Another Side of Kurt Cobain and Nirvana: MTV Unplugged in New York at 30

MTV Unplugged still holds a nostalgic place in the hearts of many who grew up in the ‘90s. In its most popular format, the classic live-music series gave fans the chance to see a favorite artist or band take a small step or, in certain cases, a giant leap outside of their comfort zone by scrapping the voltage and playing an acoustic set in an intimate setting. Apart from a generation’s worth of the warm and fuzzies, the iconic brand can also boast having produced charting singles, like Mariah Carey’s cover of “I’ll Be There,” released several Platinum albums, including the best-selling live album of all time, Eric Clapton’s Unplugged, and captured a handful of performances that have since become pop-culture touchstones. However, no Unplugged session has remained at the confluence of critical praise, fanatical devotion and band mythos like Nirvana’s MTV Unplugged in New York. In many ways, it’s the Unplugged set that nobody—least of all MTV—knew that they wanted, and we’re still talking about it three decades later as a result.

Though Nirvana had been in talks with MTV long before agreeing to do their own Unplugged session, precedent already existed for heavier acts appearing on the program. Most recently, Seattle brethren Pearl Jam had performed on the show the previous season, and grunge contemporaries Stone Temple Pilots had actually recorded a set the night prior to Nirvana’s taping at the same Sony Music Studios in Hell’s Kitchen. While both of these entries in the Unplugged annals have their merits (e.g., Eddie Vedder’s heart-crushing vocals on “Black”), neither one registered anywhere near the cultural impact of Nirvana’s episode and subsequent album release. Pearl Jam wouldn’t even think to crack open the vaults and put out an abridged vinyl edition of their appearance until Record Store Day 2019, and STP’s stripped-down stabs at their smash singles from Core survive mostly as an online curiosity for those wishing to see a young Scott Weiland singing from the geriatric confines of a rocking chair. In truth, these types of Unplugged performances could, in hindsight, act as a blueprint for everything Kurt Cobain, Krist Novoselic and Dave Grohl did not want from Nirvana’s own televised acoustic plunge.

Part of Nirvana’s initial reluctance to appear on Unplugged stemmed from being disenchanted by other acts that came before them. Grohl recalls the entire band being unimpressed by groups that blew through multiple takes of their biggest hits while altering nothing in their performance other than using acoustic instruments. It felt lazy and pointless and maybe even disingenuous not to try something different in that setting. That being said, Nirvana were also far from a natural fit for the program. The band leaned on pure volume like few others on the radio, their biggest hits off the zeitgeist-shaping Nevermind relying on the contrast between soft, restrained verses and loud, explosive choruses to blow minds and shift units. During the eventual Unplugged taping, an audience member shouted out a request for “In Bloom” off Nevermind. “How are we supposed to play ‘In Bloom’ acoustically?” asked Cobain, as clear an indicator as any that the band realized they were operating somewhat out of their element. As we all came to discover, Cobain and Nirvana did indeed have a worthy Unplugged set inside them, but it took a very particular vision and some dumb luck to pull it off.

By all accounts, the rehearsals for Nirvana’s Unplugged appearance were an utter disaster. Few of the songs they settled on seemed to be coming together, right up until the night of the show. One of the gravest concerns throughout preparations was Grohl’s notoriously powerful drumming. Producer Alex Coletti later explained that he was so worried about Grohl being able to restrain himself that he purchased and gifted the young drummer a set of sizzle sticks and brushes to help soften his performance. In addition to the band’s understandable anxiety about unplugging and playing such an intimate venue—Cobain even had set design disguise his amp and effects pedals as a monitor wedge as a security blanket—MTV executives were at odds with almost everything Nirvana had in mind: a setlist that omitted the band’s biggest hits, a handful of obscure covers and a guestlist that began and ended with two brothers from a relatively unknown band called Meat Puppets rather than marquee names the MTV audience would recognize. Lastly, there were serious doubts about Cobain’s health and ability to play the show at all. Several sources have confirmed that he was suffering from withdrawal symptoms at the time, including intense vomiting the day of the show. All of this harbingered disaster for a band that showed up to MTV Unplugged out of their element, unprepared and in ill health, and, somehow, as Grohl describes it, everything just “clicked” once the cameras rolled.

When Nirvana took the stage the night of taping, something different lingered in the air. The band found their places in a garden of out-of-season, white stargazer lilies and flickering black candles beneath a ballroom chandelier—all conceptualized by Cobain to give the space a funereal vibe. A new member, rhythm guitarist and ex-Germ Pat Smear, flanked Cobain to his left. “Good evening,” began Cobain, visibly nervous. “This is off our first record. Most people don’t own it.” He then strummed into the now-familiar opening to “About a Girl,” a poppier cut from Bleach that would go on to top the charts the following year as the lone single from MTV Unplugged in New York. Everything about those opening moments played against type for Nirvana. Cobain perched and swiveled on a gray office chair in a fuzzy, green cardigan as he leaned into the song’s strained vocals. Novoselic tapped his toe and goofily bobbed his head to the melody rather than lumbering about the stage, slinging his bass like a chainsaw. And Grohl, hair in a tidy bun, looked totally locked in as he painted the beat with brushes instead of pummeling his kit into submission. It’s Nirvana unlike we’ve ever seen or heard them before, and it’s an absolutely mesmerizing start to a night that redefined how we think about and remember them.

