There was a point in the early 90s when it seemed that bands were more famous for their t-shirts than for their music. Ned's Atomic Dustbin, Inspiral Carpets, Carter USM et al seemed to be everywhere, not in music form, but emblazoned on chests everywhere. This sort of t-shirt culture seems to have more or less disappeared now (except in heavy metal circles) but back then, you *had* to wear a band's tshirt in order to proclaim your musical tastes to the world. At the moment the only reason to wear a band's tshirt is ironically, or because the image on the front looks cool. Witness the fact that you can buy Motorhead t-shirts in Topshop, and Misfits t-shirts are worn by people who would run away from Glenn Danzig if they saw him in the street.
Today skinny indie kids are wearing Sonic Youth t-shirts with the front cover of the 'Goo' album on it not because they know who SY are, but because it's a nice shirt. Is this an old man rant? Not really. For a good portion of my heavy metal days I was wearing the classic 'German Army Shirt' bought from army surplus stores across the land - did I have to have been conscripted into the German Army to earn the right to wear said garment? I just find it amusing is all...
Sonic Youth always struck a fine balance between great music and art-wank. Years after I bought Goo, some arty friends of mine went to see Sonic Youth on the South Bank playing with some avant-garde composer and were raving about it. I'm glad I didn't go because I would have been the guy at the back yelling for 'Kool Thing'
I always struggle with Sonic Youth - they were one of those bands that other bands name-check as being a big inspiration, but I always found their albums to be difficult, mixing some really good songs with much more experimental ones which made it difficult to sit through an entire record. Still their best tunes were perfect mix-tape fodder, and between this, 100% and Teenage Riot, they should be on anyone's top 10 of 90s alternative bands.
An example of their wilful eclecticism - I saw Sonic Youth play live in 1993 at the long defunct Phoenix Festival where they played headlined a stage and promptly proceeded to play an entire set of b-sides, obscure cuts and early songs. There was a torrent of people fleeing the tent as Sonic Youth proceeded to bludgeon them with a wall of feedback. At the time I was one of the ones fleeing with ears ringing. Now I would probably be standing at the back applauding...
When you listen to a lot of music, at some point, it dawns upon you that it might be possible to be in a band yourself, get lots of girls, be on the cover of the NME and die of a drugs overdose in a hooker's bathroom (okay, maybe not that last one) I'd been in one band - a really really bad heavy metal band called The Holocaust Pigs. We had one guitar and two vocalists. The guitarist was 12 and had only been playing his instrument (or 'axe' as no one ever calls it) for all of two weeks, we had songs called 'Necrophilliac Hamster' and the moving tribute to sufferers of leprosy 'Decaying Denzil (He's Falling To Pieces) Truly, we were awful. Skip forwards several years to me being 17 and trying again, after hearing lots of alternative bands and thinking 'yeah, these guys know all of two chords. I know almost one chord, how hard can it be.
At about the same time, I met a music teacher who was more than a little eccentric and thought that I should be in a band too, and he gave me the use of the school music room after school to practise, so I roped in the other members of The Pigs (as no-one ever called us) and thus Dog Soup was born. We had all of three songs, one was about being chained to a fridge as I recall, and we lasted for three whole weeks before the rest of the teachers in the school, in their teachers lounge, right at the other end of the school, kicked us out for making too much noise! How rock and roll! This set-back, however, curtailed my musical experiments for a good few years, as I couldn't afford a bass guitar and we had no room to put a drum kit anywhere.
The band that inspired me to these early experiments was Mudhoney. They sounded like they could just about play their instruments, and to disguise their lack of musical ability, they layered distortion over everything which made a nasty garage rock stew that sounded ace to these ears (and more importantly it sounded like I could just about stretch my fledgling musical abilities to match these sounds). They also seemed to be having much more fun than most of the bands that were their contemporaries. They could be a bit hit and miss on vinyl - their albums always seemed to contain way more filler than killer (as some people did say, but these people might have been Sum 41, so we won't go there).
