dying and Impending Doom by freshman year, yet still had Linkin Park in their iTunes libraries. I also thought about the girl on the team who knew every one of their songs to heart. I thought about when we all listened to “New Divide” for the first time and loved it. I thought about my friends on my high school cross country team who were into them and had their music in their warm-up playlists. Over the last five days, I’ve reminisced on all of the people I know who listened to Linkin Park. Often, you’ll get an artist who deeply affected many, but it’s rare when you get an artist who affected an entire generation.
They were the gateway to both genres for millions of young people, and perhaps emotional music in general - ask anyone under the age of 35 if they listened to Hybrid Theory growing up and rarely will you get a “no.” Linkin Park wasn’t the first band to mix rap and rock, but they effectively brought it to the mainstream. He fronted rock and roll’s crossover kings. The reason it’s so difficult to feel whole after the loss of Chester is because he brought a sense of comfort to millions of listeners - and I’m not exaggerating, as Linkin Park has had arguably the biggest and most dedicated fanbase in rock music over the past 20 years. It’s left behind for us to continue to experience, examining every tiny bit to try to feel whole again. In fact, they don’t know anything about one another’s existences apart from the one thing they have in common: their connection to the same art. While the death of a close friend or family member directly afflicts the ones closest to them, the loss of a cultural icon strikes a chord in people across the globe who have never met. The feeling of loss is much more spread out when a famous person dies. Our generation had many powerful voices, but there was only one voice like Chester’s: raw, relentless, and, most of all, honest. Anyone who’s been impacted by the music of Linkin Park understands. Instead, it’s going to slowly chip away at me, as it will the rest of us. The truth still doesn’t make sense as I write it, nor will it ever completely settle in. Chester, who fronted one of the biggest rock bands of the 21st century, tragically lost his battle with depression at age 41. None of us are prepared to write anything like this, and that’s because events like what happened last Thursday are rarely so heartbreaking.
He’s right, as I don’t know how to start this kind of piece.
“Sometimes beginnings aren’t so simple,” Chester Bennington sings in Linkin Park’s 2007 hit “Shadow of the Day”.