Nirvana- In Utero (1993)

No time for a Batman tonight; we let Little Miss Llamastrangler stay up for the 8pm clapping (future readers, this was written during the Great Plague of 2020) and, alas, there’s no time to watch and blog before the early bedtime that working from home without full childcare has forced upon me. So here’s another album which I happened to listen to yesterday.

I’m not keen on the concept of having a greatest album of all time (why does everything have to be a bloody competition?) but, if you held a gun to my head and forced me to choose one (please don’t), this would probably be it. Obviously, then, it’s the best Nirvana album by implication.

Why? Well, partly it’s because Kurt Cobain’s songwriting continued to mature and develop with age and experience. He was never an accomplished musician but had a real gift for writing catchy pop songs which meshed with his very alternative tastes (Sonic Youth, Beat Happening, Butthole Surfers, the Melvins, etc, etc) to produce a unique and compelling style. There was always a sardonic wit to his lyrics and voice, too- his sad end has led him to be pigeonholed as a writer of miserable songs. This is far from the truth; the toxic cocktail of heroin, mental illness and physical stomach pain that may have been undiagnosed Crohn’s that led to his demise does not define him as a person. He was often funny, witty and naughtily ironic as much as bitterly so- for every “Rape Me” there’s a “Very Ape”.

Just as importantly, though, it's produced by Steve Albini- no frills, no nonsense, just record the music as it sounds in the studio. This is how the band should always have sounded.