By Melissa Fossum
By Lauren Wise
By New Times
By Amanda Savage
By Jason P. Woodbury
By Troy Farah
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When Kurt Cobain took the stage on January 11, 1992, in his beat-up cardigan, screaming out from under a mess of fruit-punch-colored hair, that all changed. More than seven years later, Nirvana's performance on Saturday Night Live -- its first ever gig on national television -- is the closest thing to the Beatles' launching the British Invasion from the stage of The Ed Sullivan Show that this generation has ever seen. Arguably, it's among the most important broadcasts in SNL's run. The 1990s unofficially began that night.
And yet neither "Smells Like Teen Spirit" nor "Territorial Pissings" -- the songs Nirvana played that night -- appears on Saturday Night Live: The Musical Performances (released on September 21), a double-disc set commemorating the show's 25th anniversary. There is a song by Nirvana on the collection, but it comes from the band's second, far less significant guest shot on the show more than a year later, a by-the-numbers run-through of "Rape Me," from 1993's In Utero. It feels smaller in comparison -- just another song rather than A Moment in History. Still, it's fitting in a way, because The Musical Performances is more about the songs that aren't on it than about the ones that are.
"It's a tough call with Nirvana," says Ryan Shiraki, Saturday Night Live's talent coordinator and co-executive producer of the set. "We also didn't want this [collection] to be too hits-driven, and the performance of 'Rape Me' was from their last album, which I think is as important as their first album. It's sort of six of one and a half-dozen of the other, in terms of people thinking this song should be on, and other people thinking this song should be on. I think just having Nirvana on, representing a style of music that was really important at the time, is a great thing."
The omission of "Smells Like Teen Spirit" is only the beginning. The Musical Performances' liner notes, penned by Rolling Stone senior editor David Wild, mention a dozen bands whose performances should have been included on the discs, a tease of what could have been: Public Enemy, the Clash, Ornette Coleman, the Replacements, Miles Davis, the Rolling Stones, Talking Heads, the Pogues, Sun Ra. If nothing else, the liner notes help start a wish list for the next installment. More likely, however, they begin a discussion of where Saturday Night Live and DreamWorks went wrong with the first two editions.
Shiraki has heard this line of questioning all too often in the weeks surrounding The Musical Performances' release. He's "terribly proud of these CDs" and more than willing to defend them, even in the middle of last-minute preparations for Saturday Night Live's 25th anniversary special (which aired on September 26). But he is not inclined to discuss every worthy performance that was left off the discs -- and there are dozens at least, maybe hundreds -- so he stops the conversation before it really begins, letting his interviewer know exactly what he and DreamWorks Records, the label that released the first two volumes, have planned for all the tracks left in the vault.
"I think before we go into any discussion about the CD, it should be noted that these are two CDs in a series of many to come," Shiraki says in the measured tone of someone who has had to make this speech several times before. "As we proceed with the series, we're thinking of doing a comedy-oriented CD, something with more obscure performances, maybe an '80s kind of thing. We have about a thousand performances on the show in 25 years, so there's a lot to choose from."
But Shiraki admits that he doesn't know how many more discs will eventually come out, or even what the next one might be. He's been so concerned with readying the first two volumes, sorting through songs all summer, that he hasn't bothered to look ahead. There doesn't seem to be any reason that he should now. The reality is, The Musical Performances is so inconsequential, there might not be any more installments to worry about. The lineup -- chosen by Shiraki and DreamWorks' Michael Ostin, son of famed ex-Reprise Records exec Mo Ostin -- is too narrow to be a "historical document of the late 20th century and music on television," as Shiraki insists, and a few years too late to act as a compendium to current tastes -- either too old (James Taylor, Paul Simon, Randy Newman) or not old enough.