
In The End, It doesn’t Even Matter
The Ways I wish Chester Bennington’s Music had helped him like it helped me
CW: Discussion of Suicide and Suicide Ideation
In no particular order my favourite Linkin Park Songs are: Carousel, In The End, The Entirety of Meteora, Numb/Encore, Bleed it Out, Hands Held High, Wretches and Kings, In My Remains, Burn It Down , Lies Greed Misery
I’ll Be Gone, Castle of Glass, Victimized, Roads Untraveled, Skin to Bone, Keys to the Kingdom, and Heavy. I cannot begin to list the times I’ve found/gone to/rediscovered these songs when I desperately needed them. Chester Bennington and his crew were a constant light in the darkness for me. There was this hope that things would be okay because I could always turn back to them when I needed to hear someone who felt like I do. It’s devestating that death became his only escape, that his music stopped working for him. All my love goes out to his family and friends in this trying time. To Chester, wherever you are now, I send one deep thank you.
The First Time I Heard his Screams
I first discovered Linkin Park in Grade Eight. It was 2005 and at the height of the band’s popularity. My relationship with music was a tenuous one. I was more likely to replay a Super Nintendo Game for an auditory experience than seek out tunes for my often forgotten discman. The songs I did like were the ones I heard my father listen to, and occasionally my mother. When Hillary Duff’s first non-Christmas CD came out, I begged for it and eventually I got it from my Grandmother. I remember the tranquil melodies and the rain-like trance it brought me into, but I was needlessly teased about it because people assumed I wanted to kiss the celebrity. Not even my father was exempt from that, so I stopped bringing Duff’s tracks to school. I would occasionally bring this one Doors CD, and another Tragically Hip CD, but these weren’t passions, they were just something to listen to when listening to the petty squabbles of middle-schoolers became too much to handle.
I’m not sure how I went as long as I did NOT hearing Linkin Park. Yes, my brother was much more into EDM, Rave Music, and top 40, and my parents were stuck listening to pretty much exclusively whatever was hip when they were a kid, but I wasn’t an unpopular child. I spent countless hours at many different friend’s homes, but I guess, those relationships never had listening to music at their core. That would come in High School. But, during English Class at the End of Grade Eight, we had an assignment where we had to trace the metaphors of a song through to its end. We had to do a presentation on it where we’d bring the song in, play it, and pause it and do this live presentation of what we thought the words meant, and maybe why the instruments sounded the way they did if we wanted extra points. This one kid I knew played Carousel. I’d never heard the song before in my life. I was transfixed. I needed more. I screamed in my head as he kept pausing the spinning CD, interjecting his analysis. I wanted on that turning ride, I wanted on it alone, and I didn’t want anyone but me to choose to stop it.
After that, it was like there was a switch in my life. Linkin Park was everywhere. Or Maybe it would be better to say, I noticed Linkin Park everywhere. Every time I got into a car, they were on the radio. Every store had them plastered on this or that Magazine. I begged and begged for an MP3 player from my parents, and during the summer, my father bought me a stack of CDs and my mother taught me how to burn mp3s to them. I was so happy. It wasn’t quite what I wanted, but it was a lot cheaper, and it got me Linkin Park off my Computer. Right away, I went to LimeWire and loaded it up with every track I could find. Some actually Linkin Park, some an oft mislabeled Evanescence Song. Later in life I would rebuy all those CDs from HMV as I learned the importance of financially supporting artists.
And then I had them. And I would not stop listening to them. I burned CDs to pretend to have their albums. I didn’t really understand where you went to to buy things in those days. When I was really young, we were so rich I would just ask for things and get them. And then we were too poor for me to have much of my own spending money, and everything I did have went straight to video games. But Linkin Park became this escape for me. I remember being angry at the world. I didn’t know why really, and feeling alone at times. But Chester’s screaming made it all go away. And then Mike Shinoda took the mic, and his rhymes helped me to learn to sort through ideas in calm, analytical ways. Even though I was popular, I was over weight and never could get the cool clothes. I never quite felt connected to others, there was always this wall between me and them. I would later realize that wall was hegemonic masculinity.
Like probably every anime obsessed weeb in the early 2000’s, breaking the habit became a personal anthem to me. It had waves of the voice of every shounen hero I idolized, but beyond that, it told me it was OK, to not be OK. It was okay if I didn’t want to fit in with the others, if I didn’t want to be the center of attention all the time. Almost every song the band has put out has had that message. Though their tones have changed, the meaning has really remained the same. Chester’s screaming told you that other people felt uncomfortable in their bodies, that feelings were “Crawling” in his skin and he didn’t know how to handle it. But he could grab a microphone and belt it all away. It would be OK.
