I was driving through the freezing slop between Milwaukee and Green Bay yesterday when I heard the news of Mark Lanegan’s passing. Like so many music fans spread across the world, I paused a moment when this karmic uppercut hit. Lanegan seemed to be constantly reinventing something in himself. His origins in Screaming Trees were bound to float to the top of all the obits and tributes, as were tales of his complex reputation as “Dark Mark” who famously battled addiction and his original bandmates among others. Lanegan also gave the world a granular explanation of what ailed him, drawing not only on his amazing voice but the depths backing that sound. The latter stages of his career as a writer and most recently as a human suffering through a rough bout of COVID-19 added layers of complexity that I appreciated with newfound respect. I’m in a weird, fortunate position as someone who occasionally served up big helpings of nostalgia to music fans visiting Seattle because many people would offer back to me personal stories of why they still give a rip about the grunge era’s music and the people who made it. Obviously, the more time that passes since the period of Seattle’s peak grunginess, the more often artists like Lanegan will leave us behind. In my experience, anyone who cares about music and musicians has a supply of stories in the karmic hopper ready to serve up. I find constantly refreshed examples amidst the daily postings of the eight-plus-thousand no-bullshit fans on a simply brilliant Facebook group (Pacific Northwest Music Archives). Those folks again rose to the challenge of having something smart and funny to offer in the wake of yesterday’s news. Many somethings, actually. For anyone who ends up here randomly, you should bounce over yonder to the PNWA group on Facebook, too. Of the few things I currently check on the socials, that group of lovely randomness essentially gets my eyeballs most often.
I will offer one quick story as a tribute to Lanegan, since that’s the point of returning to this blog after such a long time away from regular-ish posting. On the third grunge tour I ever gave way almost five years ago, I was showing around the Danish Ambassador to America and a six-pack of cool-as-ice Nordic chefs visiting Seattle for a culinary conference. One of the coolest (although it wasn’t a competition) was an Icelandic chef named Gunnar who mentioned in passing how Lanegan was his favorite musician from these here parts. I think Lanegan had visited his restaurant in Reyjavik at some point. Oh to have the life of a rock star or Michelin-star worthy chef, with all the travel benefits that sometimes includes. Anyhoo, I didn’t have much of a mental script at that time other than a sincere appreciation for the Screaming Trees who never broke through broadly amidst all their break-ups and the other forgettable drama that characterized Lanegan during the early to mid 1990s.
That day Gunnar and I connected the dots between the roots of the Trees in Ellensburg, Seattle, leading to Reyjavik and plenty of other places. Add various parts of Wisconsin to that list as I think this all through while visiting family and doing some interviews for my other book project. The point being that music more often than not connects us with a past but hopefully also updated version of ourselves. Or maybe nostalgia is a trap door that springs open on occasion, through which we tumble whether by choice or because tragedy throws us a curveball. Or maybe we go down the nostalgia path because we like the ride. Or maybe I’m just inspired by the sheer madness of Lanegan having done enough for a few lifetimes in just 57 years on this planet that I just had to offer my condolences today to all those who knew him as a friend. We all should be so lucky as to have the world pause and reflect on our passing. Then shuffle through some of our work to flex the memory circuits and maybe shake free some fresh nuggets of wisdom. A small part of me wishes my rental car had a cassette deck to do so. Well, not really. I’m not planning to track down 30-year-old cassettes on this trip. And I’ll be driving in the snow as I head up to the Northwoods tomorrow. There was a time when a 1980s-era Buick would seem like a safe sled to be steering through whatever Wisconsin’s planning to throw at me. Those days have passed. As has Mark Lanegan. May he find the peace he so richly sought while among us.
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For those expecting an update on new tour scheduling, sorry to disappoint. I’m only doing those for people who reach out and give me a good reason for doing so. Meaning the door’s not shut entirely. New stories still come up and I’m encouraged by the post-Omicron variant stage we’re entering. But I wouldn’t expect a regular tour schedule any day soon. That band isn’t getting back together.
