It still smells like teen spirit – Nirvana’s reissue campaign and the meaning of the ’90s rock revival

I hate to sound like a broken record, but there are no other options. There is no hope for rock ‘n’ roll and not even the former greats stand a chance in the fight against the modern music’s mass monotony.

When it comes to rock, the best album of the year is one that came out two decades ago—the reissue of Nirvana’s In Utero.

The new package comes loaded with extras, including producer Steve Albini’s original mix, demos and a DVD of the band’s “Live & Loud” performance at Seattle’s Pier 48.

Watching Kurt Cobain, Krist Noveselic, Pat Smear and Dave Grohl tear through “Scentless Apprentice” during that 1993 concert, I’m reminded how exciting the genre can be.

The song is one of many angry tirades of a depressed, strung-out man who perhaps got more fame than he wanted. In 1991, Nirvana’s Nevermind kicked Michael Jackson’s Dangerous out of the Billboard charts’ top spot.

No doubt, Nevermind changed the direction of rock music. Young upstarts who were ready to be packaged into the angry alt-rock movement known as grunge replaced Guns N Roses, Metallica and Bon Jovi.

All the punks came with a head of steam, some of them delivered their best work. Helmet’s Meantime and Sonic Youth’s Dirty are just two examples of the furiously good music Nevermind brought to the mainstream.

The move into anger-rock also made way for labels’ greed, painting a landscape of corporate sleaze—see the careers of Live, Candlebox, Korn, Limp Bizkit and decades of post-grunge bands that write songs about hate.

In Utero was a personal and genre suicide note. The opening lines give a nod to what has happened—”Teenage angst has paid off well/Now, I’m bored and old”; the final lines are alt-rock’s eulogy—”All in all is all we are.”

It’s a challenging, depressing, angry album, yet that emotion still feels authentic and relevant to this day. The same can’t be said about Pixies’ return to stage.

Pixies and Nirvana have a storied history. Cobain was in love with the band, and wanted to make a record with Albini because he had produced Pixies’ classic Surfer Rosa. While tracking Nevermind, Grohl brought The Breeders’ (Pixies’ bassist Kim Deal’s band) Pod to Butch Vig and said, “This is the drum sound.”

Pixies were absurd, strange and brilliant with songs like “Monkey Gone to Heaven,” “Tame,” “Broken Face” and countless others. However, the new EP is everything Pixies fans don’t want—the not-so-clever nod that the band is in it for the money and its fans are old enough to afford $40 vinyl records, $60 t-shirts and $200 general admission floor tickets. The songs are tossed off and unimaginative, as if the band recorded something quickly to keep up with brand management and get back on the road.

If now’s the time for ’90s rock nostalgia, you won’t find comfort in Pixies’ new sounds. Perhaps you’ll enjoy Sebadoh and Superchunk’s new albums, which immediately come to mind when discussing the best rock music of the year.

While Sebadoh’s Defend Yourself has caught flack for sounding like a Sebadoh record, that’s the very reason I enjoy it. It’s brash, lo-fi and emotionally draining. When Lou Barlow sings, you can tell there’s something sitting on his brain (his recent divorce), and this isn’t just a cash grab. This music is therapy, perhaps the only way for a someone like Barlow to feel better about being human.

Superchunk’s I Hate Music is also therapeutic for its membersas it was written in the wake of tragedy and dedicated to a close friend who died. Singer Mac McCaughan never lets the songs get too bogged down in sentiment, though. He hates music because this is where he meets the most important people of his life, and a lot of them happen to be going through the worst times.

In both albums, Sebadoh and Superchunk still get that the core of good music is truth. Both bands are still unafraid to let their personal lives dictate the material, welcoming fans to not only listen to a catchy rock song but also act as if we’re in the same room with them when all the walls are buckling from the emotional weight.

I can’t say the same for whatever else is on rock radio.

Kings of Leon continue to sound like worst parts of U2 and Creedance Clearwater Revival.

Nine Inch Nails’ latest album, Hesitation Marks, starts brilliantly before going into full on pop/dance mode. It comes off as relevant as Madonna’s British accent.

Arctic Monkeys admit that they grew up listening to Dr. Dre’s 2001 and Aaliyah. Not that there’s anything wrong with those hip-hop artists, but Arctic Monkeys is considered a hip, young rock band on its latest AM. The admission of putting out songs in a certain genre you know nothing about makes no sense.

Arctic Monkeys’ tour mates The Black Keys continue to be the Bud Light Lime of music. It doesn’t help that The Keys’ drummer has the timing of Steve Martin’s Navin from The Jerk.

So who will take the throne in this ’90s rock revival? Who will champion the return of the rock? Let’s take a look at upcoming releases.

Yuck? Well, that name says it all. DIIV? Who cares? Cage the Elephant? Here’s another band name with a verb/direct object phrase: Write a Chorus. Sleigh Bells? If you like your rock ‘n’ roll with a side of Spice Girls and guitars that sound like razorblades, be my guest.

The Arcade Fire even seems content to go down the boring path with its new song, “Reflektor.” While the song is supposed to be about the constant information craze of the new generation, it only comes off as a nagging advertisement—It has David Bowie singing it! Rejoice white people—a song you can dance to, like the one Mumford & Sons would write!

The only bands that come close to rocking these days besides Superchunk and Sebadoh are Metz, Nude Beach and Queens of the Stone Age. Two of those three you’ve never heard (Metz, Nude Beach) while the other is the only consistently enjoyable modern rock band (Queens).

On …Like Clockwork, Queens of the Stone Age gives another potent mix of jet-fueled rock. Lead singer Josh Homme crafted the album after a near-death experience, and the album shows his tongue-in-cheek personality even more than the band’s previous classic blasts.

Even better is the musicianship. Forget “Blurred Lines,” “If I Had a Tail” is the song of the year for its new wave vibe. Homme continues to be an underrated guitarist, filling tracks with classy riffs. The album even features Grohl pummeling the skins on a few tracks as he did on Queens of the Stone Age’s masterpiece Songs for the Deaf.

There he is: Grohl, the lifeblood of rock music as we know it. As much as the former drummer for Nirvana and frontman of Foo Fighters wants to denounce the industry, he sits at the throne of rock, a genre his band casually and beautifully destroyed.

Sadly, we’re currently living in a music age that Cobain knew all too well back in the ’90s, where the crowd sits aimlessly wondering, “Here we are now, entertain us,” being stupid and contagious, loaded up on guns, over bored and self-assured.

The odor of teen spirit still pervades.