Does repeated talking about sadness alleviate the degree of sadness? Mike Shinoda, the founder, lead vocalist and creator of Linkin Park, gave many media interviews after the death of his good partner, Chester Bennington (March 20, 1976 – July 20, 2017), telling the story of grief and the process of "getting out of it", sharing and holding the great meaning of the group.
When I arrived in China, I asked him why he was like this, and he replied: "Yes, I asked for it myself, in fact, I can completely refuse all interviews." But the interview is very healing, I said over and over again, just to clarify what I think. ”
A few weeks after Chester's death, Nobunada closed his doors and seemed to have claustrophobia. However, on the eighth day, he went into the studio and began to make music, half of the time the lights were completely extinguished, and he floated in a surreal feeling. He grabbed his phone and recorded "Place to Start" in the tone of talking to people on the phone, and the most honest lyric was: "Feel like you are living in a story that has been written long ago / Am I a landscape created by someone else?" ”。
He began writing songs, shooting and editing music videos himself, and visually designing illustrations for his first solo album. "Grief is one person, so don't Leanin Park, don't Fort Minor."
Last October, the band's remaining members held a commemorative performance at the Hollywood Bowl, the band's first and so far only performance after Chester's death. The performance was difficult, and Shinda wrote another song called "Over Again" in between the performances, using his familiar pop + rap recipe to nail the pull that could not say goodbye into a black word.
A commemorative performance in the Hollywood Bowl
After slowly returning to professional thinking, Mike Shinda considered that "people don't like things that are too heavy", but still decided to release the three-single EP "Post Traumatic" first, and then hand over a full-length album of 16 songs on June 15. This year, he hopes to come back soon to meet you all.
The EP is out, and the protagonists of the three songs are All Shinda, telling the tension between himself on the verge of collapse and the noisy outside world. As a successful star, artist, partner, and investor, Mike Shinda is often considered a "successful businessman" rather than an "authentic artist." After the tragedy, people wanted to see chaos in him, to break his well-deserved public image, but they failed to do so. Probably because the self-discipline and self-protection mechanism he has cultivated for a long time is still working, and his heart is by no means weak.
In these songs, Nobuta is alone in the face of concern and suspicion from the outside world. His career of many years of hard work is hanging on the line, and he does not know whether "Lincoln Park" has a future, but no one cares about these things. He hadn't figured out how to face the core of his grief—Chester was dead after all. Perhaps it is necessary to salvage the messy feelings and write a song before we can go back to the old friend Chester and his twenty-year friendship.
Interviewers took turns, Nobunata was polite and patient, and some questions had been answered too many times. When the lights and shots were retreating, he chatted with Mike Shinda about something different—the band's original bus tour, paintings and new albums, views on death.
You think that the Lincoln Park people who play new metal and rap are all good guys, but in fact, they will panic when they stay at the motel. It's like thinking Mike Shinda's grief is too sane and inspirational, but who knows maybe he's really not indifferent, just sane.
Post Traumatic, to be released on June 15
The Paper: "Post Traumatic EP" is very roundabout and sad. Do you sometimes feel isolated from the crowd and have doubts and uncertainties about yourself?
Mike Shinda: Eight months ago, I felt like I had claustrophobia. I didn't want to go out for a few weeks, and when I went out for lunch one day, I felt like people were staring at me. There was also a strange man standing next to my car patting me and asking me questions. The feeling is disgusting. They just want to get the "story" and sell it for money.
Older people often worry that young people don't know how to communicate with each other, that they are afraid to communicate face-to-face, and that they rely too much on social media. I think the good thing about social media is that when real tragedies happen, it makes it easier for people to approach each other and show empathy. It makes communication faster and wider. The fans' solace to me, and the encouragement they gave each other, made the past eight months easier.
Close friends often met and met during that time, and frequent messages and phone calls helped me get through it.
Although it was very difficult to rehearse these songs over and over again, we decided to hold a commemorative concert. I feel it's our responsibility to show up and not let people feel like their emotions have fallen into a black hole. I want them to know I'm here and I'm listening.
The Paper: Did you write a song about this concert?
Mike Shinda: Yes, I wrote the rehearsal. When I rehearse, I think that every time we rehearse and sing these songs again, it's like going through all of them again. The first version of Over Again was written on the day of the show, and the second version was recorded the day after the show. I have never done such a thing, and I write pain and mental activity into the song without reservation.
The Paper: Do you dare to listen to the songs of Lincoln Park now? For a while I couldn't bear to listen.
Mike Shinda: A week or two after his death, the five of us gathered at David's house. He asked us, "Have you heard our songs?" "Everybody said no. He said he had tried, "It's hard, but once you do it, you'll find it to be able to withstand it." ”
On the way home I forced myself to listen. After a while I was able to enjoy the music, but at the right time. But if you're caught off guard, it feels like you've been hit by a car.
This feeling is not depression, but anxiety. It's not always sad, it's like being out of touch with reality in an instant.
Mike Shinda (left) and Chester Bennington
The Paper: Did you do the new album on your own?
Mike Shinda: Ninety-five percent of it was done by me alone, because grief is a very personal experience. Most of the music videos I have completed so far have been shot and edited by myself, which is very simple and does not use special effects. I want the distance between myself and my fans to be as small as possible, so they shouldn't look too glamorous. Many of the photos on the album were taken by friends, and I asked him to try not to do post-production, which would look unreal.
The Paper: After Chester left, you painted or made music, did anything change?
Mike Shinda: Maybe there is. I've been painting, abstract images, without names, like graffiti on a phone call. It's healing and helps me think and concentrate. On June 15th, my new album will be released, and these paintings will be included in it, along with three poems written by my wife. There will be some unfinished paintings in it, and I hope the fans will continue to complete them according to their wishes.
The Paper: After experiencing death, will your view of art change? After all, death is big.
Mike Shinda: I did a series of exhibitions called Glorious Excess, which was divided into two parts. The first part is fictional celebrity figures who are flashy symbols, and the second part is their death. After their deaths, their reputation grew stronger. Inspiration came from Paris Hilton, or Britney's shaved head, and Kurt Cobain and Michael Jackson. I don't know how my story will end.
At one point I thought about whether I should stop painting these skeletons, but the truth is, whether I paint or not, this is the truth that everyone will eventually encounter.
Latin culture celebrates death, and they embrace death as a fact that is bound to come. The celebration of death becomes a part of life, and it can be warm. Death is unavoidable, but it is also a mixture of joy and sorrow. I didn't want to run away from it, I preferred to run towards it. Maybe we should discuss this more honestly.
The Paper: What was the happiest time in Lincoln Park?
Mike Shinda: We've had a lot of happy moments, and it's complicated.
We had a motorhome on our first tour. They either crashed or were afraid to drive, so most of the time I drove. There are many happy times, and I often live in motels where drug dealers and prostitutes are infested, and I want to run away quickly, and then laugh again. The beauty of driving in the countryside at sunrise is also unforgettable.
There was also the first time I heard our song on the radio.
The Paper: Is the second tour already famous?
Mike Shinda: Not yet, the second time I drove my own motorhome, and the third time I started to have buses and drivers. There is a driver who is super terrifying and super fierce, and his temper is explosive at the touch, but it is also very funny.
The Paper: Why are you willing to accept these interviews, you know that the reporter will definitely mention Just, the pain is inevitable.
Mike Shinda: There will be silly questions, but I'm willing to answer them too, and I'd rather discuss them openly. I could turn down all interviews, but it's also an opportunity to connect with band members and other traumatized people. Being interviewed can sometimes help me clear my mind and discover what I really think.