An Autopsy of Nirvana’s Posthumous Career

By Daniel Margolis

Kurt Cobain has been pretty busy since he injected himself with a lethal dose of heroin and then blew his head off with a shotgun—effectively killing himself twice—on April 5, 1994. Like Jimi Hendrix—that other left-handed guitarist from Seattle who led a power-trio and died at age 27—posthumously, Nirvana has served up quite a glut of DVDs, live albums, box sets, reissues and greatest hits packages. At this point, sitting down and listening to everything released since the man pulled the trigger amounts to reviewing the band’s entire discography and everything in between. So we did just that; what follows is a full run through Nirvana’s life after death.

Released November 1, 1994

In the April/May 2006 issue of Wax Poetics magazine, in the Record Rundown, Cut Chemist cites this album as essential. It comes out of nowhere, given that the rest of the DJ’s selections are obscure rap and funk and private press rarities. But as he explains: “This is as close to Beatlemania as I think my generation got.”

It’s true; most Gen Xers can probably remember where they were when they first saw this air on MTV in December 1993. But believe it or not, the release of this on CD and cassette a year after it was recorded and broadcast and seven months after Cobain’s suicide was controversial in some circles. A friend in my freshman year dorms told me, “I’m not buying that. Kurt wouldn’t have wanted it to come out.” (Cobain’s ghost must be pretty tortured by this point if he objects to every posthumous repackaging of his music.)

With a lot of bands, MTV Unplugged was somewhat of a dare, like, “You know when you get up here without your distortion pedals and 10-piece drum kit and explosions, you’re going to look pretty stupid.” Nirvana sidestepped this with a carefully calibrated set list: one track off Bleach; just four from their breakthrough Nevermind; three from the then-recently released In Utero; and six covers. No “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” and thank God because that would have sucked on acoustic instruments. The only hit here is “Come As You Are,” which worked well acoustically, as did everything else they played. Cris and Curt Kirkwood, from tour-mates Meat Puppets, backed the band on three songs from their 1984 album Meat Puppets II.

Meanwhile, MTV was freaking out about the material selected for the show—they wanted more hits. By all accounts, Cobain was in a grim mood, telling Unplugged producer Alex Coletti that he wanted the stage set 'like a funeral.'

But behind the scenes, nothing went as smoothly as it seemed to onscreen. The 2001 book Heavier Than Heaven by Charles R. Cross describes Cobain “terrified,” high and drug-seeking in the run-up to the performance. “He would show up looking like the apparition of Jacob Marley,” Curt Kirkwood said. Rehearsals were late and disorganized. Meanwhile, MTV was freaking out about the material selected for the show—they wanted more hits. By all accounts, Cobain was in a grim mood, telling Unplugged producer Alex Coletti that he wanted the stage set “like a funeral.”

The 2007 DVD release of the performance highlights just how much the band pulled together and Cobain lightened up – momentarily anyway. He introduces “our new guitar player Pat,” meaning Pat Smear of the Germs and later Foo Fighters, adding, “He’s a certified punk rocker!” He protests playing “Dumb” and “Polly” back to back because “they’re exactly the same song,” but suggests they can be separated when edited for television (they weren’t). When someone requests “Free Bird,” he retorts, “I got a free bird for ya” and flips them off. Later the band jokes that they should do “Jeremy.”

A fifteen-minute DVD extra titled “Bare Witness: Nirvana Unplugged” provides a bit more context. Krist Novoselic jokes that they wanted to do the show “to show our softer side; like scented toilet paper.” Some teenage girls about to attend the show are asked what song they want to hear and one blurts out “‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’!” while the other giggles. And Coletti, while speaking of the show with heavy reverence, spends most of his time complaining; saying that Cobain’s use of a distortion pedal in “The Man Who Sold The World” offended him as “the Unplugged police,” griping he would have liked a heads-up from the band and its management about the set list and flatly stating that he wasn’t too pleased with the Meat Puppets as guests. But a look at the rehearsals—also on the DVD—makes clear how necessary the Kirkwood brothers’ presence was, lifting Cobain’s spirits with jokes and misbehavior. As the band launches into “Plateau,” Curt blurts out, “I was addicted to Finger Ease for a long time.” Years later, Curt said this of working with Cobain: “It was like hearing from the Sham-Wow guy.”

