Incesticide Changed My Life

 

September marks the 20th anniversary of Nevermind. For the best take on it, read Latoya Peterson. I can only tell my story, which is that Nevermind was less important than Incesticide. Thanks to Amanda Marcotte for reminding me that I've been meaning to write on this.

I was 11 when Nevermind came out. And it was great! A great record that I liked a lot. But not a record that sounded much different to my unsophisticated ears than what was out there. That's because of the deservedly-derided mastering that coated Nevermind's amazing songwriting, performances and Butch Vig's virtuoso production under a gloss of radio-ready pop-metal. I think I convinced my mom to buy me the Metallica black album at the same time as Nevermind. The two records sounded the same to me, down to the chorus effect on the intro guitars on "Enter Sandman" and "Come As You Are." What, you think I got the Pixies reference on "Teen Spirit" at 11?

It took until I went to my friends' houses to watch Nirvana videos on MTV for it to really dawn on me that Nirvana were like nothing else out there. (My mom didn't have cable -- in fact, she just got it something like eight years ago; thanks, YES Network.) The Ed Sullivan send up of "In Bloom." The anarchy cheerleaders of "Teen Spirit." Wow. I remember taking a walk with my father from a Bay Ridge movie theater while he encouraged me to decipher the lyrics to "Come As You Are." See, he knew that Nirvana was different. (Even if he persists in deriding Dave Grohl as a drummer.)

The next year Nirvana released the apocrypha album Incesticide. I remember this very vividly: Bonnie Edner and I went to the Tower Records on Broadway near Bleeker Street and I bought it on cassette. The liner notes had me ignoring my friend on the D train home. Kurt Cobain was writing about getting the chance to access the world he imagined as a punk rocker in Aberdeen, unlocked for him like a video game level, and it turning out to be a big misinterpretation on his part. As it happens, there aren't copies of NME hidden in vending machines in London, even though something about the way he revealed that had me imagining there actually were. I must have preferred to see the world through Young Kurt's eyes rather than those of Kurt Cobain From Nirvana.

But it was the first two songs that told me there was no going back. "Dive" bridges the gap between the dirge of Bleach -- not that I knew what that record was at the time -- and the mutant pop of Nevermind. There could be no further debate about the uniqueness of Nirvana. But then "Sliver" comes on. Remember: at that point, I had no idea there was such a thing as pop punk. I was unprepared for that chorus, for the feedback introducing it, for the way the chords of the verse sound so brittle and abrasive, and especially for Kurt straining his voice to go up an octive in the third verse and beyond. (That still gets me every time.) And what could a 12 year old want more after the awkward, embarassed and sexually frustrated protagonist of "Dive" than the re-imagined child's temper tantrum of "Sliver"?

The correct answer is "Molly's Lips" and "Son of a Gun." Oh my God. You have to remember -- I didn't know what a Peel Session was (those liner notes taught me, though!) and I definitely had no idea who the Vaselines were or why they wanted to call their band that. By that point on the record, Nirvana are holding a clinic in punk rock. You know who definitely paid attention? Blake Schwarzenbach on "Boxcar." 

"Son of a Gun" is a turning point. If you don't like that version of the song, you simply don't like punk rock. And at that point, we will shake hands without acrimony and part company.  If you do, there is a very good chance that your life will never be the same, because you will spend it excavating the depths of punk rock, hardcore and all its sectarian offshoots for meaning. Forever. 

And one of the first caves you will explore is "Aneurysm," which closes the record after some weird or very grungy ephemera. I submit to you that "Aneurysm" is the finest song Nirvana ever wrote. It's got arguably the band's best performance. It's got Kurt's second-rawest lyrics. ("Pennyroyal Tea" has to beat it.) It's got the most intense intro and then, a minute in, it becomes a completely different song. It's got the unexpected girl-group-style call and response in the chorus, which, given the backstory lyrics, I've got to consider a fuck-you to Tobi Vail.  (Also up for debate: Is that chorus the birth of the Foo Fighters?)

No 12 year old can possibly understand "Aneurysm." For real: "Love you so much it makes me sick"? "She keeps it pumping straight to my heart"? All I knew back then was that "Aneurysm" was the obelisk in 2001 -- it meant something, and that something was intense beyond my understanding. To be explored forever.

Update: This is why Matt Yglesias & I are friends:

If “at this point in Rock history, Punk Rock (whilestill sacred to some) is, to me, dead and gone” then what was it while it lived?

Perfectly stated.

Comments

[Fnord]

I still miss him.

Have you heard a Danish band called Paragraf 119? Or the norwegian Kort Prosess?

[dmd76]

"Aneurysm" is, in fact, the best Nirvana song. Also, he is saying both "She keeps it pumping straight to my heart" and "She keeps the puppet string to my heart" in the final refrain, which is pretty damn awesome.

[Michelle Summers]

Thank you for posting this. It's exactly what I was looking for!

[Marcia Marshall]

Thank you for posting this. It's exactly what I was looking for!