give me a Leonard Cohen afterworld, so i can sigh eternally

72.





in utero
nirvana [dgc, 1993]

this is the sound of mental collapse and caged dog desperation; after the unbridled success of Nevermind, the boomer critical establishment - and millions of adoring fans - foisted the world onto Kurt Cobain's back. he was the Savior, the Voice, the Icon, the counter Jon Bon Jovi and Nirvana was the ferociously "authenic" antidote to the bloated excesses of hair metal, obliterating crass, teased-hair insincerity with righteous punk indignation. In Utero is the intrepid response to all the unwanted adulation, noisily confrontational and as caustic as a beaker of hydrochloric acid funneled down the gullet. the Freudian fury of rumbling opener "serve the servants" scorches the earth for the bulldozing "scentless apprentice" where Cobain massacres his throat over blitzkrieg guitar and Dave Grohl's panzer drums. the "loud-soft" dynamics of "heart-shaped box" and the sly allusion to "smells like teen spirit" on "rape me" acknowledge Nirvana's past before staggering off into more ominous territory, while Cobain self-deprecatingly equates his mental state to that of a deranged film starlet on "frances farmer will have her revenge on seattle." the eye of the hurricane quiet of the precocious "dumb" and the bittersweet "pennyroyal tea" counteract the sonic assault of the ironically titled "radio friendly unit shifter" and the unapologetic squall of "tourette's." "milk it" is the record's highpoint; a maelstrom of grotesque lyrics, schizophrenic guitar, mastodon-sized drums, and a creeping sense of impending doom. in the wake of Cobain's suicide, closer "all apologies" has become an elegy, and indeed the closing lyrical round of "all in all is all we are" [perhaps appropriately misconstrued as "all alone is all we are"] achieves a wistful aura of corporeal finality. this is an idiosyncratic record, off-putting and charming, defiant and droll, and an effective demonstration of why Nirvana is such a universally beloved band, regardless of critical hyperbole and misapplication.

teenage angst has paid off well, now i'm bored and old momenet: hi, yeah, i'm back. due to a computer death, multiple distractions, and my inability to complete any list-based project i start, i know it's been awhile [cue Staind song]. also, i was reluctant to write this entry. it's difficult to approach a group as "universally beloved" as Nirvana, and i didn't want to fall too much into the pitfall of focusing extensively on Cobain's death. it probably shouldn't have taken me three months to get around to it, but, oh well. i AM going to finish this project. even it takes years, damnit.