Released November 15, 1994

Released two weeks after Unplugged, this collage of home videos, interview footage and live performance was started by Cobain prior to his death and then completed by Novoselic and Dave Grohl. The VHS tape opened with this statement:

“The following work was initially conceived and constructed in 1992/93. Though circumstances did not allow for the piece to be completed by those who forged its original vision, great care was taken to maintain the integrity and intent of the original edit.”

Despite the interrupted development process, this may be the most compelling and honest telling of the band’s story available. Over 83 minutes, the video shows the band goofing off backstage, sharing a bill with Mudhoney, getting introduced by Dana Carvey at the MTV Video Music Awards, and hanging out in a dingy apartment and in the bathroom on an airplane. All of this makes Nirvana seem like three guys you might have known in college who got placed in absurd circumstances via their casually displayed talent.

The interviews with Cobain, Grohl and Novoselic are illuminating and frequently hilarious. Cobain says he never intended for the band to play arena-sized concerts, stating that he’d only ever seen Aerosmith in such a setting; the video then cuts to Grohl and Novoselic badly covering “Sweet Emotion” between songs at a show. Grohl complains about “Smells Like Teen Spirit”: “For a lot of people it’s the only Nirvana song, and that’s upsetting.” Novoselic tells us, with an affected swagger. “From what I’ve been told, we proved that independent, alternative music is a viable commodity.” Cobain delivers perhaps the most telling analysis of his lyrics on record; “I’ll write one or two sincere lines and then have to make fun of it.” But in another interview, without a trace of irony, he declares, “We like to think of our music as musical freedom.” He also gives a simple explanation for the band’s penchant for destroying its equipment: “It’s a good excuse not to do an encore.”

Such jumping from show to show in the middle of a song is a frequent trick here, which can be jarring; one second Cobain may be playing dressed normally, then the next he’s wearing lingerie.

As for the live stuff, it’s nothing but highlights. A big one is a performance of “Love Buzz” at a club in Texas that is cut short when Cobain gets into a violent altercation with the venue’s security. The video then brilliantly transitions to a much more orderly outing of the song in Amsterdam. Such jumping from show to show in the middle of a song is a frequent trick here, which can be jarring; one second Cobain may be playing dressed normally, then the next he’s wearing lingerie.

More humor is mined from the band’s time in England. The NME is quoted as calling them “the Guns N’ Roses it’s OK to like,” and when the band performs “Smells Like Teen Spirit” on Top Of The Pops, they defeat the point of miming along with the song by doing it very badly while Cobain croons the entire thing. They look way out of place doing “Territorial Pissings” on something called The Jonathan Ross Show, and the host complains they did the wrong song while cracking lame jokes.

The video climaxes with “NOISE”—a mash-up of all this footage that depicts how insane it must have felt to be thrown in the barrel of international pop stardom. Then, as if this were a Marvel movie, there’s a key scene after the credits; a pre-Nevermind rehearsal of “On A Plain” that makes clear Nirvana was destined for huge success.

Released October 1, 1996

Arriving a couple years after these first two video-based posthumous releases, From the Muddy Banks of the Wishkah was the first time the band and Cobain’s estate seemed to invite you to again consider this as just music, rather than focusing on the narrative of a tragic figure who burst out of nowhere, changed rock entirely and killed himself. Novoselic drives this point home by ending his liner notes, which are mainly about how they acquired these recordings, by saying, “Let all the analysis fall away like yellow, aged newsprint. Crank this record up and realize the bliss, power and passion … TOTAL NIRVANA!” This wasn’t supposed to be all about death anymore.

That having been said; it’s still just another live artifact—albeit a pretty choice one. As the band hops from Amsterdam to Los Angeles, Massachusetts, Rome, Seattle and London, we get three songs from Bleach, five from Nevermind, four from In Utero, and four singles, B-sides or rarities, performed from 1989 to 1994 (the majority fall in 1991). The curators clearly knew what they were doing; you get spot-on performances of every song. This became many people’s go-to Nirvana CD, as it circumnavigated the fatigue many faced with the band’s three studio albums and served as a sort of greatest package, something the band lacked until…

Released October 29, 2002

Six years passed between releases here, basically because Cobain’s widow, Courtney Love, could not get along with the surviving members of Nirvana—particularly Grohl. This stopped the stream of music because, while Grohl and Novoselic wanted to release a warts-and-all box set, Love felt the smart move was a one-disc best-of, anchored around a strong outtake, “You Know You’re Right.”

