How a Band I Hated Saved My Life

The Fuze Magazine

     “Dude, you have Linkin Park on your iPod?” That’s a question I’ve been asked more than a few times in my life, and my response was usually something snarky or feigned confusion. In reality I didn’t really know why this band was taking up valuable space (now fourteen songs’ worth), at least not at first. Now, especially after yesterday’s tragic events, I think I know the answer. First, though, let’s give a little history of me, Linkin Park, and how that clickbait-y title is actually the truth. It’s a bit of a doozy.

     Linkin Park, in short, was the summary of everything I hated about the early 2000s in music. After the turn of the millennium everything in music took a downturn, and though pop and hip hop swiftly recovered, country music was decimated beyond repair and rock entered what I will call the “Post-Grunge Nightmare.” Everything was loud, emo and over-produced, and at best you would get okay bands like Evanescence and Seether (both of which have improved since), and then there were absolute embarrassments like Nickelback and Puddle of Mudd. Linkin Park had two extra bits that made me loathe it even more: the “industrial” sound and rap rock, two things I despise greatly. Chester Bennington was a sad, whiny white boy screaming way too loudly about problems that didn’t exist while his friend rapped about them. If I had grown up today I probably would’ve thrown the term “white privilege” around as well. I stopped being so hard on them when I finally reached adulthood and learned to appreciate bands that weren’t for me but weren’t terrible, but my initial view of them held true as well. What were they so upset about, anyway?

     Well, the answer to that question hit me hard yesterday when Chester Bennington took his own life at the age of forty-one. Suddenly, all those sad angsty lyrics took on a meaning I hadn’t considered before, and I felt ashamed of my earlier judgment. It was like that moment in Amy, the documentary on Amy Winehouse, where the filmmakers show the public ridicule and mockery she endured as her life spiraled towards its end. It’s a guilt trip moment, sure, but it works because the audience is forced to view her as a human and not a glorified punching bag. Seeing how she was treated was appalling, and what made it worse was how we all were in on it.

     That described my day of reflection for Linkin Park and Chester Bennington, though for some reason this hit me a little harder than some. No, I wasn’t as affected as when Prince or Bowie or Chris Cornell died, but I felt like I lost something important regardless. The question in my mind was how I felt so bad about the lead singer of a band I didn’t like. I mean, I’m not gonna feel this bad when the guy from Fuel dies, so why does Chester’s death get me down like this? Well, this is where the title comes in, as I realized to a lot of shock that Linkin Park has actually been a bit of a guide for me. Let me explain.

     Those of you who know me know I struggle with mental illness daily, and going through Linkin Park’s discography I found many familiar and relevant topics to my life. The band has covered many adult fears, like being forgotten (“Leave Out All the Rest”), becoming apathetic (“Numb”), losing control of yourself (“Crawling”), and many, many more. And those are just songs you’ve heard of! It’s a depth that I had never ascribed to them before, and listening to them now only makes me wonder how I could have missed it the first time. “Well, Steven, a lot of people missed the signs,” you probably say, speaking to your computer screen as if it’s a real person. “What makes you feel so bad about that?” Well, hypothetical reader, this is why:

     When the walls finally broke in my own life and I began wrestling with depression and anxiety, I was living these songs. I certainly didn’t understand the struggle at the time, and neither did my friends, teachers or parents, but this little band with the really obnoxious machine beats did somehow. Before I knew what depression was in real life, I imagined it was something like “Somewhere I Belong.” The fear of making bad choices and being ruined by them was what came to mind when I heard “What I’ve Done.” People often say, “Ugh, mom, *insert musician here* understands me!” as a jokey thing now, but here I am finding myself in that exact same situation. People who say Linkin Park helped them through things in life now have another member to add to that group, or maybe I’ve been in that group all along?

     For those who think I’m being a little overdramatic about this band’s impact, you may be right, but stick with me for a minute. We all know how influential media can be, and how it can often show us things we never imagined or help us understand things we don’t. When I think of goodness, I think of Superman, and when I think of evil I think of Darth Vader for those very reasons. When I think of depression, anxiety, self-loathing, all of those troubling and heartbreakers of emotions? I do think of Linkin Park, not because the music makes me feel that way, but because they showed me what it meant and helped me (even if it was subconsciously) prepare for it. And given how poorly I handled it, I can’t imagine how bad it would have been without their music. I guess it’s like one of those things God puts in your path that you don’t understand at the time, but sticks with you until you do. It’s a lot to put on a nu-metal band from the worst period of rock music, but it’s absolutely true.

     Chester Bennington was a good guy, from all accounts that I’ve read. He suffered one of the worst childhoods you can think of, being the victim of sexual abuse and bullying, and later went through addictions to drugs and alcohol. But he overcame those challenges, at least for awhile, and even refused to charge his abuser when he found out said abuser was also a victim of molestation! That’s a level of kindness, forgiveness and big-heartedness that most people can only aspire to, and does make me wonder why he ultimately chose to take his own life. Maybe his addictions returned, maybe the death of his close friend Chris Cornell affected him (Bennington killed himself on what would have been Cornell’s 53^rd birthday), or maybe it was something he never discussed. I didn’t know his demons, I just know that it’s a shame that he won’t be here anymore to see the impact he’s had on people, and that he poured himself into his music just to have assholes like me take a big crap on it.

     Lots of troubled people have put their demons into their art, from Chester to Kurt Cobain to Chris Cornell to Amy Winehouse to Jay-Z to pretty much any artist including yours truly. I just have to wonder why these signs are so hard for us to miss until it’s too late. Could someone have helped Chester had they detected the now-obvious hints that something was wrong? Was he crying out for help and having them fall on deaf ears? It’s a sad thought, but it’s an important question to ask, because if a world-famous star cannot reach help, what hope do the rest of us have? Well, there is a way, and that is to PAY ATTENTION to the people in our lives! If you think something is wrong, say something about it. Reach out to the person and try to help them if they need it. If they don’t have anything wrong, great, but if they do it could literally save a life. It’s up to us to help each other, and when we fail it carries heavy consequences.

     Regardless of all these questions and ponderings and recriminations, there is one truth: Linkin Park, for all my negative feelings towards it, was an instrumental part in shaping my battle with my own demons. It permeates how I think about it, fight it and even describe it to people. Without them, I might have turned out a lot worse, and I’ll never be so happy to have not liked a band ever again. Next time you hear that earworm that you hate, don’t try to get rid of it. I’m glad I didn’t.

     Rest in peace, Chester. I pray you find the peace that eluded you in life, and that wherever you are, you know that your music gave hope to many who couldn’t find it. It’s something I hope to say when my time comes, and something I will always strive for. Thanks for all the music, loud noises and all, and godspeed.