When I was younger, Nirvana were older than me. Now that I’m older, Nirvana are younger than me, apparently, their B‑sides, demos, outtakes, covers and radio compilation Incesticide celebrating in 2020 its 28th year of existence as I try to forget about my 34th birthday party. How did this happen? Coming of age around the turn of the millennium had serious consequences for your cultural health. Growing up in the later part of the ’90s, I was driven to Nirvana by the whack of shit that was the contemporary alternative; it was a time when the only thing deemed more exhilarating than Why Does It Always Rain On Me? were Levi’s adverts. And yet even as I was finding solace in the music they made, I always had the sense that Nirvana belonged to a previous...
