After the Music Stops, Who Saves the Musician?


If there’s one thing that hard rock, grunge, nu metal—whatever you might categorize it—does well, it’s drawing up every thorn, every slash of angst that digs into everyone at some point in their existence.

While some drown the pain or attempt to irgnore it, rock musicians drag the drowning skeletons from the deep, holding them up for all to see. And that’s always been rock’s calling card: a catharsis rather than a cover-up of all the brokenness.

Bands like Korn charged onto the rock scene in the mid 1990s, carrying every shred of agony with them to the stage, and people responded. Korn’s frontman Jonathan Davis sang, serenaded, and screamed lyrics that drew fans with the same kind of agony. Korn didn’t inoculate its fans from the agony; no, the band’s lyrics meant to give a voice to the agony, to give people a go-ahead to put a hand over their scars and realize they were still there, still alive even though they knew what it was like to have their hearts bleed.

Korn’s 1994 hit single, “Blind” illustrates why so many gravitated to hard rock.

Deeper and deeper and deeper
As I dream to live a life that seems to be a lost reality
That I can never find a way to reach my inner…
Self-esteem is low, how deep can I go in the ground that I lay?
If I don’t find a way to see through the gray that clouds my mind
This time I look to see what’s between the lines

 Everyone’s seeking their way home, a way to surface from whatever skeletons and injustices have plunged them into a confused, numb existence. Artists like Kurt Cobain and Chris Cornell articulated the hopelessness that snuffed out so many around them.

Fans sang their songs and thought them their voice, their inspiration—even their medication. For kids like me born in the late 1990s, we grew up listening to bands who drew their inspiration from guys like Cobain and Cornell. For instance, my favorite band, Breaking Benjamin, cites Nirvana as one of its strongest influences.

But what happens when the music stops, when the musicians who gave a voice to so many fans, have to reckon with their demons? Who grabs the mic, the guitar, and the pen and notepad from them? Who reaches the singers who sing for the broken when they themselves have lost their way?

Kurt Cobain committed suicide in 1994. Chris Cornell did the same in May 2017. This July 20th, Chester Bennington, singer for Linkin Park, took his life as well.

Seeing these pillars take their lives has shaken a lot of rock fans. These men, the very same guys who penned lyrics that awoke people from their torment, snuffed out their own lives.

One thing remains certain. No one will listen to Soundgarden’s (Cornell’s band) “Black Hole Sun” again without a slight quiver in their throat.

Now, with Bennington’s suicide, how can fans not hear Linkin Park’s “In the End” as an eerie anthem, an almost prophetic euology?


I tried so hard
And got so far
But in the end
It doesn’t even matter
I had to fall
To lose it all
But in the end
It doesn’t even matter

 But it does all matter to the fans, especially in the end. When bands are on stage playing, headbanging, and harmonizing all their pain, all the fans headbang right along. But they all secretly hope there is a redemption, a restoration on the horizon.

Because there has to be better days ahead after all the pain.

That’s why no one wanted to see Cobain, Cornell, or Bennington kill themselves. All of those who enjoy rock music have either followed them or followed bands who’ve been influenced by them. Those three wrote and sang what their fans felt, and for those that mourn their passing, it’s harrowing to know the songwriters who helped so many couldn’t find hope in the end.

But there’s another headbanger in the rock world who holds a hope that most fans would never approach on their own. Korn guitarist Brian “Head” Welch was addicted to meth amphetamines, struggled with anger, and battled self hatred, depression, and suicidal thoughts.

And then he found Jesus.

Welch thought Christians to be uptight and out-of-touch, but when a friend invited him to church, he decided to give it a try, knowing he had to get clean for his young daughter.

Church was not what he expected. Former gang members worshipped freely and the pastor preached a message that said, in essence, “Don’t try to clean up all your baggage and then come to Jesus. Come to Jesus with all your baggage and He’ll transform you.”

Welch went on to have intense encounters with God and experienced a transformation. He ditched the amphetamines, found peace in Scripture, and discovered his value in God’s eyes.

At times, the transformation in his life was rapid; other times, he had to walk by faith and battle his demons like any other Christian.

In 2013, he returned to Korn after a nearly eight year absence, having left in 2005. Christians wondered, “Why would he go back to that scene?”

His answer is in his post-show routine. He will have security pull 40 or so fans for a post-show meet-and-greet where he will share his testimony and pray with those willing. Korn bassist Reggie “Fieldy” Arvizu, a Christian himself will often accompany him. Welch sees Korn fans come to Christ and prays with the broken and hopeless, all the fans who come to the concerts to find a voice for their agony.