That right there tells you a lot about Nirvana’s mystique; Cobain killed himself just as he was—by his own admission—running out of ideas.

She was right, not that the bait here was all that great. “You Know You’re Right” starts with some below-the-bridge noodling before moving into a suspiciously then-modern sounding vamp, some revealing verses and a nothing chorus. The disc boasts liner notes by David Fricke, who recounts Cobain telling him around the time of the recording of this track: “I have absolutely nothing left. I’m starting from scratch for the first time. I don’t know what we’re going to do.” That right there tells you a lot about Nirvana’s mystique; Cobain killed himself just as he was—by his own admission—running out of ideas. What better way to ensure a gold-plated legacy?

Regardless, “You Know You’re Right” and the convenient assemblage of all of Nirvana’s hits on one disc was enough of a hook. This disc sold seven million copies. As a listening experience though, this will take you to some uncomfortable places; back to when Nirvana were just one of a number of bands that MTV was relentlessly shoving down your throat. These were songs it was impossible not to hear for years and it’s difficult to forgive them for that.

But this release had the unintended, positive effect of clearing out all of Nirvana’s better-known material so it wouldn’t need to be included on a box set. Grohl and Novoselic were then free to assemble a Beatles Anthology-type project jam-packed with nothing but unreleased tracks and rarities. Which brings us on to...

Released November 23, 2004

Make no mistake; this is Grohl and Novoselic (with considerable professional assistance) asserting that Nirvana was band, and a cool, sometimes very challenging one at that. This set transcends grunge and the era it was recorded in (1987 to 1994) to create a sonic portrait that can sit comfortably next to equally lush treatments of bands like the Velvet Underground, Can, and the Stooges. It’s not easy to listen to either; spread over three CDs and one DVD, With the Lights Out is the kind of thing you’ve got to push your way through, with the reward being a deeper understanding of the subject. This was not something everyone wanted; the box sold well (nearly a million copies to date; not bad for a big ticket item) but critics sniffed that it was indulgent and for-fans-only.

This was not something everyone wanted; the box sold well (nearly a million copies to date; not bad for a big ticket item) but critics sniffed that it was indulgent and for-fans-only.

The three CDs are neatly divided into the band’s three eras; the Bleach years, the Nevermind years and the In Utero years. From the first track, the epic sweep of the project is clear; it starts with a sloppy cover of Led Zeppelin’s “Heartbreaker,” which is astounding to hear considering the creative force these guys would become. The rest of disc one takes us through the ‘80s, with Dave Grohl nowhere in sight (instead, the band hosted a rotating cast of drummers, including, notably, Melvins’ Dave Crover). This is the crudest version of Nirvana you can find, which is awesome to behold, although we wouldn’t still be talking about them if they’d remained like this. Some moments of early brilliance do peek through: “Raunchola/Moby Dick” alone must have absolutely confounded any casual fan who picked this up, while “Beans” and “Clean Up Before She Comes” recall Homestead-era Sebadoh. “They Hung Him On A Cross” and “Ain’t It A Shame” are early examples of Cobain’s penchant for selecting blues covers perfect for his range and disposition.

Disc two eases into the Grohl years with a series of demos; when the drummer finally does appear around track eight he’s playing bass. Their version of the Velvet Underground’s “Here She Comes Now” further reflects Cobain’s keen ear for the right cover, as do the two Wipers songs near the end of the disc. “Old Age” is astoundingly strong for an outtake, while “Oh, The Guilt” and “Curmudgeon,” the former from a single split with the Jesus Lizard (a pairing that probably exposed the Chicago band to a lot of listeners who otherwise never would have heard of them), are great B-sides rescued from obscurity here.

