Married and Buried: Punk As A Four-Letter Word, Part Two
Posted in Books, Retrovirus, Music, We Miss The Nineties |By Less Lee Moore
Read Part One of this article here.
This year, I got a copy of Nirvana, a book by music journalist Everett True. Although I own Come As You Are by Michael Azerrad, I’ve never even read it. So to be fair, I read Azerrad’s book first.
Not long into it, I started to feel uncomfortable. Granted, the book came out six months before Cobain’s death, but there were a lot of holes in the story, for example: What was the explanation for the unlikely armistice Azerrad describes between Courtney and the rest of Nirvana? Why was there no mention of what happened to Courtney’s relationship with Billy Corgan?
Azerrad’s book provides too many junior-high-school essays on Cobain’s lyrics and not enough credible facts. How has this book become so adored by Nirvana fans and music critics, even snagging top spots on Best Rock Biography lists?
Everett True with Kurt Cobain.
Photo © Everett True
Unlike Azerrad, Everett True doesn’t sound like a hack writer who employs the tactics of William Randolph Hearst. He seems like a music fan, someone who genuinely loves Nirvana, not because they were popular or the voice of a generation, but because they meant something to him personally.
At 600+ pages, the book may seem bloated, but True delves into the history of the various music scenes and movements that spawned Nirvana, something which Azerrad only perfunctorily attempts.
True reminded me what I liked about Nirvana in the first place, although I didn’t like them until they were gone: they were punk. Not the Hot Topic, Green Day pastiche that tweens adore while those in middle age groan, but the anti-corporate, DIY, screw-the-establishment stance that seems completely absent in a post-American Idol world. Although the word “punk” has become a marketing tool it’s not exactly a recent transformation.
Although I like the Sex Pistols just fine, it’s difficult to reconcile Vivienne Westwood’s Sex clothing boutique and Malcolm McClaren’s svengali tactics with the spirit of rebellion. What could be more establishment-friendly than taking street fashion and turning it into haute couture?
Though I’ve only read excerpts, I adore Punk Magazine, started by Legs McNeil and John Holmstrom in the 70s. McNeil says he wanted people to think they were cool and hang out with them, claiming that “the magazine was started strictly so that its creators could ‘hang out with the Dictators.’ ” They chose the name “Punk” because “it seemed to sum up. . . everything. . . obnoxious, smart but not pretentious, absurd, ironic, and things that appealed to the darker side.” (1)
This is why I love Redd Kross. Obnoxious, smart but not pretentious, absurd, ironic, and appealing to the darker side? Yes to all of the above. They embraced punk when they discovered Lydia Lunch as young kids, picked up guitars, and recorded a cover of a Charles Manson song. They didn’t try to fit into the rigid aesthetic of the hardcore scene; they liked The Partridge Family! And they liked them even though they weren’t considered punk rock. Redd Kross still retains a sensibility encompassing the rebellion of punk and the light-heartedness of bubblegum.
