The first time I listened to Nirvana’s In Utero, I felt the same way I do upon finishing a horror movie. I felt shocked and exhausted; it was the first (and as of now, only) time an album made me feel that way. Given my love for scary movies, In Utero quickly became one of my favorite albums. With Halloween quickly approaching, it felt like a great time to return to this masterpiece.

In Utero was crafted as a direct response to the popularity and commercial success the band’s previous album, Nevermind, reached. Like other prominent 1990s bands, Nirvana did not enjoy their newfound status and fame. Their millions had come at the cost of abandoning their anti-commercial ethos, enduring the pressure of increased expectations and sacrificing their privacy. Lacking pride over his most successful achievement, the band’s frontman, Kurt Cobain, set out to create an album that was as “raw” as possible. What resulted was waves of guitar distortion, thunderous drumming and lyrics sometimes so unintelligible even Cobain himself didn’t know what he was singing. And it was absolutely fantastic.

The album manages to have a rather diverse selection of songs despite maintaining a fundamentally unpolished sound. The adrenaline-pumping “Heart-Shaped Box” is side-by-side with the chaotic and confusing “Scentless Apprentice.” The absolutely haunting desperation of “Pennyroyal Tea” is only a track apart from the pure short noise rock of “Tourettes.” All throughout there is a loud, unrefined feel to every track that makes me feel constantly on edge, which, as I learned the hard way, makes it a terrible album to listen to while driving through rush hour traffic.

In Utero doesn’t come off as abrasive to listen to, despite the loud, unfiltered sounds. Throughout all the distortion and the screaming, the songs still present as melodic, especially the choruses. The melodies never quite reach the addictive highs of Nevermind, but they still exude the effortless simplicity of the band's signature style. For example, songs like “Heart Shaped Box” and “All Apologies” use their quiet sections to build tension before launching into huge choruses.

Speaking of “All Apologies,” I think this track best exemplifies what In Utero is really about. It starts off with a relatively slow, almost calming baseline as Cobain bemoans his newfound fame. Right as the intro brings the listener into a lull, the chorus kicks in, bringing with it the album’s typical heavy distortion and screaming that contrasts from the understated intro. The song repeats this progression once more, before the baseline from the intro takes over the song again, but this time faster, grittier and joined by guitars. Cobain then begins to repeat “All in all is all we are” 20 times as the music fades out and his words almost start to sound like an echo before the album ends.

In Utero is an incredibly captivating experience. It manages to be abrasive and melodic, horrific and beautiful, jarring and peaceful all at the same time. It’s one of the last great rock albums from the 1980s and 1990s when rock was on top of the world. To this day, it still lingers as an utter favorite of mine that has as much power as a horror film, without even needing a camera.

Thumbnail graphic by Jessica Chen / North by Northwestern