In Utero powerfully made the case that he would be his own man, goddamnit, but that he wouldn't destroy his talent in the process. It was a rare show of defiance that doesn't come across as petty or smug. But, lord, is it angry. The songs are still there, and they've survived intact. But it divided people at the time, and still does. Nirvana fans who get tired of the fairweathers going on and on about Nevermind cling to In Utero as their badge of honor, as proof of their true band loyalty. I wouldn't put myself in that category of supporter, but I do prefer In Utero simply because I feel like it still isn't finished telling me things about Cobain. Nevermind feels almost too perfect: It's lovely rush of hooks and ennui can almost pass right through you, especially as the years accumulate. In Utero keeps punching people in the nose; you can't wash dishes or pay bills when it's on. You keep checking back with it to see if it's lost any of its aggression, to see if it's decided to kiss and make up. It hasn't.