It’s partly this that makes these versions of Smells Like Teen Spirit, Breed, Aneurysm, School and 15 others sound so exciting here, but there’s also the louche, slack air and fuck-free approach to what they’re doing that highlights just how different Nirvana were to the glossy, big-budget arena-stomping bands of the time, such as Mötley Crüe and Poison. This was not what a band were supposed to do at gigs. Not if they wanted to be huge. Nothing here is perfect; there are fluffed notes, Kurt’s voice is occasionally several miles from the pitch required, and any kind of showmanship or ringmastery between songs is absolutely absent in favour of drawling, almost sarcastic epithets that sound like the words can barely be arsed being said. But when they play, by god do they play hard.
Nobody there at The Paramount that night knew what was going to happen. It, truthfully, doesn’t even sound like the best show Nirvana ever played. But that’s what makes this special – a truly spectacular band captured without hype, in the moment, just doing what they do. And for a band so steeped in legend, that is a rare thing to have.
Verdict: KKKK