I could never claim to be the world biggest Nirvana fan. Not because I don’t like the music. Nirvana songs hold a very specific place in my heart, but I remember a time when Nevermind was everywhere. It was impossible to escape. For that I grew to resent them. Why? Because I was a jaded little shit and jaded little shits turn their noses up at the first hint of over saturation.
In my defense, it was easy to be jaded. As anyone who remembers the early 90s, the heavily marketed “Grunge” was inescapable. The DIY aesthetic of the seminal bands was lost in a sea of fabricated disaffection, hair, beanies, goatees, angsty vocals and guitar distortion. Every sorority girl was sporting the obligatory grunge uniform of flannel and doc martins. In sunny Southern California, where I went to college far removed from the earnest roots of the Pacific North West scene, it just felt insincere. Daily doses of the Kurt and Courtney show on MTV News that played out like real-time Sid and Nancy episodes made it appear all that more choreographed. Continue Reading