The Strangest Tribe: How a Group of Seattle Rock Bands Invented Grunge

215 Pages·2011·1.89 MB·English

by  Stephen Tow

THE
STRANGEST
TRIBE
THE
STRANGEST
TRIBE
How a Group of Seattle Rock Bands
Invented Grunge
STEPHEN TOW
Copyright © 2011 by Stephen Tow
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form, or by any electronic,
mechanical, or other means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Published by Sasquatch Books
17 16 15 14 13 12 11 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Cover photograph: Charles Peterson Interior photographs: Charles Peterson, Neil Hubbard, Marty Perez,
and Stephen Tow Cover design: Henry Quiroga
Interior design and composition: Emily Ford Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Tow,
Stephen.
The strangest tribe: how a group of Seattle rock bands invented grunge / Stephen Tow.
p. cm.
Discography: p.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 978-1-57061-743-0
1. Grunge music—Washington (State)—Seattle—History and criticism.
2. Alternative rock music—Washington (State)—Seattle—History and criticism. I. Title.
ML3534.3.T69 2011
781.6609797'772--dc23
2011020055
Sasquatch Books
119 South Main Street, Suite 400
Seattle, WA 98104
[phone]
www.sasquatchbooks.com
[email protected]
In memory of my father,
Seymour Tow,
1918–1978.
CONTENTS
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
INTRODUCTION
CHAPTER 1: End of the Road
CHAPTER 2: KAOS in Olympia
CHAPTER 3: We Must Be Musicians
CHAPTER 4: The Deep Six Generation
CHAPTER 5: What’s Your Heavy?
CHAPTER 6: Wasted Landlords
CHAPTER 7: England Is Sending an Emissary!
CHAPTER 8: After the Gold Rush
APPENDIX: Little-Known Seattle Records You Should Listen To
INDEX
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First, I would like to thank my interviewees who graciously shared their life
experiences: Grant Alden, Dawn Anderson, Mark Arm, Jon Auer, Peter Barnes,
Jim Basnight, Leighton Beezer, Matt Bischoff, Al Bloch, Kurt Bloch, Jane
Brownson, James Burdyshaw, Shirley Carlson, Tina Casale, Chad Channing, Art
Chantry, John Conte, Blaine Cook, Kurt Danielson, Mike Davidson, Amy Denio,
Tad Doyle, Duff Drew, Jon Driver, Tom Dyer, Chris Eckman, Jack Endino,
Craig Ferguson, Todd Fleischman, Steve Fisk, John Foster, Mike Fuller, Gillian
Gaar, Milton Garrison, Jeff Gilbert, Greg Gilmore, Max Godsil, Stone Gossard,
Terry Lee Hale, Chris Hanzsek, Faith Henschel-Ventrello, Paul Hood, Neil
Hubbard, Ben Ireland, Calvin Johnson, Nate Johnson, Jeff Kelly, Joey Kline,
David Kulczyk, Jamie Lane, Michael Laton, Jim Lightfoot, Pete Litwin, Kurtiss
Lofstrom, Bret Lunsford, Scott McCaughey, Ben McMillan (R.I.P.), Lance
Mercer, Dave Middleton, Courtney Miller, Gary Minkler, Rod Moody, Rob
Morgan, Terry Morgan, Mike Musburger, Chris Newman, Kyle Nixon, Steve
Pearson, Charles Peterson, Mark Pickerel, Poki (Hugo) Piottin, Tom Price, Chris
Pugh, Stephen Rabow, Ned Raggett, Larry Reid, Rich Riggins, George
Romansic, Joe Ross, Robert Roth, Ron Rudzitis, Scott Schickler, Nick Scott,
Alex Shumway, Rob Skinner, Jeff Smith, Ken Stringfellow, Ben Thompson, Jim
Tillman, Damon Titus, Dan Trager, Everett True, Conrad Uno, Steve van Liew,
Scott Vanderpool, Bon Von Wheelie, Kim Warnick, Laura Weller-Vanderpool,
Dennis White, Kevin Whitworth, Rusty Willoughby, Kevin Wood, and Blake
Wright.
Second, I would like to offer an extra special thanks to the following people
who went above and beyond the call of duty: Leighton Beezer for helping me
connect the dots between 1983 and 1985; James Burdyshaw for setting up an
interview with the U-Men’s Tom Price; Kurt Danielson for his brilliant insight
and supportive ear; Jack Endino for providing music, fanzines, and general
encouragement; Chris Hanzsek for introducing me to Seattle’s neighborhoods
and surrounding mountains; Jim Basnight and Paul Hood for providing a starting
point; and Rob Morgan for being Rob Morgan.
Third, I would like to thank my agents Janet Rosen and Sheree Bykofsky; my
editors Whitney Ricketts and Michelle Hope Anderson and everyone at
Sasquatch Books who helped turn my vision into a reality; my sister Susan Louis
for her unwavering support; Professor Charles Hardy for inspiring me; the
helpful librarians at the University of Washington and Evergreen State College;
and the photographers who contributed to this book: Charles Peterson, Marty
Perez, and Neil Hubbard.
Finally, I want to thank my wife Irisa, my daughter Sami, and my labs Bear
(R.I.P.) and Coco for their invaluable support and for putting up with me during
this project. This book is dedicated to them.
INTRODUCTION
When you look at really where the Seattle thing started, and how it got off the ground . . . I mean
once there was [Nirvana’s] Nevermind, it’s not hard to figure out why there was a Pearl Jam and
a Soundgarden and everything else—because the phenomenon fed on itself quite easily. But how
do you get to a Nevermind?
—Leighton Beezer, the Thrown Ups

