20 years on from the release of Nirvana’s Nevermind, there are plenty of people asking which album of recent years we’ll all be looking back at in the 2030s as a seminal masterpiece. I’m making a case that the next Nirvana, was not a band at all, but a mobile phone.
In 2006, I was travelling on a bus from London to Cardiff, en route I was working, replying to emails, taking calls, playing Fifa 07, listening to music, arranging my night out via SMS – all from my mobile phone. I felt like a wizard. No one else on the bus had the kind of power I had with my Nokia N95. Even if they had, it’s very likely they wouldn’t have known how to wield it with such devastating precision and grace.
To accomplish the above feats of mobile computing took a great deal of figuring out how to navigate sub menus, sync mail servers, transfer music from CD to MP3 to PC to phone, download 3rd party apps for gaming and productivity and so on. Pretty standard fare these days, but this was 2006. When it came to mobile computing, I was a virtuoso, taking my device to the limits of its capabilities. This seemed like a glorious future, one where I had the upper hand on the sticky masses, untethered from my desktop, free.
The iPhone annoyed me. It annoyed me in the same way that the emergence of Nirvana as a dominant force in rock music must have annoyed Axl Rose. The mobile web was for people with technical competence – geeks – what the hell was Apple playing at putting it in the hands of people on the street?
I nearly lost it one day when some bozo with an iPhone started showing me how he could use Google maps to find his way to the pub. HE was showing ME how to use the internet. The nerve!
I duly whipped out my freshly upgraded N96 and began showing him how I could do exactly the same thing on my Nokia. Just hold on while it loads. Hang on. Hang on. Hang on. Wait, it’s crashed, I’ll just pop out the battery and boot it up. It’s really good when it works. Hang on. Time passes. The subject changes. I feel like a bozo.
I remember where I was when I first heard the Sex Pistols. I was 15 years old, and on the stairs in my family home, my older brother was blaring out Holidays in the Sun. Earlier that year he’d gotten me heavily into Led Zepplin, and I couldn’t get my head around this noise I was now hearing. Then a Month or so later it clicked.
As an aspiring drummer, I’d listened in rapt awe to the syncopations of John Bonham, trying my best to get my head around what he was doing on the drumkit. With the Sex Pistols, I could already play every drum part in the entire album. It was a life changing revelation – it meant I could be in a band!
This is the key to punk rock – it takes creativity out of the hands of the virtuoso; anyone can play guitar! Succesive generations of kids got this same revelation, leading from Wire and Joy Division through to Husker Du, the Butthole Surfers and the Melvins terminating at Nirvana. Nirvana had the same effect on the mainstream of music as did the Sex Pistols in the 70s, but on a much grander scale. While Nevermind is being rightly remembered as a watershed cultural achievement, the iPhone will be remembered in 30 years time for similar cultural reasons and with similar cultural results.
The capacitive touchscreen user interface was the Smells Like Teen Spirit moment of the internet.
In the same way that Nirvana pissed off Guns n’ Roses by making them look like ridiculous posturing fools, Apple subverted its competition leaving them flat footed and gasping. Example: take a look at Android’s UI circa 2006:
Likewise, both Nirvana and Apple came onto the scene as underdogs and have struggled to keep their cred in the face of mainstream acceptance. I am not going to draw any parallels between Steve Jobs and Kurt Cobain.
In summary, punk rock is all about disrupting the mainstream, and the iPhone was the most punk rock thing to happen since Nevermind hit the charts. Ever feel like you’ve been cheated?












