The Legacy

Nirvana - Nevermind20 The Legacy

We all know how much of an impact Nevermind had on us and our friends, but what did Nevermind mean to Nirvana's musical contemporaries and the bands and artists that were influenced by the album that defined a generation? In association with SPIN magazine, Nevermind 20 presents quotes from our musical heroes discussing the impact of Nevermind on its release and looking back 20 years on.

 

July 1st 2011 Danny Goldberg

Former Manager 

In hindsight, the most striking thing about the period when Nirvana recorded Nevermind was how normal things were compared to what was to come. They had enough money from the Geffen deal that they didn't have to worry about eating or having a roof over their heads, but not enough to buy anything expensive. They had enough validation from the reception to Bleach to have creative control and confidence but not a hint of the fame that the album would soon create for them. The problems that came up were small and easily handled. When the album was nearing completion, Kurt had told me in a tone of quiet determination that Nirvana could be as big as the Pixies. That was ambitious because the Pixies were a bit bigger than Sonic Youth, and Sonic Youth were the godparents of the scene that Nirvana was part of. In my own mind, the furthest goalpost imaginable was to match Jane's Addiction, who had some hard-rock fans that had eluded other punk bands.Then suddenly "Smells Like Teen Spirit" was on the radio and there were waiting lists (waiting lists!) of people at indie stores who had reserved the album. I wasn't sure how to digest this, so I asked Mark Kates, the head of alternative promotion at Geffen, if this was normal for big cult bands, and he replied with his eyes popping out, "I've never seen anything like this in my life." The next day, my partner told me that a friend of his had been at a Guns N' Roses show in New York when "Smells Like Teen Spirit" was played over the PA, and the huge macho crowd cheered. That was when we realized that it was going to be bigger than anything that anyone involved had dreamed of.

Copyright 1985-2011 SPIN MEDIA LLC

 

July 1st 2011 Jennie Boddy

Jennie Boddy, former Sub Pop publicist

I moved to Seattle in 1989, starting at Sub Pop just as it was getting off the ground, or at least getting the singles out from under [co-owner] Bruce Pavitt's bed and into an office building. Europe had discovered Seattle and we rode the crest of the wave of U.K. magazines loving bands like Tad, Mudhoney, and Nirvana. Already in 1990 the hype seemed overblown: Sub Pop had already gone from making T-shirts that said world domination to ones reading which part of we have no money don't you understand. As publicist for the bands, I knew no one could see my eye-rolling through the phone, so I had to tell journalists that doing a story on "the Seattle scene" was so unoriginal and was so not a story. Nirvana mythologized Sonic Youth's profile; that was the pinnacle of success to them. Kurt loved Sonic Youth, Butthole Surfers, and K Records. He loved uncool shit too, like Abba and the Knack. And what's cool is, he couldn't give one shit if it was cool. I mean, 
really, it's hard to be cool while wearing one of my dresses. Soon Nirvana had sold four million albums. Via the deal with DGC Records, they kept the lights on at Sub Pop instead of Mudhoney. MTV came to town, and instead of taking VJ Tabitha Soren to meet cute young Seaweed fans, I took her to see Earth -- one of Kurt's favorite bands -- and her ears just about exploded and she got mad. Upon leaving, she looked past me at one of her three assistants and told them to give me an MTV shirt. Grunge made the runways. I didn't roll my eyes as much then because it 
got so ridiculous it was hilarious. Oh, and all I'll say about the Hole song "Jennifer's Body" is that I knew it was coming before it got released. It's a pretty good song.

Copyright 1985-2011 SPIN MEDIA LLC

 

July 1st 2011 Meghan O'Rourke

Meghan O'Rourke, author, The Long Goodbye

The first time I saw the "Smells Like Teen Spirit" video, its sepia tones made it seem already a memory of my own youth -- the way I would one day remember what it was like to be 15 in 1991, suffused in a rage and knowingness about sex, hypocrisy, entertainment, cruelty. Even on that first listen, the song carried with it a strange nostalgia. And the strange thing about the 20th anniversary of Nevermind is realizing that the album did capture what it was like to be floating through adolescence in the fading sun of the early '90s. When I think about those years, I often think about the way Cobain embodied damage and longing in "Polly" or "Rape Me," songs I'd never heard the likes of before. The sound was disenchanted yet not exactly ironic; weary yet oddly celebratory. The album aspired almost to the operatic, but in a modern way. During that year, I first listened to Nevermind feeling it was ours, feeling it had captured a moment. I self-consciously wondered if part of me just wanted to have that feeling about a band -- the way my parents had had about the Stones or Dylan. We were the belated generation; rock'n'roll wasn't just music, it was the music that was supposed to signify a riotous charge (yet rarely did). Today, I realize that my questioning was shaped by the music itself: What made Nevermind iconic had a lot to do with Cobain's own self-consciousness. By the time I was in college, listening to indie rock, having put away my flannel shirts, it seemed the world had gotten a little more fey and a lot more ironic. But when Cobain killed himself in the spring of 1994, we all left our dorm rooms and went out to the lawn and someone played Nevermind from the window loud enough that it reverberated among the gothic stones as we sang along.

