Somewhere amid the ideas swirling in his mind was the desire, he told Rolling Stone in , to write "the ultimate pop song. As noted in Nirvana: The True Story , the frontman supposedly wanted to call this creation "Anthem," though Vail pushed back since Bikini Kill already had a song of the same name.
Cobain then reached out to Hanna, who was perplexed but happy to give permission for her drunken scrawling to be used for a song title. Kurt Cobain crowd surfing in Frankfurt, Germany on November 1, Although Cobain was aiming high, the early feedback from his bandmates wasn't encouraging. Bassist Krist Novoselic seemingly glossed over the lyrics, and when they began rehearsing the song, initially consisting of the guitar riff and chorus, he deemed it "ridiculous.
Novoselic suggested slowing things down and laid the groundwork for the verse, providing space for drummer Dave Grohl to jump in with the beat. The song soon sounded less like Boston and more like something by the Pixies, the proto-grunge group that Cobain idolized and was known for its interchanging soft-loud dynamic. Still, the music came off as powerful and novel, particularly when infused with Cobain's semi-cryptic lyrics and full-throttle wailing.
And audiences agreed. Several months later, just a few weeks prior to the recording of Nevermind, Kurt began playing a guitar riff that Nirvana bassist Krist Novoselic thought sounded extremely silly. Kurt punished Krist by making the band play the riff over and over for an hour and a half. After likely experiencing some Stockholm Syndrome, Krist started to like the riff and suggested that they play it at a reduced speed. The altered riff become the iconic intro to Smells Like Teen Spirit.
Dave Grohl jumped in with the drum beat to finalize the musical portion of the track. While he was a self-proclaimed anti-media whore, during a Rolling Stone interview in '94, Kurt confessed:. In the spring of , Alice in Chains were the biggest Seattle band. Soundgarden had released their major-label debut, Louder than Love, a year and a half earlier; Nirvana and Mudhoney had both released sludgy, well-received albums on Sub Pop Records; Mookie Blaylock had yet to play a show under their new name, Pearl Jam.
Dozens of other Seattle bands were releasing albums and playing shows, and it felt like any of them might be the next big band. Those interested were told to be at the Seattle Center parking lot at 6 p. The small number of chartered buses waiting to caravan to the undisclosed venue made one thing clear: We would not see Alice in Chains that night. It was still early, so we flipped through The Rocket to see what else was going on.
One band stood out: Nirvana, who were playing that night with Fitz of Depression and Bikini Kill opening at a small, art-house venue called the OK Hotel. By the time we returned to the club two hours later, a crowd of people had gathered outside the obviously sold-out show.
While the Seattle Center crowd was all testosterone and facial hair, the OK Hotel people were skinny, non-threatening nerd-punks with self-dyed hair. The heavy doors opened to the heat of bodies that swayed and bobbed like one collective mass. We nudged our way to the front of the room when people left to go outside between bands.
In the meantime, an exceptionally tall, lanky man in a black T-shirt and a messy brown shag of hair set up his bass amp. I was shaken by the matter-of-fact way in which he played the booming, powerful notes as he set up. Wargasm in The K! Previous Entry Next Entry. Follow Us.
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