Nirvana - Sliver (7") - 45RPM

“Sliver” might be a single rather than an album, but it tells you more about Nirvana’s centre of gravity than most bands manage across a whole discography. Cut in 1990 for Sub Pop, it sits right between the grit of Bleach and the sugar-rush clarity that would define Nevermind. It’s the moment Kurt Cobain proves he can write an earworm without sanding off the splinters, a pop song about childhood panic that still smells like a basement rehearsal room.

The setup is simple. Power chords, a bassline that nudges rather than flaunts, and a vocal that sounds half bored, half on the verge of a tantrum. Then that hook. “Grandma take me home” repeats like a mantra, funny at first, then desperate, then strangely moving. Cobain once talked about knocking out an uncomplicated pop tune just to see if he could, and you can hear that intent in the song’s clean, unfussy build. But he also can’t help himself. The guitars snag on little shards of feedback, and the arrangement stops on a dime before lurching back in. It’s singalong and snotty at the same time, the classic Nirvana collision.

Historically, “Sliver” lands at a turning point. Drums are by Dan Peters of Mudhoney, who stepped in for a quick session while the band was between permanent sticksmen. You can feel his drive pushing the song forward, straight and punchy. Not long after, Dave Grohl would enter the picture and change the band’s chemistry again, but there’s a special spark here. Recorded fast in Seattle with Jack Endino, it sounds like three people throwing everything they have at a one-take idea and nailing it.

The single’s B-side, “Dive,” hints at the future too. Tracked earlier in 1990 with Butch Vig at Smart Studios in Wisconsin, and featuring Chad Channing on drums, it’s heavier and more sinuous, the bassline slinking around the riff while Cobain roars from the throat rather than the nose. It later turned up on Incesticide, as did “Sliver,” and you can hear why fans latched onto both. One shows Nirvana’s pop instinct, the other their ability to make sludge feel aerodynamic. That tug of war is the band in a nutshell.

For a song about being left at the grandparents’ place, “Sliver” carries a lot of cultural baggage. When the video surfaced a couple of years later, stitched together by Kevin Kerslake, you got home-movie Nirvana rather than glossy MTV fodder, including glimpses of Cobain’s life with Frances Bean. It matched the song’s small-scale drama. No sermon, just a very specific memory sung like a nursery rhyme that has started to crack.

Critics cottoned on early. Even before the world went mad for “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” writers were pointing to “Sliver” as evidence of Cobain’s melodic gift. Later, when the dust settled, the track remained a fan favourite and a live staple. Dig out recordings from 1991 and 1992 and you’ll hear crowds yell that final line back at the stage with something close to joy. It’s a collective in-joke that lands like catharsis.

If you’re the type who measures love in formats, a “Sliver” vinyl 7-inch is a trophy. Sub Pop copies crop up in the wild now and then, often scuffed from decades of real use, which feels right for a song this lived-in. If you’re keen to buy Nirvana records online, keep an eye on reputable sellers, because condition and provenance matter and the market shifts. Plenty of Melbourne record store crates have coughed up a copy for lucky diggers, and there’s healthy demand across vinyl records Australia more broadly. If you’re building a run of Nirvana albums on vinyl, this single sits neatly alongside Bleach and Nevermind, a compass point between the two. And if you’re chasing Nirvana vinyl for the sound alone, the raw cut of “Sliver” is exactly what a turntable is for.

What keeps me coming back is the way “Sliver” refuses to posture. It doesn’t beg to be Important, yet it ends up feeling like a Rosetta Stone for the band. Two minutes of pure intent, catchy as a cold, jagged around the edges, and oddly tender. Spin it, flip it to “Dive,” and you’ve got the story of Nirvana’s pivot told in under six minutes. Not many so-called minor releases can claim that.