The arrival of a new book corner at 90 the Original is a great opportunity for me to share something I have been immersed in for quite a while now: books about the Seattle music scene of the 1990s, along with biographies and autobiographies of musicians and, more broadly, figures connected to the artistic movement of that time. I approach this partly as a literary scholar, but above all as a grunge enthusiast.
I am not here to spoil these books for you. Rather, I want to point out what you can expect from them, what you should not expect, and why they are worth picking up, because they usually are. I also want to address some of the controversies that tend to surface, especially the moral questions surrounding the publication of loose notes, fragments, or diary entries after an author's death. This is not a new issue. It already emerged, for example, with the publication of Kurt Cobain's journals.
That is enough for an introduction. From my perspective, if someone leaves behind personal notes, it creates a rare and valuable opportunity to trace the development of their creative thinking. Not everyone discovers a talent for writing. Not every musician is gifted in that way. That is precisely why I appreciate literature written by musicians themselves. We already have strong examples in Mark Lanegan, Krist Novoselic, and Dave Grohl, just to begin with.
So I want to start with Novoselic's book Of Grunge and Government: Let's Fix This Broken Democracy!. I know, it may seem like a controversial choice. I keep seeing comments under videos on social media claiming that grunge was not political. Well, yes and no, but let's take it step by step.
What do we actually get when we pick up Novoselic's book? It is a short text, just 103 pages long, which at times can feel a bit like a political pamphlet, yet is simultaneously woven with autobiographical elements. It is not quite a guidebook, but rather a subjective vision of how things should work, shaped by the author's own perspective: "Independence in the U.S. guarantees individuals the right to speak. But independence must also speak to us." (p. 9).
At the core of Novoselic's narrative lies a fascination with On the Road by Jack Kerouac. It is hardly surprising that this was the book that began shaping the musician at that particular moment. Kerouac's novel, in a way, tells the very story that Seattle musicians wanted to embody: a vision not only of art, but of how to live. It is also worth noting that the rhythmic quality of the text itself evokes distinctly musical associations. I have always believed that literature, music, and songwriting are deeply interconnected artistic fields, constantly flowing into one another. The founders of Nirvana seemed convinced of this as well. And this is how Krist Novoselic came to the following conclusion: "… I figured that all I really needed in life was a bass guitar and the promise of the open road." (p. 18).
He briefly summarizes the release of Bleach and the later arrival of Dave Grohl, which, in his words, transformed the band into "a force of nature." From that moment on, Nirvana became "a beast that walked the earth."
He then moves almost immediately to the success of Nevermind, particularly Smells Like Teen Spirit. Novoselic describes the song as an "anti anthem," explaining that it did not offer any clear message pointing toward freedom or redemption, but merely commented on the existing condition of people. Against the backdrop of the highly predictable music of the late 1980s and early 1990s, this simply stood out: "Grunge was its symmetrical opposite. It broke through with sensitive introspection wrapped in aggression and facial hair. The revolution was inclusive, with women musicians a vital component of the scene" (p. 22).
An additional context for all these events was the Gulf War, which undoubtedly evoked troubling associations. Moreover, the family backgrounds of many musicians included the experience of having military fathers, something that often carried its own burden of rebellion, resentment, and trauma.
At a rally organized in 1992 concerning censorship and freedom of speech, it was Krist Novoselic, rather than the organizers themselves, who was asked to speak. It was at that moment that the author realized that because people listened to his music, they would probably also be interested in his views. Just as they searched for meaning in music, they also searched for meaning in politics.
The sudden rise to fame placed a burden on Nirvana that its members were not necessarily prepared to handle at the time. We unfortunately know how devastating that weight became for Kurt Cobain. Novoselic then jumps ahead to 1994 and quickly moves through 1997 and beyond, touching on the transformations of the music scene, the growing popularity of electronic music, and the increasingly intense cult surrounding Cobain.
"Music is Politics." This is how Krist Novoselic titles the next chapter of his book, in which he turns to the subject of the American Constitution: "All men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights; that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness..." (p. 32).
A moment later, he adds that democracy cannot simply end on election day, and that there are many ways in which people can work toward the common good. From there, Krist Novoselic moves on to the issue of the "Erotic Music Laws," which he describes as little more than an attempt to find someone to blame for the problems of young people. Rock musicians, after all, were an easy target for public accusations.
He recalls the court case "Soundgarden v. Eikenberry", connected to Washington State's "Erotic Sound Recordings" statute. In 1992, the law was declared unconstitutional, although a similar legislative attempt resurfaced in 1995.
The broader conclusion Novoselic arrives at is ultimately this: it was reassuring to realize that, as a musician, he could exert real influence on the system. For him, it is important not to forget that democracy consists of all of us, and that withdrawing entirely from institutions, as punk movements often tended to do, is less productive than actively shaping those institutions through one's own engagement and participation.
Of course, he also mentions the "Teen Dance Ordinance", which for more than a decade severely disrupted the local music scene, because popular music, after all, IS young people. This is why the introduction of the "All Ages Dance Ordinance" was considered such an important success, even if it came only in 2002. The new legislation imposed numerous obligations on event organizers, but, as Krist Novoselic writes, democracy also means compromise and consensus.
Fortunately, Novoselic remains deeply libertarian in tone throughout these reflections. He does not attempt to impose anything on anyone and believes that individuals themselves should regulate the extent of their participation in the world around them. Rather than launching any kind of ideological crusade, he warns against cynicism and against withdrawing from reality altogether.
I will not go further into the later sections of the publication, as Novoselic's subsequent reflections begin with the invocation of the September 11 attacks and continue into a broader, freedom-oriented vision of democracy. What interests us here is not political agitation itself, but rather the historical background and the influence of freedom movements on the music scene of the 1990s.
You can buy Of Grunge and Government: Let's Fix This Broken Democracy! by Krist Novoselic here