While most wouldn’t think Christianity and hard rock have no shared interests, the similarities between the two are closer than you might think. A good portion of Korn’s lyrics, along with those of other popular bands, echo the desire for better days, a hand to wrench them away from the suffering. Rock sounds like David crying out to God in the Psalms or Job wondering when the misery will end or Jeremiah weeping in Lamentations.

Whom did Jesus seek out when he walked the earth? He extended mercy to the outcasts, the sinners, the self-haters, the hopeless looking for a hope.

Jesus would be at those rock concerts, preaching and praying over the physically bruised, mentally anguished, and spiritually destitute.

He wouldn’t just reach out his healing hands to the headbangers in the crowd either. He’d open his arms to the Kurt Cobains, the Chris Cornells, the Chester Benningtons.

In fact, he stretched out his arms on a cross for our all our torment, agony, and evil. And He’s still speaking today. He’s using His Holy Spirit to work through men like Brian “Head” Welch, who’s felt the affliction to the fullest, yet encountered Christ’s light in all his darkness.

He can do that for those fans who’ve wondered what happened to their heroes, who are searching for a savior.

He can do that for the musicians who’ve found that even their own  lyrics can’t provide the healing they’ve longed for.

He saved Brian Welch from himself, and He will save you too. He doesn’t want a stranger or friend or family member to open the door and find you hanging like Cornell and Bennington. He loved those musicians with such an intense love, and He did not desire that to be their end.

But God gave us a choice, the free will to determine our course of action.

So question is, “What will you choose in the midst of your agony? Where will you turn when you find that you can’t find yourself on the other side the pain, when the music isn’t enough anymore?”

But don’t take it from me. Take it from Brian Welch that music gives us a voice, that God can speak through broken people with microphones, a few guitars, and drums. And when songs like “Black Hole Sun” and “In the End” plead for someone to trust in and wash it all away—God hears those cries and is ready to hear your story and save you from yourself.

Kevin Cochrane is a writer and college student. Like what you read? Follow him on Twitter @RunFree_KC, find him on Facebook, or click the follow button at the bottom of the page to get Town Crier’s latest updates. Want to read more? Visit his blog at which offers a Christian perspective on the surrounding culture. You can contact him with comments or questions at








Good Guy, Good Goaltender: Goodbye, Marc-Andre Fleury


We won’t forget you, Flower.

None of us will forget you flicking your glove like a switchblade during Game 7 of the 2009 Eastern Conference Quarterfinals, robbing Alexander Ovechkin on a breakaway. And how could any of us lose sight of you plowing across the crease, deflecting Nicklas Lidstrom’s snap shot in the waning moments of Game 7 of the 2009 Stanley Cup Final.

Others might dismiss those moments in favor of your playoff struggles from 2010-13. They’ll remember you losing your job to Thomas Vokoun in the 2013 playoffs. They’ll call you flighty, leaky, shaky, rattled—a whole host of unflattering adjectives.

There’s no doubt you had your share of soft goals and flubs over the years, but a similar charge could be levied at the Penguins’ team defense during the latter period of the Dan Bylsma era. More than anyone else, you took the early playoff exits and the unsteady play to heart, because you weren’t just in it for yourself.

You’ve won the team “Player’s Player Award” in back-to-back seasons (2014-2015, 2015-2016), so you did not take these trials lightly or think solely about yourself.

We saw it too, after each goal during that 3 year stretch, where you’d skate a loop by the side of the net, shaking your head.

But that’s not the end of your story.

When the Penguins hired new goaltender coach Mike Bales in 2014, he helped bring a maturity to your athletic style. But unfortunately, as you succeeded, the team did not. The Penguins floundered, played pinball hockey under Dan Bylsma that often left you the lone man defending odd-man rushes. Then came Mike Johnston’s conservative approach, and you still had to stand on your head, because goal support was never in excess.

Yet during the 2015-2016 season, you stood in the gap from October through December, as the team careened of the precipice under Mike Johnston. When Mike Sullivan assumed command, you simply kept playing the role of consistent goaltender, posting a .921 save percentage.

And just when the team began to process Sullivan’s system and string together wins, you took a James Neal wrist shot off the mask and suffered a concussion. And the rest is history. Matt Murray won us a Stanley Cup, and suddenly, Murray, the goaltender of the future, became the goaltender of the present.

During the 2016-17 regular season, Sullivan established Murray as his starter, and you languished as trade rumors hung over your head like a hangman’s noose. You could have played the victim and tossed out a few snide remarks or backhanded compliments about your situation to the media. But you didn’t.

Your professional conduct reminded the fans and media that character does matter. You continued to mentor Matt Murray and carry yourself as the consummate pro.

