When Nirvana’s “MTV Unplugged in New York” came out 30 years ago it instantly became- and truly remains- my favorite album of all time without exception. Everything about it was captivating; the stripped-down renditions of the songs I knew, the covers I didn’t know (and still haven’t taken the time to listen to the original versions), the banter in between, and the fact that it was a live recording of a single performance. In the decades since, that cliché Nirvana-obsessed 10-year-old has blossomed into an even more cliché Nirvana-obsessed 40-year-old with plenty of personality-defining opinions to show for it. It’s an increasingly rare occasion that waxing poetic about Nirvana has any business outside of your most tolerant group chat so let’s commemorate the release of Unplugged with an equally historic ranking of the songs…
14. Come As You Are
Singling out the worst part of something great is a bit of a cruel errand but truthfully, everything cool about this Nirvana mega-hit is missing from the Unplugged performance. What’s supposed to be a moody groove feels rushed and almost jaunty. Kurt’s vocals hit the sweet spot but without the chime and decay of the instrumental layers the transitions are abrupt and the notion of an “old memmmorrryy” isn’t as hazy as we like it.
13. Something In The Way
The closing track off “Nevermind” has less echo than an inner monologue. It achieves a degree of bleakness that is frankly rare in music and yet it just can’t get bleak enough in this performance environment. Kurt delivers his apocryphal meditation on solitude in a low murmur over sparse arpeggiated guitar but the band joins with a thud and the song unfortunately begins to drag. “Something In The Way” is a challenging needle to thread and similarly difficult to sit in if it’s not quite working; even the band sounds uncomfortable.
12. About A Girl
“About A Girl” is certainly not the best song on Unplugged but is the perfect song to open with. Kurt points out it is off their first album, but what it may lack in familiarity it makes up for as a foundation for the show while leaving plenty of room for growth. The strummy guitars fill the stage as Kurt’s voice settles naturally in the acoustic space, complete with plenty of his signature grit. Furthermore, it’s a charming example of Kurt’s early songwriting; seemingly simple yet clever in the way the chorus finds its way back to the verse.
11. Where Did You Sleep Last Night
Admittedly, this performance would deserve a more generous ranking were its initial impression not somewhat lost on the naive ears of youth… not to mention someone who couldn’t understand how anything could possibly follow “All Apologies.” That aside, the song is a stirring journey through the depths of suspicion, jealousy, loneliness, and loss. The way the guitar stumbles in at the beginning suggests ominous intoxication and the rhythm never fully settles on being either a waltz or a 6/8. The ambiguity plays nicely since the title begs a question but the answers are foggy at best.
10. Dumb
Morose and vaguely baroque, “Dumb” sounds like a chamber piece being performed for a despondent king who doesn’t want to be amused. The rise and fall of each melody line is sharply punctuated by a guitar accent until the final phrase elegantly unfurls and repeats through the chorus like lengthening shadows complemented by rueful cello counterpoint. The focal point of the song is certainly the bridge; ironic since it seems to want nothing more than to shy away and take a nap to catch up on apathy.
9. Jesus Doesn’t Want Me For A Sunbeam
Though simple and obscure, this Vaselines cover is nevertheless impactful in the context of the album. In track order it marks a shift from the novelty of the Unplugged format to the intimacy of a special performance. It’s the first time we truly hear the full acoustic richness of the room captured on the recording, complete with cello and Krist Novoselic memorably on accordion. Kurt carries the verses with minimal guitar and clean, agile vocals while the choruses swell with the full force of the band. The tune is repetitive at the surface but the musical sensibility of the players achieves a greater depth with each pass.
8. Oh Me
Many Nirvana songs muse on sarcastic contradiction, but this Meat Puppets cover veers into the headier realm of duality. Kurt lends a gentle version of his voice to introspection on the meekness, vastness and origin of self. The playing perfectly complements lyrical themes in that both seem caught between emotions; neither anguish of loss nor hope of discovery but perhaps some space to think. Also, considering how rarely Kurt let his lyrics speak directly to feeling, it’s a little treat to hear him earnestly sing a line like, “I would lose my soul the way I do” for once.
7. Lake of Fire
Counted in with those four startling snare cracks, “Lake of Fire” is always a little spooky. The hell portrayed in this bluesy Meat Puppets tune is kind of cartoonish and not particularly threatening, but with one eerie minor strum we’re transported to the realm of a rabid tooth and the grave too soon. What’s chilling is that that realm is here. Kurt screeches at hell, but the emotional truth is in the whimpers and moans directed at how drab and sorrowful the real world can feel.
6. On a Plain
The steady groove and sing-song melodies of “On A Plain” are vintage “Nevermind” goodness, but it’s the absolute gem of a bridge that earns this recording repeat listens. The arpeggiated guitar is so spacious and the harmonies so ethereal it all seems to levitate over the room. Then in perfect analog to “somewhere I have been here before,” the moment passes like déjà vu and the bass line tumbles right back into the song as if the bridge was maybe an illusion. It’s an inspired section every listen.
5. Plateau
Again borrowing from the Meat Puppets, “Plateau” is an enigma that draws you in for a closer listen every time you hear it. The intro wobbles and slides between your ears while the verse feels like a folk tale as old as the land it speaks of. The “bucket and a mop…” shimmers but really it’s more of the mundane. Just when the song arrives at a place devoid of direction or answers it lifts into a soundscape of overlapping arpeggios and peaceful humming as if to close the metaphor; the plateau is not the point, perhaps stop talking and admire the view.
4. All Apologies
Between the song itself and the sad reality of posthumous release, the Unplugged version of “All Apologies” is simply one of the most bittersweet recordings of all time. Every element is at its very best; the tone of the iconic guitar intro, the laid-back groove over which the melody swells, crests and crashes like a wave, and the beautifully harmonized vocal fade out. “All Apologies” is the musical embodiment of the sigh of relief that comes with surrender, and perhaps as close as a listener could ever feel through his music what Kurt felt for himself.
3. The Man Who Sold The World
From the opening twang of the guitar motif all the way through the outro solo, “The Man Who Sold The World” is a mesmerizing collage of chance encounter, asymmetrical familiarity, a mic squeak, and the search for meaning in the void. Melodies wander in and out of major and minor just as the story wanders between memory and hallucination. It’s all very much a mirror of David Bowie and Kurt Cobain’s creative alchemy which naturally results in a recording that feels both vivid and abstract at the same time. Also, if you think the electrified guitar violates MTV’s strict Unplugged policy, hot take brah- bet you’re a blast at parties.
2. Pennyroyal Tea
Just when you thought Unplugged couldn’t get more stripped down and vulnerable, Kurt does this one by himself. Liberated from Dave Grohl’s career-spanning militaristic approach to tempo, Kurt leans lurches and limps his way through this mournful ode to frailty, inadequacy, decay and death. Though morose at face value, there is a cheeky humor to such exaggerated old-soul perspective of such a young man. Hilarious or prophetic, it’s a unique and endearing performance.
1. Polly
“Polly” is the entirety of Unplugged in New York distilled into one undeniably beautiful recording. Anything that could be said of the whole performance and its enduring legacy could be said of this song alone; simple, powerful, honest, celebrated, imbued with sadness and tenderly brilliant. The most moving part of this song about captivity and escape is how Kurt solemnly takes the first verse solo but in an instant the band joins and the whole stage blooms into one tremendous sound. The phrasing elongates in perfect unison, each instrument and voice is in perfect literal and figurative harmony, and as any lines separating players fall away, all that remains is the pure intended expression of extraordinarily talented people.