The immediate highlight of the third disc is a rehearsal demo of “Scentless Apprentice.” One of few songs the band wrote collectively, this version has the same effect as The Beatles Anthology’s version of “Helter Skelter”—it shows how a song that was still terrifying by the time it made it on to wax was expansive and unhinged from the get-go. But in the end, it’s what Cobain was recording alone toward the end of his life that’s most illuminating here. The solo acoustic track “Do Re Mi” telegraphs how essential deceptive simplicity was to his songwriting. We also get a demo of “You Know You’re Right,” which is amusing considering that the full-band take of the song delayed the whole set. At least they had the good sense to end with “All Apologies.”

As for the DVD, it’s probably the weakest in Nirvana’s canon. The candidness of it is great—it starts with the band on a beer run in its youth—but it feels thrown together. It lacks the arch storytelling of Live! Tonight! Sold Out!! and the sense of time and place of the band’s concert videos. The bulk of this is nine songs recorded at a 1988 rehearsal at Novoselic’s mother’s house. The friends in attendance definitely do not realize they’re in the middle of rock history; they’re milling about, reading magazines and trying to avoid the camera. A copy of Blue Cheer’s Vincebus Eruptum is seen on top of a stack of records in the middle of the room, which makes total sense as an early influence on the band. Cobain sings all the songs—including a cover of Zeppelin’s “Immigrant Song”—facing a wall. “School” gets some visual effects going from a guy flipping the living room light switch.

Other highlights include a poster for Michelle Shocked’s album Short Sharp Shocked stealing the show during an in-store performance; Cobain hilariously falling on his face to start his solo during “Sappy”; and the band doing “Smells Like Teen Spirit” before it was a hit, so no one cares. Kurt thanks an audience “for letting us come tonight and pretend we’re still underground, alternative rock pop stars.” Novoselic adds, “Do you know how much money we have?” and Grohl responds with a rim shot.

Released November 3, 2009

Forget Unplugged or any box set bonus DVD; this is the definitive Nirvana concert available on video. This is all the more remarkable considering that at the time of this late August 1992 concert, the band hadn’t performed or even rehearsed in two months and was plagued by rumors that Cobain was in ill health or even dead.

Playing into all this, the singer arrives onstage in a medical gown and a wig, via a wheelchair. Novoselic announces, “With the support of his friends and family, he’s gonna make it.” Cobain struggles to the mic and warbles the opening line of “The Rose” by Bette Midler (“some say love is a river”) then collapses. Then he gets up, grabs a Fender Jazzmaster and rips into a powerful 25-song set in front of one of the biggest audiences of the band’s career.

They do four songs from Bleach, 11 from Nevermind, three from In Utero, and seven from other sources, and through it all they sound equal parts tight, loose and loud—but most of all determined. And they’re in a jovial mood. Between songs they refute rumors that this is their last show, with Kurt specifying that they’ll record a new album in November (it took them until February to enter a studio and record In Utero). Novoselic even tells a joke: “The invisible man goes to see the doctor and the nurse says, ‘OK, I’ll go get the doctor,’ and the nurse goes to the doctor, ‘The invisible man’s here,’ and the doctor goes, ‘Tell him I can’t see him right now.’”

They also complain about bootlegging throughout the set. Before “tourette’s,” Grohl says, “This is a new song that we don’t feel like actually going through the trouble of putting out ourselves,” and Cobain interjects, “This song is called ‘The Eagle Has Landed.’” Grohl adds, “And it’s for all of you bootleggers to go ahead and go!” They did just that; on Nirvana bootlegs for years afterward, “tourette’s” was called “The Eagle Has Landed” or some approximation of the phrase. Later, when Cobain starts playing a couple of chords of “Dumb,” which had not yet been released at the time (it’d show up on In Utero), the audience starts singing it and Novoselic marvels, “Power of the bootleg, Kurt!”

A huge highlight late in the set is their cover of Fang’s 'The Money Will Roll Right In,' yet another example of Cobain selecting songs perfect for his range and temperament and the band’s predicament at the time. At the end of the song there’s visible blood on his pickguard.

Throughout the entire concert, the band is joined by a lone dancer, which Novoselic eventually explains, saying, “I don’t know if anyone remembers Tony, but he danced for us last year we played and he’s a great guy and still writes all the songs.” Elsewhere, the band introduces “Smells Like Teen Spirit” by playing Boston’s “More Than A Feeling,” which Cobain had admitted inspired the song’s central riff, and makes a gigantic mess of “Love Buzz.” A huge highlight late in the set is their cover of Fang’s “The Money Will Roll Right In,” yet another example of Cobain selecting songs perfect for his range and temperament and the band’s predicament at the time. At the end of the song there’s visible blood on his pickguard.

