from the EP Shine, Stardog Records, 1989
“…he who rides the pony must someday fall…” A sorrowfully frequent tale amongst junkies is death by accidental overdose: either (1) of those recently released from rehab, with victims often forgetting to account for the loss of tolerance that such a time away generates, getting caught up in the eager adrenalin rush which is a relapse, or (2) individuals who get a bag of dope that is unexpectedly clean, transforming their standard dose into a fatal calamity, and paying dearly for it. Both scenarios often get brought up when discussions about the tragic & untimely death of Andrew Wood arise, singer of proto-grunge bands Malfunkshun and, more notably, Mother Love Bone (he OD’d only a couple of days before their debut album was to be released, with band members Stone Goddard & Jeff Ament then going on to form Pearl Jam), a person who by all accounts was one of the most talented, driven & all-around fun human beings that many of his pals had (have?) ever been around. Having watched a booter of MLB’s documentary entitled “The Love Bone Earth Affair”, which contains all sorts of wonderfully raw interview footage with him (including an interview he does entirely while holding onto a large stuffed animal named Freddie the frog), I have to agree, there certainly was a rather magnetic quality to his charisma, something which convincingly sucks the observer right into his glamorous world of glitter, stars & golden fruit; his stage persona was obviously influenced a lot by KISS and Queen, but the quirks to his glam-trash image and vocal styling come across awfully similar to Silverhead front man Michael Des Barres. “…but I'm proud to say, and I won't forget, time spent laying by her side…” Like many music fans in their thirties, I have a special set of memories relating to this epic song, thanks to its inclusion on the soundtrack for ‘90s grunge slacker opus Singles, heard at a time when I was gleefully smoking copious amounts of pot, tripping on acid, and duly flunking out of school. Chloe, those weeks spent stoned & laughing in the woods of NMH still rank among the most blissfully carefree of my entire outlandish life, thank you…
from the 7” single, Sub Pop Records, 1988
These early Nirvana tracks have never really come to sound dated, perhaps in part because the musical influences which served as grist for Cobain’s mill at this stage (Melvins, Meat Puppets, Dino Jr., Scratch Acid, etc…) have fallen so far off the radar that we’ve never been submitted to a proper revival, but one can’t deny the eagerness with which they attacked their instruments, a sloppy and unprejudiced expression of post-adolescent ambivalence. Speaking of which, aren’t we due for a resuscitation of all things flannel, unkempt & loose-fitting (in keeping with the twenty-year retro rule)? Anyways, back to the music, which always came first for Cobain, particularly early on, and it was something he often made reference to in interviews, wondering why in the hell reviewers kept vigilantly analyzing his words (often written on the spot, as an afterthought). With that in mind, forgive my hindsight here, but given the complications he wound up having with stardom later on, it’s glumly ironic that they came out of the gate with a song called “Big Cheese”--- obviously not intentional, but sadly prescient.
from the LP Uncle Anesthesia, Epic Records, 1991
Criminally underrated and probably wounded by the ‘grunge’ label which they were eventually pegged under, the Screaming Trees were never an easy band to categorize, something I admit being rather partial to: way too brash and clamoring to be considered neo-psych, but far too hazy and stoned to fit the alt-metal mold of the other grunge idols. Hailing from the sleepy mountains of central Washington state, the Trees worked really hard at sculpting their own sound, and almost their entire discography carries an instantly recognizable vibe that is theirs alone; equal parts British Invasion, mid-career Cream era psych rock, Feelies-like post-punk, and some Sabbath thrown in for good effect, all capped off by Mark Lanegan’s distinctive crooning. Their move from indie grail SST to Epic records was a risky one for a cult act, but it really served their sound well, and this LP was produced by none other than Chris Cornell (ala Soundgraden); the rhythm section flies along at breakneck speed while layers of fuzzy guitars wash over you in waves, Lanegan’s woozy delivery surprising at every turn, “…on a day so long ago, now no one can remember, there's a change, this too will pass and vanish in the haze; this is moving too far, under the skin of your sight, ocean of confusion took me back to the end of the night… transparent dreams fade in my head, in my eyes; I'm looking back for one last time…” Sandblasting psychedelic mayhem at its finest--- peyote buttons sold separately!
from the LP Badmotor- finger A&M Records, 1991
The new year always brings with it a renewed sense of direction, shallow though it may be, as we are socialized to feel like this particular moment in time (each year) has some real kind of lasting significance beyond the meaning we’ve given it culturally; as the Thomas Theorem states, once people define situations as “real”, those situations become real in their consequences, and so many of us utilize the opportunity to give us an illusory boost to any pursuits of self-improvement we might happen to be engaged in. Those looking for a pep talk of the musical variety need look no further than this smoking hot album opener by Seattle area stalwarts Soundgarden, “…but I'm gonna break, I'm gonna break my, I'm gonna break my rusty cage and run…”; this tracks rages so hard, due in large part to the thunderous attack of guitarist Kim Thayil, one of the most criminally underrated players out there---you can’t fuck with those riffs man! Unabashed metal heads from the start, these cats carved out a niche for themselves inside the larger grunge scene which set them apart, and quite frankly, everything Chris Cornell has been apart of since just pales in comparison, in my humble opinion anyways.
from the 12” All Apologies, Geffen Records, 1993
Excepting for that week which followed the announcement of Cobain’s death, I didn’t really listen to any of my Nirvana albums for a while afterwards, a fact which I didn’t even realize until I popped Bleach in my car a few years ago and it was like getting punched in the face it felt so new. I think his suicide upset me more than I initially let on, and the latent effect was my shelving of those tunes for a period of time; meanwhile, my path changed dramatically, the rave scene altered my life for a while and rock music in general wasn’t heard around my home that much, for years actually. At any rate, I’m happy to be enjoying Nirvana’s music again, sifting through the influences more clearly, basking in his bleak sense of humor. The lyrics to this particular song are a good example of that light-heartedness, “…she has a moist vagina, I particularly enjoy the circumference; I've been sucking the walls of her anus, anilingus…I prefer her to any other, Marijuana, Marijuana, Marijuana…” Is it a graphically indulgent ode to freshly harvested sensi, or was Kurt letting us know that he liked to rim out his girl’s ass when he got stoned? We may never know, but I’m grateful for the quandary just the same.
from the 7” single, Sub Pop Records, 1988
Emerging from the gutters of Seattle like some deformed & distorted mutation of post-hardcore craziness, Mudhoney continues to be the gold standard by which “grunge” rock will be judged; appropriately enough, as their ranks included members of both the Melvins and Green River, two bands that are generally considered to be the foundational loins from which grunge was birthed. Their sound was much less influenced by heavy metal than the above-mentioned bands, being guided instead by the ghosts of hardcore and sludgy indie rock, owing as much to garage punks like the Replacements as they did to bands like Sonic Youth or Dinosaur Jr. Between the wind-up, stop-start drumming, the tornadic squall of guitar death, and filthy lyrics (i.e. “…I'm diseased, I don't mind, I'll make you love me 'till the day you die…touch me, I'm sick; fuck me, I'm sick…Come on baby, now cum with me, if you don't cum, if you don’t cum, if you don't cum, you'll die alone...”), this maelstrom of a track makes a pretty damn good case for all the hype & attention that Seattle wound up getting in its wake!
from the EP Shine, Stardog Records, 1989
