Losing Lanegan

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.

Grunge Redux Returns - Fully Vax'ed and Ready to Rock

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.

Seeing Filthy Friends (and feeling damn good about it)

I caught the West Coast tour kick-off for Filthy Friends (and Eyelids) last night at Neumo’s. The show hit all the right marks for the age and style of fan that I assuredly have become. Both bands delivered accomplished sets. Recognizable icons filled the stage. The crowd grooved but no one got hurt. And we all got back on the road elsewhere at a very agreeable time. As my wife just commented when I gave her my morning coffee recap, “sounds like the perfect Dad rock evening.” Yes, indeed.

Filthy Friends (left to right) - Kurt Block, Scott McCaughey, Corin Tucker, Linda Pitmon, Peter Buck

Before you take that as snark, dear reader, allow me to add a few deets. Filthy Friends are a true supergroup made up of Corin Tucker (Sleater-Kinney, and various side projects), Peter Buck (R.E.M., ditto), Kurt Bloch (Fastbacks…), Linda Pitmon (Zu Zu’s Petals…) and Scott McCaughey (The Young Fresh Fellows…). They live in Seattle, Portland, and NYC. They concentrated on their new album (“Emerald Valley”) released last week. Add up the amount of performing years experience on the stage and the tally would reach well into a second century. In other words, they’ve each forgotten more about rock ‘n roll than any of us will ever know firsthand. They do their jobs and look like they’re having fun up there.

Tucker and McCaughey

Admittedly, I was there to see Scott McCaughey first and foremost. He’s one of the often uncredited icons of the exponential growth in Seattle’s music scene through the mid-’90s. By the time I’d rolled into town back in ‘93, The Young Fresh Fellows had already earned an honorary emeritus professorial position locally. Do yourself a favor if you’re not acquainted with them and give a listen to “The Fabulous Sounds of the Pacific Northwest” (1984) on Spotify. While you’re at it, check out Fastbacks “Very, Very Powerful Motor” (1990)…but I digress. The point being that I always loved McCaughey’s unpretentious swagger on stage. Which made the news that he’d suffered a stroke back in 2017 all the more jarring. The good news is that he’s doing great. He now looks like Christopher Lloyd as Doc Brown in the “Back to the Future” movies. And while the interplay between the players may not be as natural as a group who’ve been together for years in the van and on the stage, they made me just plain feel good about being out to see a show at my favorite club on a Thursday night. Even when a group of well-soused, much younger club goers weaseled their way in front of me prior to the encore…including one oversized dood who appeared to be as over-wide as he was over-tall and over-served…I couldn’t help but laugh at myself for even getting a slight bit annoyed at the pluck on them. It is rock ‘n roll, after all. Long may it live. Especially if it gets me out, inspired, and then home not long after 11pm on a weeknight.

Grunge Redux Happy Hour tour this Friday...Brunch tour on Saturday, 4/14

30 years ago this month, a series of curious events occurred that would eventually shift the plates of Seattle's seemingly sedate cultural bedrock. Sub Pop Records signed a lease on office space in Belltown on a metaphorically significant April Fools Day. Nirvana played their first two Seattle shows. Mudhoney also played their first show, seven years after their lead singer, Mark Arm, unintentionally coined the much-loathed yet essential term "grunge" in a letter to the long-since defunct punk zine, "Desperate Times." To go further down that rabbit hole, Mudhoney formed from the split nucleus of the band Green River, which also led to the formation of Mother Love Bone. For the non-geeks out there and/or anyone else still reading, Pearl Jam formed in part from Mother Love Bone, after the tragic death of their lead singer, Andy Wood, in 1990. As one might say in a deep, movie-trailer quality voiceover, "in a world where few bands dared to believe they could succeed...now there were many...and soon there'd be many many more."

Whether or not its obvious, I've continued to polish the chrome and tweak the carburetor on my Grunge Redux walking tour through parts of downtown Seattle. And without being a noodge...too late...I want to point y'all toward my revised calendar for upcoming tours. 

This Friday, 4/6, I'm doing another Happy Hour tour starting at 4pm. And then the Saturday after next, 4/14, I'm doing my first Brunch tour starting at 10:30. In both iterations, we'll walk an approximately two-mile path through Belltown and finish up at KEXP's Gathering Space in Seattle Center. The many stops along the way make this a two-hour-plus-a-skoch storytelling journey.

If you've not received or just not bothered to read through one of my promos previously, there's more detail on my website along with a schedule through August. Tickets are $50/person, although cheaper as pairs or even more so in bigger groups. I'll happily reply with timely answers if you lob back questions. Or I'll send along all the logistical details you'll need if you pick out tickets that appeal to you.

As has always been the case with my Grunge Redux tours, there's an element of improv drawn from the particular interests of those along for the walk. Feel free to tell me what you yearn to hear covered. Please bear in mind that you needn't be versed in the grunge era (which I bookend with stories that place the action between 1985 and 1996-ish). Or if you're a Seattle music super geek, I still believe I can add to that with deep cuts and thoughtfully researched connective logic. All ages are welcome, although there will be opportunities for the grown ups to stop briefly for beverages along the way. In which case, the all ages ticket holders get to play in the figurative street.

