Chester Bennington
It was sometime in 2002, I was at my friend’s house. We were goofing around around on his computer, when he showed me a music video he had downloaded on Limewire. It was clips from Dragon Ball Z, set to some rock music I’d never heard before, mainly because I had only really listened to pop music at the time. If he had told me the song and band name then, I had completely forgotten. Before accessible internet, I had no way of knowing on my own.
I guess it’d have to be a year later, when I paid more attention to MTV, when Linkin Park finally reappeared on my radar. This was it, they were definitely that band I didn’t know the name of! I ran over to Kmart as soon as I could scouring the shelves for Linkin Park CDs. I eventually came across Meteora, which, I didn’t know, was new at the time. I thought it would have the song I’d been looking for, from that DBZ AMV!
It didn’t. Turns out I was looking for “One Step Closer” from Hybrid Theory. Go figure. It would be another year of repeated trips to Kmart and other stores, and a copy of the remix album Reanimation, before I finally found a copy of Hybrid Theory, but I guess it makes sense that a diamond-certified debut album would be hard to find!
It all happened backwards, but it all happened at the perfect time. Middle school is the most spectacular whirlwind of the worst events and feelings you could possibly experience at that age. And when you’re that young, that’s when you find music, and you find the artists that are, more often than not, going to stick with you for the rest of your life. Linkin Park was far from the only band in the block, but their particular alchemic brand of nü-metal resonated in more hearts than any other band could, putting a face on faceless struggles so that we could confront and conquer them. A band whose synergistic perfectionism of multiple styles took a genre as kitschy as rap-rock and meticulously calibrated it to make it feel universal. After pioneering an entire movement, they refused to be pigeonholed and made great, risky strides with forays into alternative and electronic music, not to mention an expectation-defying mash-up project with the biggest rapper alive. Theirs was the sound of anger, fear, isolation, any raw and pure emotion you could feel. A sound that permeated and echoed middle and high school hallways, parking lots, mosh pits, and even the solitude of one’s own bedroom, almost endlessly. I remember seeing Linkin Park win Kids Choice Awards for Best Rock Band and for songs like Faint, realizing that there are way more kids out there that like this than I thought…way more kids that are just like me. More kids that maybe listen to them for the same reasons I do, or for even more reasons than I do. Chester Bennington carried all of that, all of us, on his shoulders.
Chester. The inimitable vocal powerhouse whose thunderous screams and soaring melodies soundtracked adolescence for me, you, and countless others. His voice was as recognizable and revered as they come. I remember blasting Hybrid Theory in my CD player and singing along to every song, exceptionally tone-deaf to my mother’s chagrin. I must have at least gotten better at singing, since I was voted best male voice in my high school yearbook. But Chester Bennington?! I still could never. His was a guiding voice that took from his own struggles and transformed his pain into a beacon of light for our stormy nights. He was one of a kind, remarkably so. He represented so much to so many, and for a while, he was that much, sometimes everything, to me too.
It’s been a weird day. I’ve been running back songs I listened to and loved as a preteen and teenager in my head, songs that suddenly bear a whole new weight, in both hindsight and present. It’s been a rough day as well, as I’ve been fighting back tears for a good portion of my time at work. My mind feels cluttered, and my heart is heavy. It’s a position I’m familiar with, and one I’ve gotten out of with help from people like Chester Bennington. It’s a strange pain, one I will solemnly bear for a little while.
Depression often has no signs, no signals, no warnings. Acts of depression can sometimes occur just because. What we can do to honor Chester and all who have lost to depression, especially those who have turned their depression into a tool to help others, is to pay it forward and help others in turn. Lend a hand, and an ear. Let your friends, family, and loved ones know that they are never alone. Remind them how loved they are, every chance you get. Kindness and engagement make more of a difference than you know.
Rest In Peace, Chester. I’ll miss you.
