“If you’re a sexist, racist, homophobe or basically an asshole, don’t buy this CD,” Kurt Cobain infamously wrote in the liner notes of Nirvana’s final studio album In Utero. “I don’t care if you like me; I hate you.”
Amid the current political climate in the UK – a landscape increasingly hostile towards any notion of difference and defiance – it’s rare for chart-topping artists and global megastars to be as explicit in their support of marginalised communities as Cobain once was.
“On one hand, it’s kind of cringe,” writer, theatre maker and performer Emma Frankland laughs as we discuss the significance of this flawed figure that we both grew up revering. “But on the other hand, that cuts across something.”
This summer, Frankland brings her bold, tender, and timely solo show to the Edinburgh Fringe, which pays homage to Cobain and references the long-standing internet rumours that have circulated around the musician’s gender identity. No Apologies is both a celebration and a lament, using the speculative possibility that Cobain might have been trans as a point of departure to explore grief, mythology, music, and the act of dreaming oneself into spaces society tries to keep closed.
The resulting production is part spoken-word, part performance art, part music gig. And while Cobain’s presence permeates the piece, “It isn’t really about Kurt Cobain,” Frankland explains. “There’s a lot of Kurt Cobain in it, but it’s about the importance of wishful thinking in broader societies. What would it mean if they had come out as trans? How would that have affected my life? How would that affect other people’s lives? Who knows if Kurt was trans, but I think we can be fairly confident that he would have been a vocal ally and supporter of the trans community.”
Frankland has a deeply personal connection to Nirvana’s music. A self-described ‘90s kid’, she remembers watching the iconic MTV Unplugged concert at the age of fourteen and feeling a resonance that went far beyond fandom. “I grew up in a coastal town that was very straight and scary to grow up in as a queer person. There was something about grunge that always felt queer. It felt like I could access something in it that I couldn’t elsewhere.”
In the days and weeks following Cobain’s death in April 1994, Nirvana’s MTV Unplugged set was played on a loop on televisions around the world. The sombre performance, filmed just five months before Cobain’s body was found, felt to many like a goodbye, the abundance of lilies and candles on set adding to its funereal effect. Whether or not Cobain meant it as a farewell, the gig is renowned for its powerfully raw and emotionally charged atmosphere, Nirvana’s stripped back renditions of their songs and covers offering a moment of solace as well as a reminder of why this band, and indeed Cobain, spoke to so many.
Cobain’s tragic death was Frankland’s first experience with the concept of celebrity loss – an encounter that continues to shape the emotional landscape of No Apologies. “I think it’s hard to think about Kurt Cobain without thinking about how they died,” she says. “There’s obviously a huge epidemic of loss within the trans community. And giving the initial concept more space and time has allowed me to go deeper. What is compelling about this person being trans? What does that open up?”
While the show has been touring as a solo piece, Frankland has also developed a band version featuring trans musicians and friends from Brighton. They perform selected songs from the MTV Unplugged concert including ‘Come As You Are’, ‘Dumb’, and, of course, ‘All Apologies’.
“The whole show really is a bit of a love letter to ‘All Apologies’. I use a lot of the lyrics to unpack throughout the show.”
For Frankland, this band version – set to be performed over two nights towards the end of the Fringe – is a dream come true. “I’ve never been in a band before, and it’s felt really incredible to be in a band, and incredible that that band is kind of Nirvana. There’s a lot of wish fulfillment in it for me.”
In grappling with the enduring cultural impact of Cobain, No Apologies questions the value and limits of celebrity mythmaking. “Kurt Cobain being trans isn’t going to save us,” Frankland says. “But we need each other to be there. And I feel like that’s what I wish for Kurt Cobain – that they had people around them to be in community with.”
It’s a powerful conclusion to a performance that touches on suicide, identity, and what it means to be visible. “We can go to some places that are undone. We can talk about suicide. We can talk about what happens if we’re not allowed to live our authentic lives. And then also, we can find a way to pick ourselves up together, talk about what action we can do and leave the theatre with our heads held high. I’m not interested in leaving people on the floor.”
When asked why Cobain still resonates, Frankland is clear: the music, the emotion, the radical vulnerability. “Kurt belonged to everyone, because they never had a chance to disappoint us. So we can hold on to the version we know. For me, I can be like, yeah, the trans Kurt Cobain – what would that have been if she’d come out?”
No Apologies isn’t about nostalgia though; it’s about reimagining the future – and who gets to be part of it. “Speaking from a trans perspective, we are in an absolutely abundant time of role models and representation. But it would be great for more people to stand up.
“It’s been a really tough time to be a trans person in the UK,” Frankland continues. “The first preview of the show was the same day that the Supreme Court judgment ruling came out. It’s been weird and it’s an interesting time to be navigating.”
Frankland is keen to emphasise that No Apologies is not a show about defeat – it’s about resistance, imagination, and finding community in unexpected places, even, perhaps, in the legacy of a rock icon gone too soon. With her mix of visual experimentation and writing rooted in honesty, Frankland brings a signature approach to No Apologies. And whether you catch the solo version or the full band, the show promises to be one of the most vital offerings at this year’s Fringe.
“Come through,” Frankland urges. “Be changed. And leave fired up.”
No Apologies, Anatomy Lecture Theatre, Summerhall, 31 Jul-24 Aug (not 5, 11, 18), 8.45pm; Dissection Room, Summerhall, 21 & 23 Aug, 5.30pm