Nirvana played the very first Big Day Out Festival at the Hordern Pavilion in Sydney, Australia on January 25, 1992 just as the worldwide mania that engulfed the band was continuing to build momentum.

Even as a fan, I never embraced the grunge uniform: I didn’t let my hair get shaggy and long, I never wore flannel in the middle of summer, I didn’t mope around for no good reason, and I never offered smug diatribes about how Kurt never wanted to be a rock star.

Nirvana signed with the label that had launched Guns N’ Roses into the stratosphere just four years earlier. Trust me, they wanted to be rock stars — Kurt himself just wasn’t ready for it.

Cobain wouldn’t have liked me. He was very open about his leftist views. I’m the opposite. But that didn’t matter as much back then; the way your spirit was moved by the growl and distortion of the music took precedence over the person or party for whom you voted.

I miss those days. I miss the sound of their brief revolution spawned from the dreariness of the Pacific Northwest. It was dirty and pure.

Fans still live somewhat vicariously through Dave’s continued success, but everyone will always miss Kurt.