It all ends with the usual destruction of equipment, only this time Cobain bashes out “The Star-Spangled Banner” in this English audience’s face. “Tony” twirls a dead guitar around while Kurt gently hands his functional one to the crowd—a move reminiscent of Pete Townshend doing the same at the end of the Who’s set at Woodstock. A scene after the credits plays out like a Mr. Show sketch; a British kid and his father insist Cobain give him an autograph and Grohl’s drumsticks, and he’s absurdly nice about it.

Released November 3, 2009

Cobain announced “About a Girl” as the first song they’d do on Unplugged by saying, “This is off our first record. Most people don’t own it.” Overall he was probably right, but at the time it seemed strange to think that anyone interested enough to watch wouldn’t have at least secured a cassette-dub of Bleach by then. Of course now it has sold nearly two million copies and is the biggest seller ever released on Sub Pop.

Released the same day as Live At Reading, this reissue marked the beginning of the march through the band’s three actual records. Heard today, the album depicts a version of Nirvana that is much more obviously nurtured by Melvins and Mudhoney. They’re more riff-heavy, and Cobain’s solos are free-form, whereas in later years he shrewdly limited them to a repetition of the songs’ central melodies to drill them into listeners' heads.

The highlights here—“Blew,” “About a Girl,” “School,” “Love Buzz” and “Negative Creep”—are obvious; particularly because they remained in the band’s live set for years afterward. Drummer Chad Channing is capable and adds some flourishes like a percussive shake during the instrumental sections of “About a Girl.” But elsewhere the studio versions of “Love Buzz” and “Negative Creep” feel overwrought and stiff compared to live versions that’d be aired out later.

Cobain said that in recording Bleach he felt pressured to conform to the sound of grunge in general and Sub Pop specifically ('School' is about this) and that he had to make Nirvana 'sound like Aerosmith' (if that was what he was going for he failed miserably).

Cobain said that in recording Bleach he felt pressured to conform to the sound of grunge in general and Sub Pop specifically (“School” is about this) and that he had to make Nirvana “sound like Aerosmith” (if that was what he was going for he failed miserably). He also claimed that all his lyrics here were written the night before or on his way to the recording sessions and meant nothing. Still, what you get here is a fairly cogent portrait of Cobain’s mental state at the time alongside the sound of the era and place.

Some will try to tell you this is a more credible cultural artifact than Nirvana’s later records. Whether that’s true or not, it’s definitely less joyous than the band’s subsequent music, no matter how progressively bleak Cobain’s declarations got. Generally, they sounded just as raw later on; they just sounded like they were having a lot more fun doing it.

The 2009 reissue features an 11-song show that breathes a lot of life into the same material. Here, Nirvana is starting to find its sea legs. Plus, they run through “Molly’s Lips” (another Vaselines cover), as well as “Sappy,” a song they’d keep recording through the In Utero sessions. The set ends with “Blew,” which means the entire disc begins and ends with “Blew”—a nice touch.

Released October 24, 2011

Have you ever wanted the experience of listening to Nevermind by Nirvana to go on for hours? Now, it can!

Ugh, the Nevermind box set. Well, let’s start with what’s good about it. First of all; the album itself—it’s held up well, and any gripes about the glossiness of Butch Vig’s production and Andy Wallace’s mix sound pretty stupid given the quality of the songs themselves. It plays like a greatest hits, basically.

The box has “Endless, Nameless” tacked onto “Something In The Way” but not hidden after ten minutes of silence (as it was on the original release), which is nice. “Endless, Nameless” is brilliant in that it’s an approximation of their formula of quiet verses alternating with loud choruses, but it’s barely trying to be a song and the end result is scary. It shows that no matter how committed they were to pop (in the contemporary press releases in the box’s accompanying book, Novoselic declares, “Pop is the strongest of our sensibilities ‘cause God knows we don’t have any common sense”), they were also not willing to tone themselves down. It’s somewhat astounding that this song appeared on an album that sold over 30 million copies; even if it was a hidden track. From there, disc one neatly collects the “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” “Lithium,” “Come As You Are” and “In Bloom” B-sides, including “Aneurysm,” always a power-house live, and the sort of rote “Even In His Youth.”

