Next year it will be twenty years since Smells Like Teen Spirit.
And I know that statistically most of you will not be thirty three years old and therefore by definition were not fourteen in 1991. So I will keep this brief and to the point. But Smells Like Teen Spirit is THE anthem of my generation. Of anyone born in the mid to late seventies. It is our God Save the Queen, our Light my Fire our Sergeant Pepper, Mr Brightside or Wonderwall
I had acne, greasy hair and kissed by all accounts like an eel en gelee.
And I sat on the floor in a house in County Antrim and I watched Top of the Pops and was AWED.
Just a wall of pounding NOISE. Pulsing like a heart. Angry and beautiful and yearning and so sad it made you want to cry. And I remember yellows and blues and shouting and words that made no sense. And words that weren’t words. And wanting to punch. And hit. And fight.
He changed all of our lives, Kurt Cobain and more importantly, music. And he couldn’t bear it and shot himself in the face. I hear that song now and I remember the pubescent angst, embarrassment and pain. An acute ball of tension forms in my gut and a shiver runs down my spine. But by accident of birth or fate or chance it is MY song. Forever.
With the lights out its less dangerous,
Here we are now, entertain us
I feel stupid and contagious
Here we are now, entertain us.