That’s not to say that Nirvana’s Unplugged session was a seamless, flowing production. Far from it. While the band did all 14 songs in a single take—a rarity for Unplugged tapings—they also gave off the clear impression of not being sure how all of this would turn out, still sorting things out in real time. For instance, we hear the band openly discuss whether Cobain should play “Pennyroyal Tea” alone or with Smear singing harmonies as rehearsed. Eventually, Grohl and Smear exit the stage for a smoke break and leave Novoselic to watch Cobain lay down one of the night’s most memorable performances. “That sounded good,” Novoselic tells him afterward. “Shut up,” fires back Cobain. When the band botch the setlist by stacking the markedly similar “Dumb” and “On a Plain” on top of each other, Cobain comically turns TV producer: “Let’s just play them back to back. Who cares? It’ll be edited different. This is a television show.” The program is full of awkward pauses for tuning, self-deprecation and waffling over what song to play next. At one point, Cobain flips through a catalog of curiosities to kill time. It’s a bit of a shitshow, really. But at the same time, the nerves and confusion add a certain level of authenticity and, ultimately, a vulnerability that’s missing from many other Unplugged programs. The looming threat of implosion makes the evening all the more beautiful when it does go right.

While behind-the-scenes accounts and the filmed drama between songs documents just how quickly the evening could’ve—or maybe even should’ve—headed south for Nirvana, the fact that the night turned into such a compelling, cohesive performance confirms that Cobain and his bandmates had a thoughtful, if at times muddied, vision for the show. Much of the song selection speaks to that. The murkier “Come as You Are,” the lone hit played off Nevermind, proved far more appropriate than that record’s more explosive singles, Grohl’s harmonies from behind the kit fitting the tone of a dirgelike evening. “All Apologies,” not yet a single, was a no-brainer inclusion over “Heart-Shaped Box” and slid right into the almost psychedelic sound of the set. Stripped of their volume dial, the band discovered other dynamics to tap into. On the aforementioned “Pennyroyal Tea,” Cobain shredded his throat on the choruses to reinvent the contrast usually generated by three bandmates and a screaming Pat Smear in concert. Touring cellist Lori Goldston joined the band on several songs, including “Something in the Way,” where her bowing and Cobain’s repeated humming duet moodily under the studio’s blue-tinted lighting.

Likewise, the band thoughtfully weaved in several cover songs that had become regular inclusions on their ongoing In Utero tour. The Vaselines’ take on “Jesus Doesn’t Want Me for a Sunbeam,” an encore staple at the time, finds Novoselic off his stool and serenading with an accordion as Cobain laments, “Sunbeams are never made like me.” While gentler than most Nirvana fare, this almost-Kumbaya moment lands right on brand with the band nodding to their heroes and other groups that they dig. David Bowie might not have needed the Nirvana bump, but his “The Man Who Sold the World” feels right at home following the Vaselines as it typically did on tour. It’s a case of a classic song by an already legendary artist getting introduced to an entirely new generation of listeners; many would even argue that Nirvana’s live cover has actually surpassed Bowie’s as the definitive version. Cobain seemed much less comfortable as tourmates Cris and Curt Kirkwood took the stage for three Meat Puppets tunes—perhaps temporarily thrown off by putting down his guitar and not wanting to screw up his friends’ own songs. A far cry from the rumors of someone like Eddie Vedder making a cameo appearance, Meat Puppets ended up as part of the show because the band figured at least their songs would sound good acoustically. By “Lake of Fire,” Cobain had settled into their vibe, clutching his hands to his chest and unleashing a hellish rendition that hopefully sent more than a few viewers to their local indie record shop to find a copy of Meat Puppets II, which Cobain, of course, took time to plug.

Cobain reportedly stepped off the Unplugged stage worried that the night had been a complete dud. The audience hadn’t clapped and responded the way he had hoped for or grown accustomed to. What he might’ve failed to grasp in the headiness of that moment was just how different the show had actually been. Footage of audience members being interviewed prior to the taping suggests that, despite the Unplugged billing, they were there to see the Nirvana from the “Smells Like Teen Spirit” video, the band they had seen demolish their instruments on stage a dozen times on MTV over the past couple years. Instead, they got moments like the closing cover of Lead Belly’s “Where Did You Sleep Last Night,” a song Cobain and Novoselic had recorded years prior with Mark Lanegan and played in concert several times since as Nirvana but the average fan likely wouldn’t expect. Cobain summons the spirit of a bluesman at the crossroads from his office chair before finally erupting into a shrieking, throat-scraping tantrum to finish the song, a moment rendered all the more gut-wrenching upon knowing the physical pain tormenting him that night. After the song plays out, Cobain playfully threatens to smash his acoustic guitar before exiting. It’s a perfect visual to end a night in which viewers truly saw another side of Nirvana—one that no doubt would’ve surfaced more often had the next several months not brought such heartbreaking tragedy.

Nirvana’s Unplugged session taped on November 18th, 1993. The show aired on MTV a month later just before Christmas. Kurt Cobain would take his life on April 8th the following year. In the aftermath of his death, MTV began playing Nirvana’s Unplugged appearance in heavy rotation. The set would be released on CD in November of 1994 and go on to outsell In Utero and earn the band their only Grammy. It’s difficult to say if we’d still be talking about MTV Unplugged in New York with the same reverence had Cobain lived longer. Maybe that night would have just become another moment in a much longer string of moments for Nirvana. When Cobain passed, he left the realm of reluctant rock star and shuffled into the strange, complicated and hallowed air of tragic icon—a place often reduced to images stamped on posters, T-shirts, and votive candles. So much of Unplugged has become part of that Cobain iconography: the facial expressions and posture, the streaky blonde hair, the five o’clock shadow, that engulfing cardigan. For many, it’s become the lasting image of Cobain in their minds. Luckily, those images leave a trail that will continue to lead listeners back to one unforgettable night in Hell’s Kitchen that witnessed a nervous, fumbling group of rock stars become Unplugged legends.