Twenty years ago today, MTV made its live report that Kurt Cobain had died. An entire generation – or more than one? I don’t know how often generations start up – has come of age since then. Cobain’s own daughter, whom the media still thinks about and follows around, will be 22 years old in a few months, the same age as me and many other fans of her father’s music, people who were not alive during Nirvana’s existence. It’s a little jarring to think that it has been a whole two decades since 1994, but you wouldn’t really know it to judge by the number of Nirvana shirts you still see worn by young people (myself included). There are many reasons why Life released an entire magazine devoted to the twentieth anniversary of Cobain’s death, but the main one is regret – we wish he were here so that the articles didn’t have to be written. Maybe he’s gone where the cold wind blows, to quote the Lead Belly song, but pop culture hasn’t forgotten Kurt Cobain and probably won’t for a very long time.