It was just about 7:30 and we were standing out back by load-in talking to the DGC rep just a few feet from where Kurdt was timidly socializing with a small group (of what from all indications was composed of riot grrls). The three girls surrounding wore a shroud of indifference to him that led one to believe they were definitely traveling with the band in the shabby travel van parked next to the Paramount load-in doors. Kurdt was casually explaining to an acquaintance how he probably wouldn’t have time to get together seeing as how they had only the next day off and then Saturday were flying to Europe to begin that leg of the tour.
Climbing the Paramount’s rear stairway we passed Chris and Kurdt on the thrid flight and once again I was amazed at how insignificant 6’2″ feels standing next to Novoselic. As we exchanged formalities I attempted to succinctly mention what a good album Bleach’s followup turned out to be. More pleasantries and the ascent continued. Fifth floor at the meet-n-greet, radio and retail crowded first around the beer and deli trays then Chris and Kurdt when they arrived. Numerous industry photo ops ensued, pix snapped. Our turn arrived so Karen broke out the Santa hats and both Nirvanites happily donned the soon-to-be legendary black Santa hats. Forming a quick attachment, Kurdt decided that he wanted to keep his black Santa hat as keepsake. Karen let him.
Knowing full well that they were being assaulted this very night by a media and mania trying to get a grasp of the reasons behind the fanatic acceptance, nay wanton embrace, of Nevermind, I held myself to a single, brief question. I asked Chris how the band felt about the deluge of interest and hype, to which he replied, “Well, I suppose it’s better us than Poison.”
After the chatter we ran into “Mrs. Cobain”, who had finally managed to make it inside the venue. Said Wendy, “I’ve never had so much trouble and had to jump thru so many hoops just to watch my kid!” Nevertheless, she was smiling parent proudly as she said it. We went back downstairs to watch Mudhoney’s set from stage left. Possibly (probably?) their first live set from the Paramount’s prodigious floorboards, they were as tight as I’ve ever seen them, fun and showy with their ritualistic beer trips to the drum riser on a speedier pace than usual. The set itself was dramatically punctuated by a rain of change that followed a Mark Arm comment concerning insufficient finances. He was, apparently, quite serious. I later noticed him selectively picking out quarters off the stage. Steve Turner had different (yet similarly sized) priorities as he picked up and placed possessively on his amp the scattering mini-Snickers that appeared, along with coinage, around their feet.
When Nirvana stepped up to the plate for their set, the shit really hit as we felt the noise levels throughout The Paramount bounce up several decibels. They put on their patently energetic/introverted with Chris pogoing about while Kurdt stayed fairly stationary, vocalizing thru his dirty blondish mop of hair. Behind them both, Dave kept the rhythm rollin’.
About this time Kurdt’s mom Wendy re-enters our world, crawling across equipment backstage and generally beaming. I asked her if, now that she had passed The Paramount’s initiation, was she having herself a good time? “I’m having the most fun I’ve had in years and the best Halloween, EVER!”
The Nirvana stage was flanked on either side by androgynous go-go dancers, one male, one female, wering identical blond bobs, shorts, tinted goggles and t-shirts emblazoned with “BOY” and “GIRL” (which inaccurately, judging by their chests, described the occupants. I learned that, at least in live settings, Chris owns the voice that sings the stolen intro to Territorial Pissings. By the time it was over, I was so drunkenly delerious on this particular concert experience, I couldn’t remember what song they played last. I think it was Love Buzz, but whatever it was, it was on.
As are they. Bear witness to this ride, Seattle.