I believe this immersive history tour makes an essential boom era in Seattle's history return to life. Imagine the Underground Tour of Pioneer Square. But with careful research, fresh air and even fresher shtick. I'd be stoked to show y'all some of what I've learned along this path. Regardless, I hope you're well and ready for whatever new stories are being currently generated all over the Great Northwest.

This Day in Seattle Music History - The Ramones Rock The Olympic Hotel

Today's the anniversary of the first time the Ramones played in Seattle. When they rolled through in March of '77 to promote their second album, they'd just been screwed over on ill-chosen gigs in Bremerton and Aberdeen. Thankfully, some enterprising local punks with an eye toward much greater things took a chance and suggested an all-ages Seattle show. The result became legendary. Booked in the totally posh Olympic Hotel's Georgian Room...currently advertised as the "only downtown Seattle dining option offering traditional afternoon tea service"...the Ramones pulled off an epic show. Connections were made. Everyone got paid. Halfway across the country, I was in elementary school. Nonetheless, I can imagine what an effect it had on the 400 to 500 lucky punks who were downtown that Sunday night.

Not that long thereafter...and 40 years ago this past Sunday...Seattle's gestating DIY punk scene got its first real (albeit short-lived) venue. The Bird. Even though it only hung on at 107 Spring St. for three months before getting booted into a more vagabond floating life around Seattle, promoters started thinking big(ger). It wasn't long before Seattle would get Larry "The current (Unofficial) Mayor of Georgetown" Reid's gallery/club Roscoe Louie in Pioneer Square, the U District's Rainbow Tavern (at 722 NE 45th St. next to the Blue Moon) would become a room with pull, and a Jewish bingo hall previously named the Talmud-Torah would be rechristened Seattle's most influential big room, The Showbox. Others followed. Inspiration(s) ebbed and flowed. The story continues...

That Ramones show, those evolving venues, the punks who were figuring out they could link up what had been a long-ignored cultural outpost here in Seattle with the broader national story: these are just a few of the pieces that fell into place for what would become the massively over-exposed grunge era here in Seattle. For me, searching for those layers and hunting for puzzle pieces across Seattle's landscape is an endlessly fascinating hobby. Maybe you can join me on a tour sometime soon to check out what's out there and worth pursuing? The stories themselves bring me great pleasure. But seeing where they actually unfolded? That's the best part.

As an aside for location nerds who (like myself) are always looking for the backstory, don't forget that the Olympic Hotel is also on the original site of the University of Washington dating all the way back to 1861 (previously called the Territorial University of Washington before statehood arrived in 1889). There's a plaque out front. And it's worth looking across the street at the ruins beneath the former Rainier Square mall and the oddly exposed base of the Rainier Tower (designed by Minoru Yamasaki, who also designed the former World Trade Center in NYC). So many layers of downtown Seattle stories, so little time.

I should thank Peter Blecha's research for HistoryLink.org and Steven Tow for his book "The Strangest Tribe" for whetting my appetite to explore more of this amazing chapter in Seattle's history. It surely didn't seem like it at the time, but those few phone calls to promoters back in the 1977 continue to reverberate up through the current moment. Amazing how culture can do that for a place, doncha think?

Announcing a (Re)Launch Tour date - Saturday 3/3 @ 10am

Nevermind the clichés. Grunge Redux, my always-evolving and deeply-researched storytelling tour, returns! Peek into some of coolest corners of the over-exposed yet still somehow superunknown grunge era. Dig deeper into the dirt around this Town's musical roots. Gain insight into what led to the sonic boom that turned "Seattle" from a proper noun into an adjective (think "Seattle band"). And connect a whole lotta dots for a clearer picture of the upheaval caused by the music and culture that came from here.

Expect to walk a path where many influential bands from the mid-80s through the late-90s cut teeth, stumbled repeatedly, and earned cred. Stops will feature largely unmarked notable locations worth remembering throughout Belltown and beyond. This short-term side project will split up and go our separate ways at KEXP's Gathering Space in Seattle Center.

This will be a motivated trek...with a few well-timed pit stops...covering approximately two miles. Be prepped to walk and withstand the elements (chilly temps are forecast through the weekend). No matter how long you've lived in Seattle, expect that you'll hear funny and real stories that provide a new context for an influential era. 

Send me an email (eric "at" seattlegrungeredux.com) if you'd like in. I'll respond with detail(s) of where to meet. Space is (very) limited. Payment will be up to you...this is a one-time offer before I roll this out more regularly...I typically charge $50/person. Future tour offerings will occur approximately twice monthly. 

Please note that my tour isn't connected with The Croc's gathering later Saturday to celebrate the 40th anniversary of The Bird (Seattle's first punk club @ 107 Spring St.). Although that gig's highly recommended. 

You know you want to know more about Seattle's grunge era. So why not join me for the walk that rocks? Rain or shine, it'll be a good time.