When a catalog is so noteworthy, and yet so pitiably small as Nirvana's—three studio records, an outtakes collection, an inconsistent box set of demos, and multiple live shows that duplicate most of these songs again and again—a passionate base of support turns into something like a church. And like any religious order, true believers protect canonical gospels from the Gnostic. In 2009 the Church of Kurt Cobain objected most strongly to the revelation that an "avatar" of the Nirvana lead singer would appear in the next version of the Guitar Hero videogame—which allows players to simulate performing their favorite hits in the guise of various, well, rock heroes. And not just an avatar, but an "unlocked" one, which could be used to play—perish the thought!—non-Nirvana material. "You can even make Kurt Cobain sing a motherf--king Bush song. He does it all while dancing like he's at a Phish show, accompanied by a mohawked skeleton drummer and an angel-winged, top-hatted bassist. It's nuts," the tastemaking Web site Pitchfork moaned, adding: "On the plus side, it's not like Kurt Cobain can kill himself a second time."
And yet, the Guitar Hero contretemps may not have been the most audacious provocation lobbed at the Church of Kurt in 2009. Before I can explain, you should know that this is, unofficially, Nirvana Nostalgia Week for music retailers. Both of Cobain's labels, Sub Pop and the David Geffen Co. (now part of the Universal Music group), are putting out new(-ish) material from the band, just in time for the holidays.
The more interesting, complicated, and—depending on your membership in the church—potentially problematic release is Universal's official issue of a much-bootlegged concert: Nirvana's headlining show at England's Reading Festival in 1992. In the year after the breakout success of Nevermind, Cobain's life had changed considerably. His marriage to Courtney Love was fodder for rumors of drug abuse in the press, and Cobain's health was an open question toward the end of the year. At Reading, Cobain tweaked the audience (and the press) by having himself rolled out in a wheelchair as he sported a wig and hospital gown. He crooned a line from Amanda McBroom's "The Rose," and then staged a collapse. After getting back up, the band blazed through a 94-minute set, playing most of their repertoire. The show instantly became the stuff of legend, with write-ups in Rolling Stone and the British press. (The rock magazine Kerrang has also placed the show at the top of its "100 Gigs That Shook the World" list.) But the performance was not without its quirks, either. Cobain, already bored with the popularity of his megahit "Smells Like Teen Spirit," started its iteration at Reading with a piss-take reference to the Boston hit "More Than a Feeling" before doing the song for real (the chord changes used by the two songs are similar, but not exact). Cobain also contradicted Dave Grohl when the drummer denied the rumors that this would be the band's last show, before pivoting once again and saying he was just kidding.
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