And then, fifteen minutes before Game 1 of the first round, Matt Murray reinjured a torn hamstring during warmups, and you got your cold call.

In an ironic reversal, you were the stopgap behind a battered and underwhelming defense. You made 49 saves in a Game 5 win, which eliminated the Columbus Blue Jackets. For the duration of the series, the Penguins spent a considerable amount of time hemmed in the defensive zone, but you didn’t get rattled.

The same could be said of the Pens’ second round series against the Washington Capitals. Our defensemen could not break the puck out of the defensive zone consistently, and again, you had to make more than your fair share of saves. The series went to seven after a Game 6 thrashing at the hands of the Capitals. But in Game 7,  you posted a shutout, and for the first time in the playoffs, the Penguins looked like the Penguins of old.

We won’t forget the save you made (again) when Alex Ovechkin could have tied the game at 1. With the knob of your stick, you deflected Ovechkin’s blistering snap shot into the stands, then rubbed the shaft of your stick as if you were racking a shell in a Smith & Wesson double-barreled shotgun.

So we advanced into the Conference Finals against the Ottawa Senators. It looked as if you would be able to write your Hollywood script—the snake-bitten goaltender gets his redemption and glory in the Stanley Cup Final.

But that was not to be.

You gave up four goals in Game 3, and the team couldn’t have looked worse around you. Head Coach Mike Sullivan and the rest of the coaching staff (Rick Tocchet & Jacques Martin) opted to go with a healthy Matt Murray, who was the starter going into the playoffs.

We won the series and won the Stanley Cup, and no doubt it was agonizing, even infuriating, to watch from the bench once again, knowing that you contributed 9 of the necessary 16 wins to capture the Stanley Cup. No doubt you were displeased and thought you earned the chance to finish out the playoffs as starter.

Yet you remained a good teammate, because your “the Flower,” the guy whose team selected you for the “Aldege ‘Baz’ Bastien Memorial Good Guy Award” twice.

You put the team before your feelings, and never generated controversy, no matter what your opinion might be.

Good guys are supposed to do good things, so after you took a well-deserved lap with the Stanley Cup, then handed it to the only teammate that a good guy in your position would hand it to—Matt Murray, the kid who played so well when you got injured, that the team won a Stanley Cup, then another one.

We won’t forget that image. Fleury and Murray. Fleury passes the Cup to his successor.

And now you’ll move on, because that’s what you want; that’s what you’ve earned. Since you became the starter in 2005-06, you’ve been our good guy and good goaltender. Now, you’ll be Las Vegas’s, a good guy in Sin City.

And there’s one image I won’t forget of you, Flower. It’s in the handshake line after Game 6 of the 2008 Stanley Cup Finals, after the Red Wings took the Stanley Cup in our building. At ten years old, nearly shedding tears because the Pens were so close to forcing a Game 7, I remember hearing the Pittsburgh crowd chant through the television, “Fleury! Fleury! Fleury!”

That nearly captures you. You often played your best, but it was as if the stars refused to align for you. A concussion sent you to the sidelines, and a younger, less-costly goaltender won two cups in your wake. Sure, people will quip, “That’s the business,” and shake their heads solemnly, but good guys like you don’t make it easy to see you go.

Your loyalty enamored a lot of Pittsburgh, and watching you play in another uniform will evoke a lump in Pittsburgh’s throat and more than a few memories.

So here’s a better image, a proper one for us to remember you by. It’s you hoisting the Stanley Cup after Game 7 of the Finals. Only a year after Chris Osgood hoisted the Cup in your building, you got to do the same in Joe Louis Arena.

We won’t forget you, Marc-Andre Fleury. The Flower, the prankster, the goalie swimming in the blue paint, lunging, darting, snatching Ovechkin’s one timer from the left dot—that’s who you’ve been for the fans.

Here’s the final image. Josh Yohe, Penguins beat writer for, tweeted on Thursday, “When locker clean out day was over, every member of the media lined up to shake Marc-Andre Fleury’s hand. He’s in a class of his own.”

So thank you, Flower. How could we ever forget you?

Fleury! Fleury! Fleury!

Kevin Cochrane is a writer and college student. Like what you read? Follow him on Twitter @RunFree_KC, find him on Facebook, or click the follow button at the bottom of the page to get Town Crier’s latest updates. Want to read more? Visit his blog at which offers a Christian perspective on the surrounding culture. You can contact him with comments or questions at




It Is Finished: Pens Grab Back-to-Back Titles

For the length and breadth of this Stanley Cup Final, the national media fawned over Nashville’s arena atmosphere, heaping upon it the same aura they do when talking about Jonathan Toews’ leadership.

