I am on a plain, I can’t complain. Or as a matter of fact I could, because I am afraid of flying, some kind of diffuse phobia I assume, as flying is so save, isn’t it? When things happen, they happen though.

Anyway, yes: The opening line of these musings is from Nirvana, groundbreaking, yet short-lived rock and roll band with blond, good-looking but sickly nostalgic frontman. The drummer, by the way, went to create the Foo Fighters afterwards, a somewhat boring but equally successful combo which also featured Kim Deal from the co-Seattle groundbreakers The Pixies. Ah, no sorry, That was not Foo Fighters, that was The Breeders.

Sorry, I am getting sweaty palms here and scattered thoughts. We are taking off. The stewardesses are already fastened, seeming slightly uneasy themselves. I never look them straight in the eye when airborne in case I can see the shadow of disaster darkening their irises. Quickly, think of something else, the engines are roaring.

The drummer Dave Grohl organises special treats for people who want to pay lots of money to have the ex-Nirvana members, obviously without the singer, but his daughter instead, perform for them and afterwards go to the tea salon of the ex-Smashing Pumpkins singer, I forgot his name, the bold head guy, and have a chat with all the old mates who were big in the 90’s. I wonder who actually spends money on this saddening endeavour and what would be the equivalent of the 80’s? Pilates brunch with Madonna? Strolling through Vienna with Falco’s daughter and meeting the remains of Spandau Ballet in a coffee house. Or Duran Duran? They were a bit cooler.

Few bands of the 80’s were cooler than the actual decade, which went flat under the weight of synthesisers and cocaine. Jeez, this is a bumpy start into the air. No unexperienced pilot I hope. The voice in the announcement sounded ok-ish. I can think of Talk Talk. Cooler than the rest. Timeless in a way. Weird stuff with an edgy voice. Or Ultravox, not the Midge Ure crap, but with John Foxx, who did this Underpass song afterwards and disappeared. Boy George maybe? Not really. Cindy Lauper? Yeah, more like it. Billy Idol? Never a real punk, but pretty good melodies and much better than co-GenX musician Tony James who ended up in this ridiculous Sigue Sigue Sputnik project. Was that Stock-Aitken Waterman too? Or Giorgio Marauder? Disgraceful.

We are up. Fasten seat belts sign off. Still shaky, but feels less paranoid. I need to do something about my phobia, I guess. Otherwise I will never get past 80’s pop music.