In Utero: A Womb With a View
Godzilla meets Mothra in the new Musician, which has an excerpt from Michael Azerrad’s Come as You Are, a Nirvana bio. “I don’t feel like embarrassing Kurt by talking about what a psycho hose-beast his wife is, especially because he knows it already,” remarks In Utero producer Steve Albini. Respondeth Courtney Love: “The only way Steve Albini would think I was the perfect girlfriend would be if I was from the East Coast, played the cello, had big tits and small hoop earrings, wore black turtlenecks, had all matching luggage and never said a word.” Against a backdrop of such wife-producer bonhomie–and on top of his own heroin addiction, his bandmates’ corresponding disgust, and having his child temporarily removed by the authorities–did Kurt Cobain craft his follow-up to Nevermind.
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Two utterly conflicting desires seem to frame the album. First, there are the band’s–Cobain’s, really–almost painful attempts to maintain its alternative credibility in the wake of its unforeseen celebrity; Albini was brought on as producer specifically to prop up the band’s underground bona fides. Such concerns aren’t new–the Stones debated the authenticity of their blues–but the line drawing and mau-mauing of the postpunk 80s remain particularly toxic, and haunt its veterans still. Cobain’s an enthusiastic participant (dissing the somewhat silly but hardly dangerous Pearl Jam as “careerists”) so he deserves whatever pain such an atmosphere causes him. Still, it’s a bit pathetic to see the leader of the most successful uncompromised band in the history of rock music jumping through hoops to please a marginal minority. The result is that a good chunk of In Utero is devoted to ungodly noise: the clanking, screechy “Scentless Apprentice,” the tuneless “Very Ape,” the ugly “Milk It,” the pointless “Tourette’s.” There’s nothing wrong with tuneless, noisy music. But Cobain’s using these songs to take a position in a political battle that most of us have no stake in.
My heart is broke
Important Columnist Health News
Hitsville can now report that the “Sickville” faithful readers were presented with two weeks ago was necessitated by a nasty instance of food poisoning. Whether this was accidental or a case of attempted columnicide remains to be seen; investigators are at work. But Hitsville sincerely salutes the Northwestern emergency room and the staff at 8 West in Wesley Pavilion for their assiduous care….Reactor Magazine, which entrancingly chronicles techno culture in Chicago, celebrates its first birthday with a rave-ish celebration tomorrow night. The magazine promises “a huge crew of artists, performers, drummers, clothing designers, lighting specialists, visual distortionists and smart drink mixers.” The legal, 18-and-over affair starts at midnight Saturday and lasts to morning. You can find out the location by calling 604-1833 on Saturday.
