Paul Banks, from Interpol (or, that one band that felt like it might be something around the time Trail of Dead felt like they might be something but ultimately became nothing other than makers of a single college soundtrack album that isn’t actually hat good) was recently interviewed for Pitchfork’s 5-10-15-20.
He said that when he was a junior in high school, he was introduced to a band — Nirvana — “in a New Jersey subdivision” before becoming obsessed with them.
Thing is, Banks was born in 1978. He couldn’t have been a junior in high school until 1994.
He saw what was then the biggest and most talked about band in the world in a
subdivision in the last year of that band’s existence?
I call bullshit, but if someone remembers their Nirvana dates and trivia better than I do, please feel free to correct me.
Quote:
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Originally Posted by From Paul Banks
We moved back to New Jersey for my junior year of high school. I was coming off my sophomore year in Spain—drinking in bars, smokin’ doobs, hanging out in a major European city, and living a pretty dope fuckin’ life. So moving back to the same school district where I’d been bullied after all of that, I was like [puts up two middle fingers], “This is for all of y’all. Suck my balls.”
Lunch was a defining time in high school. Sometimes I’d eat with a jock who was a cool bro. Sometimes I’d eat with the Asian raver girls. Sometimes I’d eat alone. I was an outcast, but not quite. There was this girl I met who was on some shit—she had her own zine and introduced me to some really cool shit. She took me to see a band play in a garage in a New Jersey subdivision, and I was like, “This is cool.”
I discovered and became obsessed with them. I remember listening to Nevermind with my brother and my mom, and she was as into it as we were. Nirvana helped me understand that music was what I wanted to do with my life. When guidance counselors called me in and asked what my plans were, I’d say, “I want to be a rock star.”
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Granted, he doesn’t explicitly say, “I saw Nirvana at a Jersey house party,” but that’s the implication. And in 1994? Fuck that shit.
Fuck.
That.
Shit.
Nirvana historians, help me out. Prove me wrong so I don’t have to throw out my “Turn on the Bright Lights.” (Every five years or so I get nostalgic for “PDA.” Sue me.)