Seattle was rock and roll’s last best hope. Not since Liverpool and Memphis has
one city so dramatically altered the course of music history.
For many Americans, Seattle music equates only to grunge—a style of music
exemplified by Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, and Alice in Chains. Grunge,
in the eyes of the general population, was an early ’90s fad remembered as
fondly as that once hip but no longer fashionable pair of sneakers. Unfortunately,
America has been culturally ripped off by the mainstream media and major
labels, who painted a completely inaccurate picture of the music and portrayed
the grunge band as a dark, angst-ridden group of depressed heroin addicts. Kurt
Cobain’s 1994 suicide reinforced that notion. Grunge was serious.
If only they knew.
Seattle’s underground music has always displayed a tongue-in-cheek sense of
humor. Rarely did anyone take themselves seriously, even people that became
rock stars. The national media characterized the grunge musician as a dirty, long-
haired, angry young man, shouting enraged commentary about his miserable life.
“Wait a minute,” says Beezer, who played bass for the Thrown Ups, arguably the
quintessential grunge band. “These are like the funniest guys I know! Where’s
the rage come from? [Laughs.] [It was about] getting drunk and having a good
time. End of story!”
The outside world just didn’t get it, and Seattle wanted it that way. In 1992 a
New York Times reporter phoned Megan Jasper, then a sales rep at Sub Pop
Records. The caller inquired about the hip grunge slang. One problem remained,
however: there was no hip grunge slang. Jasper, by then completely tired of the
incessant media attention, decided to have some fun. She told the reporter to
name some common terms, and she would happily provide the corresponding
grunge expressions. As the reporter rattled off phrases like “uncool person” and
“hanging out,” Jasper responded with “lamestain” and “swingin’ on the flippity-
flop.” The exchange was published in the November 15, 1992, issue of the New
*
York Times under the title “Lexicon of Grunge: Breaking the Code.” Jasper and
Seattle enjoyed a good laugh.
Mudhoney, a Seattle grunge band then receiving international attention,
decided to take the joke a step further. After the “Lexicon of Grunge” showed up
in the Times, the band gave interviews with the made-up terms sprinkled
throughout. “When we heard about that,” says Mudhoney’s front man Mark
Arm, “[for] our next round of interviews we threw out as many of those terms as
often as possible.”
While Seattle’s humor often bordered on the macabre, it was typically not
executed in a mean-spirited way. For instance, local record label owner Tom
Dyer had a band called the Icons and desired publicity. He would send press
releases to the Rocket, then Seattle’s monthly music magazine, only to be
ignored. Then he came up with an idea: why not kill a fictional band member—
Walter E. Gogh—and put that in the next press release? “So we send this press
release to the Rocket,” says Dyer, “how . . . Walter has died in a car wreck in
southern Florida while visiting his mother. And the Rocket, they run it.”
The Icons have announced the death of founding member Walter E. Gogh.
Walter died from injuries sustained in an auto accident while visiting his mother
in southern Florida.
—Johnny Renton, The Rocket, April 1984
“And I’m going, ‘Yes! Hook, line, and sinker!’ ’Cause of course,” says Dyer,
“the next month was the follow-up, a letter to the editor from Walter.”
I picked up a copy of your fine magazine, The Rocket April issue, and to my
surprise found the Icons had announced my death in Southern Florida . . . . I