Just finished reading a terrible Nirvana bio by Everett True. 400 pages, like watching 400 hours of, oh, "Millionaire Matchmaker" or TMZ or something. About 90% junk and 10% actual interesting tidbits. Worst is author True's complete lack of style --- obviously influenced by the heyday of Rolling Stone/Creem writers in the '70s, he attempts to take that at-the-time fresh style: "So, I'm in a bathroom stall with Courtney Love..." etc. But then... I think she just tells him to get out or something. There's absolutely no psychological insight whatsoever from any of his personal hangings-out/on with either Kurt or Courtney. Exactly like TMZ.
And when True wasn't there personally, he completely, ineptly jumbles up influences, history, etc. (I was, for instance, appalled by his ignorance of Seattle native/actress/Kurtney-influence Frances Farmer's life: According to True, Farmer wrote a poem called "God Is Dead" during "the height of the Cold War" that got her committed to an insane asylum by the political powers-that-be. In reality, Farmer wrote her essay "God Dies" for a high-school writing competition... in 1931. (The Cold War didn't start until after World War II. It wasn't the essay that got her committed.)
When this style of rock journalism first caught on in the '70s (Lester Bangs, Hunter S. Thompson, et al), it was because it was GOOD WRITING. It was not only juicy and gossipy, but it was also LITERATURE. Most powerfully, it was psychologically interesting. Not so at all here in this book.
But the book did, though, still make me very much crave "Nevermind," "In Utero," and, especially, the Unplugged sessions --- SOMETHING by Cobain to channel his spirit. When I went to put on Unplugged, I discovered that all of my Nirvana CDs, I'd sold before I went to NYC in 2007. :( I have a LOT of CDs missing 'cause I sold them for cash back then...
So tonight I spent some time on eBay, getting a few things back (all for about $5 apiece): Nevermind, In Utero, Unplugged. (Oh, plus Elvis Costello's "Imperial Bedroom.")
In the meantime, here's "Heart Shaped Box" live and "All Apologies."
She eyes me like a Pisces when I am weak
I've been locked inside your heart-shaped box for a week
I was drawn into your magnet tar-pit trap
I wish I could eat your cancer when you turn black
I've got a new complaint
Forever in debt to your priceless advice
Meat-eating orchids forgive no one just yet
Cut myself on angel hair and baby's breath
Broken hymen of your highness, I'm left black
Throw down your umbilical noose so I can climb right back