For those waiting on my promises from 2021, my “Seattle Redux” podcast is still coming soon-ish. It’ll drop at some point in 2022. Admittedly, the collective brouhaha around Joe Rogan and Spotify caused me to reconsider my chosen channel for distribution. So I’m weighing options and will update when I have news to spill. My first season will focus on the grunge era and the physical map of Seattle neighborhoods. One of those episodes focuses on 1992 or what I’ve come to script as the “Year that Grunge Broke…and Seattle, too.” Whether you lived through the mid-80s to later-90s or just care to get a new view of what happened then in Seattle, it’ll be a hoot.
Good luck untangling the knot of emotions conjured up by daily life, wherever you may rock. And thanks for checking in. Stay safe and be well.
After so long locked down and kept away from the things we all love, Seattle’s opening up again. We all need to stay vigilant, my fellow travelers. But now that I’m testing new material and thankfully fully vax’ed against COVID, the time has come for an official announcement.
Grunge Redux tours start up again this week and will continue through September.
If you click through, you’ll see the specifics of twenty Grunge Redux tour dates scheduled from this Thursday (July 1st) through September 24th. This new tour calendar coincides with some special grunge-era anniversaries. Many keen-eyed observers will recognize the 30th-anniversary release dates for Pearl Jam’s first album (Ten debuted on August 24, 1991) and Nirvana’s single Smells Like Teen Spirit (September 10, 1991). I’ll finish up this limited run of dates 30 years to the day both Nirvana’s second album (Nevermind) and Soundgarden’s arguably best album (Badmotorfinger) hit record stores. I’ll feature exciting new material added to the stories told along my route through Seattle’s cultural history.
September’s also when I’ll drop the first episode of my new podcast - Seattle Redux. My first season of what the kids are probably already calling “SeaRe” (or probably not…) will focus on a saucy mix of the hidden roots and glorious off-shoots of Seattle’s musical evolution. This multi-episode historical tour of Seattle will kick off in the mid-1980s and crisscross the decades like a Tarantino script on steroids. My podcast will mirror the tour that digs deep into the places and the people that populated the world’s ongoing love affair with the Pacific Northwest. Love it or loathe it - “grunge” is a bumper sticker that’ll never be fully scraped off of Seattle history.
For those new to this jam, my original aim in devising Grunge Redux was to embrace an era's deeper roots rather than fall into cliched retellings. To dig, not bury. Call it generational arrogance, but I hoped a Gen X’er could deliver a friendly all-ages analog tour of one of the greatest regional American music scenes. Countless online magazines and cultural dumpster divers continually shovel glorious recap heaps of what happened in early-90s Seattle. I don’t set out to tell you what’s best in an inch-deep, barely-researched listicle. I’m a writer who moved to Seattle for grad school in the early ‘90s with an eye for authenticity and a semi-legendary memory for details.
When you take one of my tours, we’ll tromp out there where the proverbial meat hit the street. I’m certainly not the hardest working tour guide in the biz. 20 dates in three months? Yep - that’s what’ll fit in around everything else I have going on these days. This was a lovable side hustle from the get-go for me. I’ve been down this path of my own design nearly 100 times and met tour takers from 30 countries (before I stopped counting). Then I even took off for an eight-month swing through Africa when the buzz around Grunge Redux really was building. Oh, and then there was that whole pandemic. Meaning that over the past two years, Seattle’s venues and points of historical value have continued to disappear. As much as that sucks and in spite of my desire to preserve what I remember fondly, I’m not on a quest to lament what’s lost. I’m a guide and a music fan. In some cases, I’ll point you toward what was where back in the various eras (Seattle’s history has many worthwhile layers). In others, I’m telling you where to find what’s worth knowing in present-day Seattle. The way I lead folks around is a largely organic effort. Each tour is different. Why not take one and experience it for yourself?
