Last year, the 20th anniversary "Super Deluxe" edition of Nevermind was released. It features four CDs and a DVD worth of material. That's probably overkill, but when you consider that it's possibly the most important rock album of the 1990s -- maybe it's warranted.
Kurt Cobain is a tragic figure in that almost everyone around him continually passed the buck throughout most of his life. "Kurt's a fuck-up bent on self-destruction, but he'll probably work it out for himself. Probably." It's no wonder he's the patron saint of disaffected fat girls and scowling latchkey kids.
There's a documentary from 1998 called Kurt & Courtney. It's an appraisal of the conspiracy theories surrounding Cobain's death, and the possible involvement of Courtney Love, et al. Apparently, Kurt wanted out of the marriage and, gee, there was a vast fortune involved. Who knows, man? Personally, I think In Utero sounds a lot like a Steve Albini-produced suicide note.
Again, Kurt Cobain was a wealthy, fame-isolated heroin junkie/depressive surrounded by utter dickheads. That's a great recipe for decade-defining self-termination right there
Honestly, I was always embarrassed by the profitably cult-like following that sprang up in the wake of Kurt's suicide. I remember seeing commemorative T-shirts within days of his death, and thinking (age 13), "Holy shit, they're going to turn him into the flannel Jim Morrison!"
And they have. Kind of. Yet the music Cobain left behind is undeniably legit. "Drain You" moves mountains. "Sliver" contains some of the most guilelessly bittersweet lyrics I've ever heard. "Something in the Way" is a Beatles song for Zoloft babies. And In Utero still sounds like a goddamn suicide note.
But everything has its place, and those lonely hours of (white-bread) adolescent obsession couldn't forever belong to Connie Francis, Black Sabbath, and the Velvet Underground.
Now I want a Connie Francis T-shirt.
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