Copyright 1985-2011 SPIN MEDIA LLC

 

July 1st 2011 The Wrens

Kevin Whelan, the Wrens

My story is about me as a wee young lad interning at [name of record company redacted], cutting and gluing together press clippings about [name of big R&B star redacted], when from behind the door of the head of publicity (the door was closed because this person was always doing coke -- ah, the old days), I'd hear an advance copy of Nevermind being blasted. From my little intern cubbyhole, as the first chords of "Smells Like Teen Spirit" rang out, I believed I was hearing the music of rock gods.

Charles Bissell, the Wrens

My recollections are that in 1991, I was head of publicity at [redacted] and living as a woman. I remember blasting an advance copy of Nevermind to clear the coke crust from the speakers of my boombox-with-turntable. And my dweebish intern burst into my office, scaring the bejesus out of me, honestly, and said, "I believe that is the music of rock gods. I would like to form a band with you, beautiful work lady." Okay, more seriously: It is funny how monumental albums like that seem so inescapable at the time (Sgt. Pepper's, Thriller, etc.), especially to other musicians. It seems like for the next eight years, every rock singer wanted to sound like two people screaming -- including me, and I was terrible. It also felt like that was the first time I heard people talking about not just who produced or recorded something but who mixed it, à la Andy Wallace. And not just industry types, but fans. At the time, it seemed to me like a big battle in the loudness wars, of making records as loud as fuck, the better to "win" on radio. (Remember radio?) And funny now that the album sounds almost small compared to what came later.

Copyright 1985-2011 SPIN MEDIA LLC

 

September 24th 2011 Gil Landry

Old Crow Medicine Show

What age did you first discover Nevermind?

Teenager.

How did Nevermind impact your life?

I was in high school just north of Seattle. I remember going over to a friend Mo’s house where he and Tim & Phil Hanseroth (of Brandi Carlile now) were having band practice and they played “Smells like Teen Spirit.” I thought they’d written it and was blown away, I’d never heard a song remotely like it. I got a copy of Nevermind dubbed on cassette the next day and wore it out, learned every song! I’d moved a lot as a kid and Seattle at that time felt like a bit of an unknown outpost to the rest of the country and this album seemed to bring it front and center. There was so much undefinable, raw, creative music in and around the city at that time from what I can remember and could explore of it at that age. It was strange, and vibrant, and suddenly it had dirtbag royalty. The fringe moved into the center and I recall it’s massive success gave a kind of validity and respect to all the thrift store, stoner, flannel, “ave. rat” existences. A defining anthem of the time of sorts. I also remember an increase in kids with thumbs holed green cardigans. I’d owned Bleach and had been listening to Mudhoney, Tad, the Melvins, etc… but Nevermind was an album that spoke so loud and clear sonically with it’s devil may care intangible lyrics and brilliant dynamics. It refined yet raw power.

Copyright © 2011 Pastemagazine.com

 

September 24th 2011 David McMillin

Fort Frances

What age did you first discover Nevermind? The ripe age of seven.

How did Nevermind impact your life?

  I guess I discovered Nevermind twice. My first experience with the record was in the second grade. My mom was a teacher at the community college in-town, and each day after school, I had to take the bus to wait for her to finish her class and take me home. I sat in the cafeteria which was always set on MTV, and at the time, “Smells Like Teen Spirit” was in regular rotation. But, being far away from knowing anything about being a teenager, I didn’t get it at all. I remember wondering why those cheerleaders were a part of this loud rock song. Fast-forward six years later, and a friend introduced me to the band’s Unplugged session via a VHS recording he had in his basement. I still wasn’t really familiar with the band, but there is one gripping moment in the video that plunged me head-first into Nirvana world, and it’s always stuck with me.

Just after Kurt shrieks the last “shiver” of their cover of Lead Belly’s “Where Did You Sleep Last Night?”, his blue eyes burst wide open in this chilling split-second stare, and his lungs let out a sigh of desperation. It’s a very special glimpse into how Kurt really felt. There are all kinds of reports from the period shortly before his death of whether or not he was happy, but the performance of that song shows that his genius and the massive commercial success of the album had paired together to form a weight that the man simply would never be able to carry.

After watching the Unplugged session, I religiously studied Nevermind. Toward the end of high school, I got to perform “Smells Like Teen Spirit” on stage at this big show that included a ton of students singing songs from around the musical spectrum – everything from Motown-era stuff to Nirvana. I remember dissecting the words again and again. What did it mean? What was the significance of a mosquito? How did the lights being off make everything safer?

My attempts at attaching the meaning to it never mattered. I remember just aiming to recreate Kurt’s growl, which made understanding the words a challenge anyway. It was a huge moment for me – I was 17. There were at least 1,000 people in the crowd, and I was nervous as hell. And then, I got on stage and the meaning came to life for me – the angst, the frustration, the meaninglessness of the pressures to adhere to some kind of societal norm. That song that I had seen in that cafeteria years ago that I didn’t understand had finally come to life for me.

Like many songwriters and performers, Nevermind‘s personal and musical impact came years after Kurt died for me, but it’s one that I am constantly reminded of – the ability to communicate feelings and thoughts through sometimes indiscernible words and the energy to transform a three-piece into a deafening roar are two of the reasons that I will always turn to this record and other Nirvana records for inspiration.

Copyright © 2011 Pastemagazine.com