With limited tour dates ready to roll (one already sold out while I was putting this post together), I’m probably going a bit deep on this post. Nonetheless, if you’re up for it, now’s a prime window to see where my storytelling time machine will take us. It’s a fleeting luxury I’m honored to share with a few inspired travelers. Come fall, I may hang it up again as other projects stretch me thin.
For those still reading (and my hard-working overpaid team of lawyers), I should say a few things about COVID and my adherence to the phased return to work in Washington State. In something resembling an order of importance:
1. I’ll say it again. I’m fully vaccinated. I would like to think that everyone who comes on my tour went down that same path as soon as they could. There have been, however, many challenging paths through this global pandemic. If you became infected with COVID but didn’t get the shots, you simply aren’t protected to the same degree as those who’ve gotten vax’ed. Don’t believe me? Take it up with Dr. Fauci. I care about you. So get the jab(s). Let me join the chorus - we all need to do our part.
2. On my tour, we will be outside and maintain proper social distancing. I will not encourage group hugs or give any piggyback rides.
3. We will, however, make a pit stop where adult or non-alcoholic beverage(s) may be enjoyed. In the past, that stop was always at the Back Bar of The Crocodile Cafe. Often we’d check out the performance space unless a band was doing a sound check for a show. The Croc has since shut down their original venue. The good news is that The Croc’s currently prepping a whole new musical wonderland in the old El Gaucho location a few blocks away (at the corner of First Avenue and Wall Street). Shows at the new Croc start in August. Until I can get navigate that soon-to-be-essential stop, our pitstop will be at the 5 Point Cafe in what some call Tilikum Place (a small square featuring a life-sized statue of Chief Seattle along Dexter Avenue near Seattle Center). That location has outdoor seating, which we will likely use. You may still be required to wear a mask if you head inside to check out their legendary jukebox or men’s room periscope view of the Space Needle (seriously). So bring a mask along. I will have extras in my ever-present bag o’ wonders, if need be.
4. If you’re NOT vax’ed, you should wear a mask everywhere. To be honest, you should make it easier for everyone and get vax’ed before you come to Seattle. Come here, as you are. Unless it is unvax’ed. In which case, come as you should be. We lead the nation’s cities in the rate of vaccination for good reasons. The first COVID cases in America were found here in January 2020 and the first deaths from the disease occurred in nearby Kirkland by the end of that February. Seattle and the surrounding communities took this pandemic seriously. We don’t want to go back to a lockdown situation. I got vax’ed and still wear a mask inside most places because I care about people aside from myself (who I also care about).
Here endeth my COVID statement-eth for the betterment-eth of all.
I’m excited about the new stories I’ve compiled in addition to the old favorites I’ve been dusting off as I get ready for prime time once again. I continue to be surprised by the people coming through Seattle with their own stories to tell about the music they love and what it means to them - no matter what era or place spawned said love. Seattle’s blessed by a reputation for a special musical sauce that continues bringing people here from all over the globe. I don’t subscribe to the maxim - “your band sucks.” In truth, everyone’s band sucks. To some other people. And who cares. Rather than offering the pollyanna-ish claim that everyone’s choice in music is equally valid, I head down the path that everyone can and should embrace their own brand of weird or nerdiness or gothic pessimism or mind-numbing cool. The one universal, however, should be an interest in learning more about the accurate history of where it all came from. Seattle’s a cultural onion worth peeling. That’s the cut of my jib. Once again, love it or loathe it, that’s how this tootsie rolls.
Most importantly, getting back to tours means getting a bit more back to the normal we all crave. I used some of my time in lockdown to think about why these sorts of cultural geography experiences matter. I won’t say that my thinking evolved - my appreciation for this sort of immersive storytelling is why I started this company. I’m just a bit more focused and tons more thankful for the opportunity to interact with folks on the streets of Seattle. Lob me questions, if they arise. Or just plunk down your hard-earned cash for a few hours of entertainment and maybe a few original thoughts to bring a nostalgic era back into focus. Get vax’ed. Then hug someone and tell everyone you know that you’re happy to see them. Get ready to rock. Here’s hoping to see y’all soon.