Later in the box, we’re treated to a Halloween 1991 show at the Paramount Theatre in Seattle. Playing out 10 months before Reading, it’s a good comparison point, showing the band on the cusp of fame; just as strong live but not as confident. They boldly begin with a Vaselines cover (“Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam”). Cobain misses a chord change in “Drain You.” Grohl complains, “Two percent of you people are in costumes and personally I think that’s very lame.” Novoselic counters that he came dressed as John Jacobs because “he rips up phone books for God” (look it up). He also acknowledges the cameras for the crowd: “Smile! You’re on Candid Camera! There’s more cameras in here than 7-Eleven” (just imagine if the band had stayed together through the era of endless cell-phone-camera-picture-taking at concerts). The three work up a spontaneous funk jam for about a minute before Novoselic declares, “White boy funk sucks,” and they rip into “Smells Like Teen Spirit.”

Cobain spends most of the show on a Fernandez Strat copy before switching to a Jaguar and busting a weird-ass solo on “Blew” (tellingly, he switches back to the Fernandez when it’s time to smash instruments at the end of the set). The only In Utero song to pop up gets a grim intro in Cobain declaring, “This song is about sweaty, hairy, macho redneck men who rape.” Then, during “Rape Me,” dudes wearing body suits and masks wave lights at the band. The show ends with “Endless, Nameless,” which must have left some in the audience confused and deflated.

Disc three contains nothing but the 'Devonshire Mixes'—Vig’s mixes of the album before Wallace took over. Their inclusion seems to indicate that the producers of the box were under the misguided impression that the eventual, professional mix of Nevermind was an error that the public was clamoring for someone to correct.

It’s the mid-section of the box that’s problematic. On disc two, you get “the Smart Studio Sessions,” basically demos recorded with Vig early in the development of the album that aren’t different enough from the final versions to be of much interest. Then you get “the Boombox Rehearsals”—an interesting glimpse into the process, I guess, but hard to motivate yourself to listen to more than once. Disc three contains nothing but “the “Devonshire Mixes”—Vig’s mixes of the album before Wallace took over. Their inclusion seems to indicate that the producers of the box were under the misguided impression that the eventual, professional mix of Nevermind was an error that the public was clamoring for someone to correct. (Pearl Jam also later released an alternate, less-glossy version of their debut Ten. Whether this had a point is super-unknown.)

The book that comes with the box is big, lush and filled with photos and artifacts of the era, and, refreshingly, doesn’t present any essay from a rock critic trying to sum up what it all meant. Instead you get all the press releases DGC issued about the album, which are obviously promotional and stupid but fun to read, and then a long piece that appeared in Melody Maker just after they became popular, telling the story of the band. It’s a familiar tale, but does possess some interesting insights. As a child, Cobain was apparently aware of what punk was long before he heard it, and the first punk album he was able to find and listen to (checked out from the library) was the Clash’ Sandinista. He was severely disappointed in this, which is hilarious to imagine. “Sliver” was supposedly recorded on Tad’s equipment while they were having lunch. And, in a bit of foreshadowing that doesn’t bode well, Cobain predicts, “We’re not going to feel comfortable progressing; playing larger stadium venues.”

Released September 24, 2013

The September 25, 1993, episode of Saturday Night Live made one thing clear—Charles Barkley has amazing comedic range. No, seriously; it demonstrated Nirvana’s new material was startlingly good, given how convincingly it already came across on live television. The band’s third album, In Utero, had gotten its full domestic release earlier in the week. Despite the hubbub at the time (public bickering between the band, its record label and management, producer Steve Albini and Newsweek magazine), it was immediately apparent that this was the best album they could have possibly made at the time and one that came to define its era.

The best way to get people to buy an album twice is to say it has been remastered.

