The first time I heard Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” it was on MTV. My mother had gotten cable to watch The Gulf War (thanks, CNN!) and MTV was part of the package. For any younger readers, MTV used to show music videos almost exclusively back then, before the The Real World proved wildly successful in 1992, and the inevitable tsunami of reality shows crashed with its high-ratings-to-low-production-cost wake.
I remember watching the video and thinking, “Huh, that’s new.” I was interested in all of it immediately: the distorted guitar riff with see-saw lyrics, the clean metallic bass line, the apoplectic yet precise rhythmic drumming (the dude has duct tape on his crashes), the writhing cheerleaders with anarchy symbols emblazoned on their halter-tops, and the old janitor grinning like Sling Blade while he jabbed his bucket. I didn’t know what to make of it, but damned if I didn’t like it.
