It's a cold and rainy evening in late October. The shops are filled with Hallowe'en goodies, which we all know will soon be cleared out of the way for the far more lucrative festive season's fare.

The adverts on TV are becoming even more blatant and pandering, portraying images of quite superfluously verbose and expensive children's toys. Jingling bells accompany the ads, in some attempt to mask the jangling of cash registers.

And suddenly the record industry's new releases take a different turn. The regular torrent of disposable pop fluff is suddenly supplemented by a glut of Greatest Hits and Best Of compilations, and it's into this category we must file what will in all probability be the last released Nirvana album, imaginatively entitled 'Nirvana'.

Featuring a grand total of one (count them...) new track, 'You Know You're Right', this Greatest Hits compilation boasts, on the cover,

493 523-2

in exactly the same format we've seen on a million other compilation albums. Without arguing or going into precisely how they're defining 'CLASSIC', the track list is:

  1. You Know You're Right
  2. About A Girl
  3. Been A Son
  4. Sliver
  5. Smells Like Teen Spirit
  6. Come As You Are
  7. Lithium
  8. In Bloom
  9. Heart-Shaped Box
  10. Pennyroyal Tea
  11. Rape Me
  12. Dumb
  13. All Apologies
  14. The Man Who Sold The World
  15. Where Did You Sleep Last Night

The album cover is black with a silver 'NIRVANA', the spine reminiscent of Bleach's. Despite the presence of the recording of About a Girl from the Bleach recording, the performances are attributed to the final configuration of the band lineup. The standard liner notes blurb is written by one David Fricke, sharing his own personal perspective on the band and waxing lyrical about Kurt's 'genius'.

Let's all remember for a moment. Nirvana were the band that made me want to break things. Much as I may credit Manic Street Preachers with the revolutionary ideals behind these ideas, Nirvana fired my desire to see the modern world in flames, along with the mechanics of everything that keeps us docile and permissive and easily managed. I don't want to see this band reduced to prole-feed.

I was almost ashamed to buy the album, (£11.99), and so I offer this promise in repayment to the universe: that if I should ever have a band of my own, and a record deal, our Best Of compilation shall be entitled 'The Complete Dehumanisation and Corporate Sodomisation Of...'.

In conclusion, this album will probably sell like hotcakes. It will be bought by those of us that remember the music and how it made us feel. It will be bought by the mothers of all the little spiky-haired clean-cut nu-metal kiddies who walk around in smiley face Nirvana T-shirts, enthusiastically unwrapped under the tree in their Slipknot pajamas. It will sell to those that spurned the group, but in retrospect realise that they kinda quite liked Smells Like Teen Spirit, so there might be something else on there that's good too. So you know what you have to do.

Steal this album.

Fuck you, Courtney.