Things began to get worse as middle school ended and the summer was in full swing. I spent most of that summer alone on a computer. Not because I wanted to, but because I was too anxious to actively seek hangouts. Beyond that, many friends moved, went to the beach for the summer, went to camps, or just generally became unavailable. Slowly my friends disappared but I still had Linkin Park. Things got really dark though. I remember spending hours sitting on a chair in the kitchen alone. Dad at work, Mom sick in bed. Holding a knife. My discman on repeat, asking me to scream out the pain. I knew things were changing, but I didn’t know how to handle it.
Grade Nine Began and I was trying my hardest to just fit in. I was scared. My high school was SO SMALL looking back on it, but to me, it seemed massive compared to the even smaller middle school. It also had the facade of an old castle, but this didn’t feel like Harry Potter. Teenagers were in my head my older brother. I did not associate that with being a “good kid though” for a lot of reasons. But he was going through his own troubles, so, Sorry for thinking so shittily of your 20 year old self when I was 13 Jer.
In my English Class, I thrived. I loved language and it was the only thing that really perked me up out of my funk. I sat next to this long haired boy who people often mistook for a woman. We became fast friends. I cared about school. He didn’t. But, it was okay. We connected. Our hearts seemed to beat the same tune, but just to a different melody. (Though, he would ask me to clarify that some doctors didn’t believe his heart beat, and called him a vampire. No, this is true. He has the receipts.) But if it wasn’t for Linkin Park, I never would have talked to him. Because, the first thing he asked me was what I had in my Walkman, and I don’t know if he would have been as excited about Hillary Duff as my lie, Linkin Park.
With this new friend, High School wasn’t so scary. Linkin Park became a bridge to the light. It was of Gothic architecture and everyone wanted tattoos and to wear blends of punk and weeb clothes. People dyed their hair, or wore it against gender norms, or just said fuck it, and went bald. But these Geeky, off centered musicians helped me find a base, “Somewhere I Belong” when I didn’t know where that was anymore.
Buying The CDs
After Grade Nine came and went, I drifted away from Linkin Park. I was brought into a world of a lot of bands angry about something or another. Three Days Grace, Three Doors Down, Green Day, Sum 41, Blink 182. If they weren’t mad, they were also sad. To my friends, I was a constant. I hadn’t broke the habit yet. I was an always smiling face. But these groups helped me sort through my feelings. The Wrestling team helped me sort through my Aggression.
Sometime between Grade 11 and 12, on a day off when I was roaming the mall I stumbled my way into HMV. My brain was awash with so many thoughts. Things were tough at home, I was constantly in screaming fits with my mother. I was dealing with all the weird social hierarchies of High School. The he said she said’s and all those emotions. I stumbled into the Rock Section. I flicked through countless CDs. And I stumbled back across Linkin Park. A Beat up Meteora sat there in front of Hybrid Theory and their new album, Minutes to Midnight. I remembered buying and Listening to Minutes to Midnight a lot at launch, but now it sat forgotten in my room. I grabbed them all and brought them to the counter, buying all three.
That night I sat in my room, typing away on MSN, to at least 30 different people. My brain racing as I listened to each CD over and over again. The songs blasting loud and strong out of my room. My speakers trying the hardest to make the roof shake, even a little bit. Things had been getting weird, and dark. These feelings reminded me Grade Eight. Everything was changing, but comparing and contrasting the three albums made me realize two things. One, Meteora was my favourite album so far. Two, and no matter how much things change, they stayed the same. The specifics, chord progressions, genre, might shift, but the meaning, the core was constant. And in the end, Nothing Else Matters.
A Thousand Suns — Learning The Depths of Bigotry
During my undergraduate degree, I was very excited for Linkin Park’s new CD. I had learned the cycle at this point. Thinks get dark, things get hard. Things change too much, but Linkin Park would be there when I needed them. I was realizing at that moment that Computer Science was not the right fit for me, and I was scared about Switching into Business. My Father was sick, and he was the one I went to for advice. I didn’t get into as many screaming fits with my mom, but at that point, our relationship was much more strained. I was scared, and felt progressively more and more alone.
I got this experimental, tranceish set of tracks and rushed home to my dorm to listen. I put it on and my roommates demanded I turn it off. They didn’t like the sound of the music, and endlessly insulted it to my face. My smile slowly fell away. They made things hard for awhile, but I was stuck in this loop of trusting them, it would take a long time for me to realize how much they negged me.
Respecting their Wishes though, I listened with headphones. Burned the songs to my MP3 player and went on long walks alone with them. A Thousand Suns was a symphonic adventure. I wasn’t sure where it was going, or why it was happening, but it helped me sort my heart from my head. And So, the “Carousel” continued to spin.
A Long Absence Ended by A Long Paper
I’m still very bad at learning about music. Even bands I like, I just don’t have the right channels to learn when a new album is on its way. Somehow I missed Linkin Park’s new CD in 2012. Which is a shame, it could have helped me a lot when my girlfriend turned down my marriage proposal and dumped me a month later. It took time, but I found solace in Rise Against The Machine. But it wasn’t until I was trudging through the end of my Undergraduate Thesis that I ended up discovering Linkin Park had two new CD’s at that point. I didn’t know how I missed this, but I had.