But Smashville suffered a Steel City Invasion, the kind of invasion that hushed the whole of Bridgestone Arena’s collective vocal cords.

Because that’s what these Pittsburgh Penguins do. They just play, no matter the circumstances. No matter the fact that Kris Letang, their top d-man, never touched playoff ice due to neck surgery. No matter that Matt Murray ostensibly pulled a groin fifteen minutes before Game 1 of the 1st round against Columbus. No matter that the defensive corp struggled to break pucks out. No matter that they were stretched to seven games against Washington and Ottawa.

No matter what, the Penguins just played. And they just won their second straight Stanley Cup Finals.

The Pens’ roster, laden with talent, delivered virtuoso performances. Evgenie Malkin finished with a stat line of 10 goals-18 assists-28 total points. Crosby followed with 8G-19A-28TP. Phil Kessel ended with 8G-15A-23TP. Jake Guentzel, the rookie wonder kid, had 13G-8A-21TP.

That’s production from your big-earners, and it manifested as the Stanley Cup Final stretched deeper.

We are in the golden era, for from 2007-2017, a decade of excellence has capped itself off with back-to-back titles. Enjoy the riches, Pittsburgh. Gawk at the talent. Crosby. Malkin. Kessel. Guentzel. Savor the character. Cullen. Hornqvist. Kunitz. Salute the coaching staff. Sullivan. Tocchet. Martin.

Many will claim, “It’s just a game!” Well, is your favorite movie, “just a movie”? Is your favorite novel “just a novel”? Is your favorite theatre production or favorite comedy special or favorite Netflix series “just that” to you?

Whether art imitates life or vice versa, the redemptive contours of this playoff run have led the Penguins to back-to-back titles.

Defenseman Ian Cole played with a fractured hand and a fractured rib.

Defenseman Justin Shultz played with a broken rib.

Right wing Patric Hornqvist, who scored the game-winner, played with a broken right hand and finger.

Defenseman Brian Dumoulin has reportedly played with a back injury all throughout these playoffs.

It’s more than just a game to them.

Pittsburgh, the Steel City, is blessed beyond recognition. We are collecting new hardware, dancing with Lord Stanley in consecutive years. Our privilege is to watch generational talents like Sidney Crosby and Evgenie Malkin take over games and go 1-2 in playoff scoring. We watch as Crosby receives back-to-back Conn Smythe trophies.

And we witnessed sterling character from a goalie who’s remained loyal to his team. Marc-Andre Fleury handed the Cup to starting goaltender Matt Murray.

The Penguins could not have captured their second consecutive title without the contributions of either goalie.

Soak up the glory, Pittsburgh, because iconic moments are but a fleeting shadow, only passing over for a stitch in time. So for now, all of Steel City stands in awe of the hardware.

Kevin Cochrane is a writer and college student. Like what you read? Follow him on Twitter @RunFree_KC, find him on Facebook, or click the follow button at the bottom of the page to get Town Crier’s latest updates. Want to read more? Visit his blog at which offers a Christian perspective on the surrounding culture. You can contact him with comments or questions at



Is Jake Guentzel a Conn Smythe Contender?


Jake Guentzel served as Phil Kessel’s stick boy when Kessel attended the University of Minnesota. Guentzel’s father was an assistant coach for the Golden Gophers at the time, and the pre-teen Guentzel inevitably hung around the rink. Thus, during games, Guentzel was responsible for getting Kessel a new stick during games when one snapped. Continue reading Is Jake Guentzel a Conn Smythe Contender?

We’ll Take It: Penguins Snatch Game 1 of the Stanley Cup Final

I don’t care who should have won, who might have won, or who deserved to win Game 1 of the 2017 Stanley Cup Final. I’m concerned with who did win. And the Pittsburgh Penguins grabbed the game last night, despite their foibles and fault lines. Continue reading We’ll Take It: Penguins Snatch Game 1 of the Stanley Cup Final

Watching Game 7 from a Hospital Bed


A hospital attendant rolled me down the hallway into a spacious physical therapy room. Fresh off of spinal fusion surgery, I waited my turn for a physical therapist to work with me on the simple things: getting out of a chair, walking, and climbing stairs. After such a surgery, which includes cutting through muscle, bone grafts, and rods, every patient requires daily PT post-operation. Continue reading Watching Game 7 from a Hospital Bed

Penguins Blue Line Play Changes Complexion of Series


In my last post, I argued that Marc-Andre Fleury was not the fault line upon which the Penguins fractured in Game 3 against the Ottawa Senators. The team needed to give its goaltender a few pucks in the net and the blue line had to stiffen up. Continue reading Penguins Blue Line Play Changes Complexion of Series

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