The In Utero box set, then, was obviously going to be a big deal, so much so that last year a satirical memo made the rounds with some phantom promo man advising shadowy forces on how to milk it for all it’s worth. Sample quote: “The best way to get people to buy an album twice is to say it has been remastered.” As cynical as this sounds, it’s also true; one of the highlights of this whole package is to just press play of the first disc and have the original album rip your head off—hearing it as if for the first time.

From there it’s into the extras; some of which have already been trotted out by this long parade of repackaging, such that they feel more like old classics than fresh insights. “Gallons Of Rubbing Alcohol Flow Through The Strip,” a bonus track on non-American pressings of the album, is a long, improvised track that feels like an autobiographical counterpart to “Endless, Nameless.” Grohl’s “Marigold” is proto-Foo Fighters, while “Moist Vagina” is another gigantic highlight, showing how much Cobain could do with few words (it’s basically just “she has a moist vagina” and then he yells “marijuana” over and over). We get yet another airing of “Sappy” but maybe the best one yet. And it’s impossible to read the title of “I Hate Myself And I Want To Die” now without cringing, but it really did seem like a joke on the band’s dark rep when it originally appeared on The Beavis and Butt-head Experience.

Disc one ends with the three tracks at the center of the controversy surrounding the album. Over Albini’s protest, the band took “Pennyroyal Tea,” “Heart-Shaped Box” and “All Apologies” to Scott Litt, who produced R.E.M. during their commercial peak, for remixing. Litt’s “Pennyroyal Tea” was only included on the censored Wal-Mart and Kmart versions of In Utero, as well as a single for the song that was recalled after Cobain killed himself (because it had “I Hate Myself And I Want To Die” as a B-side). But his versions of “Heart-Shaped Box” and “All Apologies” made the album. So, here, you get Litt’s “Pennyroyal Tea” and Albini’s “Heart-Shaped Box” and “All Apologies.” Litt’s “Pennyroyal Tea” is just a tad more polite; one wonders if the people who bought the Wal-Mart and Kmart versions even noticed. But Albini’s “Heart-Shaped Box” and “All Apologies” are revelations; the former is rawer and the latter is much more present, less blaring.

For years after Cobain’s death, rumors swirled of an entire alternate mix by Albini that was somehow superior to the released album, despite the producer denying the existence of this whenever asked. This was even supposed to have slipped out on a recent vinyl pressing of the album (I have this record and it’s no different from the original). So having Albini remix the entire album was the ultimate answer to such conspiracy theorizing, which the box set gives us in his “2013 mix.” The end result is like the Beatles’ 2003 release Let It Be...Naked; textures have been shifted around so new subtleties come to the fore. “Scentless Apprentice” bursts out of your speakers as a cleaner, more unified column of devastation. You get perks like noisier intros and outros on “Very Ape” and “tourette’s.”

But you’re truly in the wilderness once you reach the demos. They start with a different, sludgier version of “Scentless Apprentice” that is not nearly as insightful as the With the Lights Out version, and then most of the rest of it is instrumental versions of In Utero tracks—definitely in for-superfans-only territory here. A jangly “Dumb” recalls the Velvet Underground and “Pennyroyal Tea” has more of a bouncy groove to it. “Radio Friendly Unit Shifter” and “tourette’s” are both fairly toothless compared to what they’d become later. But there are some highlights here. The “Marigold” demo (with vocal) is fascinating since it’s Grohl’s song before the band retooled it; it would have been interesting to hear how he would have contributed to later albums if they’d happened. “All Apologies” starts as a country romp without many of its later lyrics in place. “Forgotten Tune” regresses back to Bleach territory—not a bad thing—while “Jam,” which closes the disc, is as meandering and pointless as its title suggests but ultimately endearing.

From there it’s on to the main event; MTV’s Live & Loud: Live at Pier 48, Seattle, WA—a full concert filmed to air on MTV. The network only aired nine of the 17 songs the band played that night—December 13, 1993—but here you get it all, and there’s a lot going on. First all of, recorded the month after they played Unplugged, this is documentation of a full electric set with Pat Smear, who begins the set smoking a cigarette that he is seemingly more interested in than playing the start of “Radio Friendly Unit Shifter.” Nevertheless, he fills out the band’s sound well; it’s a shame this line-up never recorded. “Serve the Servants” highlights Smear’s fun habit of rolling his eyes while he sings back-up vocals. Meanwhile, Dave Grohl is wearing a jacket and tie (both gone entirely, along with the shirt, after a couple songs). Cellist Lori Goldston, who also played Unplugged, assists on several songs—somehow audible despite competing with stacks of amplifiers and one of the loudest drummers in rock.