Quickly I listened to Both The Hunting Party and Living Things. The Hunting Party felt like a return to their roots. It felt stagnant. The problem I had was I WAS stagnate. It was the sixth year of my undergrad, and I was sick of being a student. I didn’t want the cycle of summers off and drudging through fall and winter semesters. Beyond that I had been working on the same sixty page paper for 6 months and I was so sick of my words, my ideas. I was mostly listening to podcasts at the time, but I dropped everything to listen to Living Things on my iPhone.
Something about Living Things just instantly spoke to me. It felt like a culmination of everything that came before. That was the way I felt about my Undergrad thesis when I started it. To hear an album that did the same with the bands work that came before that returning to roots really helped motivate me and wash clean the murky strands of the mire and murk of all the shitty internet discourse I was analyzing at the time. It was hard and it was tough, but these songs screaming, now weakly, about how hopeless they felt, to then on the next album scream loudly and refreshed helped. It reminded me again, you can get weak. It’s okay to go slow and take your time, everyone has their own pace. Everyone has struggles. And it’s okay to be upset by things.
One Last Light — The Release of one More Light
Some point in May, 2017 I loaded up Spotify on my Phone. I didn’t know what I wanted to listen to, but I wanted to listen to something. I had been craving music, but I wasn’t sure what. I got a notification though. Linkin Park had a new album out. I remember swelling with relief. That darkness was back. But, here it was, my escape One More time.
I was broke. I didn’t have a real job (still don’t). I didn’t know what I was going to do. I hadn’t paid my last term’s tuition so it would be months before I could officially get my Master’s Degree, even though I had aced my last course and earned it. I turned on that Album and got ready to rock out. I was faced with something much much different. And I was SO GLAD.
I honestly LOVE One More Light. Yes, it’s what every rock band’s doing now. It doesn’t have the rage or metal we’re used to or even the Newness of Nu Metal. But you can see the love, you can see the core themes, you can see Linkin Park Bleeding out of this album at all the seams. Sometimes we have to conform. When we do conform, it’s okay. We can still be ourselves. I was struggling hard with identity. What was I? Was I an academic? Was I a writer? Was I a film maker? What is Shawn. One More Light is a Linkin Park that was clearly in control of what Linkin Park was to them, regardless of what everyone around them screamed and raged they were. There was collaborations with new (to me) and interesting artists. New voices. New Sounds. Same Linkin Park.
It could be the same for me I realized. I had been struggling with these realities for the entirety of 2016 and most of 2017. I was not happy with the political state of the world. The economy was shit. And everything I did just seemed to make things worse. I was trying to be different, but I felt like a leech that didn’t belong. I was beginning to conform. and I didn’t like it. I didn’t know how to handle those feelings. And here was Linkin park. Mostly Mike Shinoda, but Chester too, singing about how they felt the same way. It was going to be OK. But, The Carousel stopped turning.
This piece was majorly inspired by this phenomenal piece on Vice. Further edged on the moving words of my dear friend Lee. I am not a medical professional and I will not pretend to be equipped to save lives. I’ve made it abundantly clear I barely know how to save my own. But I do know that I am hurting right now in ways I hadn’t thought possible to be hurt by the loss of a celebrity. There’s so many gross cliche phrases about this. You just don’t know what you have until it’s gone. I will keep on fighting without new tracks by Linkin Park, without Chester Bennington. But, the world lost a great artist this week. The world was hard and shitty and pushed him out, not providing the venues to get the help we need in the places we need it.
Mental Health is a fraught thing. We learn in life how to handle a person drowning. We learn who to go to with ease to aid a broken body. But a broken heart, a broken soul, a broken mind, we’re still working out the details. People scream in rage though if you suggest these things are equal, and strong stigmatization makes it hard for you even to trust your closest friends to be able to get you to the professionals you need at the pace you need to get there.
We need to do better. We need to keep having these conversations in earnest. We need to learn to help each other so we can stop putting the weight of the world on artists like this. I don’t know what truly made Chester feel like death was less scary than this world. I can’t imagine the pain his six kids and wife are going through. I can’t imagine the pain of the band members left behind the pieces. I hope these words, that this story of my relationship with this band can help others, but ultimately, I wrote this to help sort my feelings out. I’m just talking to myself. Chester isn’t here to hear my words, but I hope he can feel my thanks and greatfulness, along with so many other quirky weird misplaced kids around the world. I hope his family and band can heal without him. And I hope, he has peace now. I’ll try my best to stop leaning on them to break my own habit of relying on this group for my own strength. I’ll keep on moving because, we’re all just human, and that’s all I can do.
Thank you Chester Bennington. Thank you, and Rest In Peace.