When they do 'Come As You Are,' it’s hard to hear him swear that he doesn’t have a gun less than four months before he obviously did.

This being a Seattle show, it feels like a homecoming. At one point Novoselic looks out into the crowd and notes “so many familiar faces” before telling Mudhoney manager Bob Whittaker to shut up. Later he dedicates “Blew” “to the bartenders at the Vogue,” a legendary Seattle club that closed in 2007. As Cobain is smoking a cigarette before “The Man Who Sold The World” someone yells “MTV sucks!” Without missing a beat, he steps to the mic and asks, “Then why are you here?” and adds a mocking grin. When they do “Come As You Are,” it’s hard to hear him swear that he doesn’t have a gun less than four months before he obviously did.

The show ends with “Endless, Nameless.” Novoselic begins it banging his bass on the stage as Cobain announces, “We’re gonna get way out.” That they do, with an extended build-up giving way to the most jarring and unhinged version available of the song’s crude verse/chorus structure. Cobain ends it all by spitting in a camera, beheading one of the two In Utero mannequins on stage with his guitar and mocking the audience’s applause.

The DVD extras take us through the disastrous European tour that followed. In Paris, on a French variety show called Nulle Part Ailleurs (translation: nowhere), the band appears dressed in white shirts, black vests, slacks and skinny ties; conceived by Cobain as “Knack outfits.” The band does “Rape Me,” “Pennyroyal Tea” and “Drain You,” politely bowing in unison after each song. In Rome, on a show called Tunnel, the joke is that the band is all wearing sport coats while they do “Serve the Servants” in front of a stagecraft subway tunnel that shoots sparks and has two ceiling fans. The extras end with the band live at Terminal Einz in Munich, Germany, on March 1. Interrupted by cheesy television graphics and B-roll of the merch table and German teenagers declaring how great they are, particularly how great Cobain is, the band does three songs. The highlight here is a loose cover of the Cars’ “My Best Friend’s Girl”—Novoselic even sings back-up. Following the show, Cobain postponed the rest of the tour. Two days later, joined by Love, he made his famed, first attempt at suicide in a hotel room in Rome. A month later, back in Seattle, he succeeded in killing himself.

The liner notes to the In Utero box have two main highlights. One is a letter by Albini to the band written and sent prior to the recording of the album in which he pitches his approach and pretty much predicts the later controversy, saying that if they let outside influences change it in any way, “then you’re in for a bummer and I want no part of it.” He also declares “remixing is for talentless pussies who do not know how to tune a drum or point a microphone” (take that Puff Daddy) and says it’d be unwise for the band to record at his house, “if only because you’re celebrities.” On the lighter side is the remembrance from comedian Bobcat Goldthwait, who opened for Nirvana on 13 stops of the In Utero tour. He says, “I find it frustrating that people tend to overlook the fact that Nirvana is/was funny.” He then cites examples like the band greeting a “Freebird” request with an atonal cover of “Sweet Home Alabama”; frustrating “testosterone-fueled jerks” in the mosh pit with spontaneous, acoustic folk jams; and possibly even allowing Goldthwait to give radio interviews as Grohl.

At this point, the only thing in their discography not to get the treatment is Incesticide; an odds-and-sods comp released as a stop-gap between Nevermind and In Utero. Similar albums like the Who’s Odds And Sods and the Clash’s Black Market Clash served as great catch-alls for more unreleased material when reissued. The question is if there’s anything left for Nirvana to release. Courtney Love has said that she’s sitting on a boundless treasure trove of Cobain recordings, but Courtney Love says lots of things. A quote from Grohl that appears in the book that comes with With The Lights Out does give one hope: “There was always some song that we’d go home excited about. Then we’d lose the tape or just forget it. If you saw the apartment Kurt and I lived in, you’d understand. The place was a fucking pit. I think a lot of tapes were lost there.” If Love, or anybody, finds them all, Cobain’s ghost could continue to haunt us for quite some time.