Grunge bands, and indeed the whole Gen-X thing, was often regarded as being primarily distinguished by one character trait, its ability to moan, whine and mope.
There is certainly some truth in this, as anyone who has read Douglas Copeland's Generation X will know - a book which did as much as Nevermind to form the identity of the grunge generation (and I'm using that term both loosely and mockingly. I don't think anyone who was into American Indie music in the early to mid 90's ever referred to themselves as 'Grungers', 'slacker' or anything even vaguely similar, that was for people like Richard and Judy, who once did a hilarious 'How to dress like a Grunger' segment on This Morning, which was more Partridge than Partridge...)
Being a teenager at the time, I'm pretty sure I did my fair share of whining too, but the person who gets the gold medal for it is probably Billy Corgan from the Smashing Pumpkins. His lyrics, interviews and voice all seem dripping with misery and self pity, and later on in his career, Smashing Pumpkins turned into a sort of overblown Goth band, soaked in pretention. Still, people tended to like him, and there were some rather good videos...
Smashing Pumpkins first album though, was rather good (although they should have let D'arcy sing on more of the tracks)
Ahh, Grunge. Checked shirts (I refuse to say plaid...), dock martens,
torn jeans, loud and miserable music. This was MY musical movement. I
had just missed out on The Summer of Love - and I always found The Stone
Roses to be massively over-rated (hence the fact that they won't be
appearing on this list at all) - and Britpop was 5 years away (and
mostly rubbish too - copy and paste my feelings for The Stone Roses and
apply them to Oasis...) but what I did have was loads of scruffy
American bands with effects pedals playing vaguely down-beat music. And
I loved it.
Soundgarden were one of those bands who sat comforatbly on the line between metal and grunge (In fact it's pretty difficult to define exactly what grunge was, apart from vaguely poppy, vaguely noisy, vaguely American. Yeah, we were all about the vague. Our hair wasn't too long, but it want too short either. We just didn't care...) and in another life had been a pretty awful Led Zepplin sound-alike band (as I found out when I bought Louder Than Love after getting into them, listening to it once and then putting it in the record box along with all my old metal vinyl and never touching it again...)
Because they had that cross-over thing going on, Soundgarden were acceptable to play in our 6th Form Common Room stereo (well, the one in the un-cool part, well away from the kids who got bought cars for their 17th birthday, went skiing and had good skin...) so I seem to remember listening to them quite a lot. It was about this time that I had my first act of rebellion, as I was threatened with being kicked out of school if I didn't get my hair cut, having grown it over the last few years as part of my metal phase. There were a few days of stand-off as I refused, even getting my Dad to come into school and stick up for me (Yeah, that's how rebellious I was...) and facing off against the odious little man who was head of the 6th form (who was also bald, and I suspect slightly jelous of my magnificent lion-like mane)
In the end, sadly, I caved to the pressure and got my hair cut into the signature mushroom cut which was everywhere circa 1993 and the teacher confimed his staus as a petty jobsworth so the moral victory was mine. But for a brief second, I knew how Jesus felt, which is what this song is about*
My relationship with a band in 7 steps (and how to torture a metaphor until it begs for death)
Step 1. First meetings. I got hold of a copy of Nirvana's first album the same week that I bought Metallica's Black Album (the Spinal Tap one...) Compared to Metallica's latest offering, it sounded fresh not moribund, lean and hungry rather than bloated, funny rather than po-faced. Our eyes locked across the floor of Jumbo Records and I was smitten
Step 2. Obsession. I started 'accidentally' bumping into Nirvana everywhere. I opened a copy of NME (My first one had them on the front cover, along with the baffling headline 'Are Nirvana the Guns and Roses it's okay to like') in the 6th form common room and there they were. They were like the cool weird girl who sits by herself in the corner of the party. I was buying bootlegs, rare Tour only cassettes, limited edition 7 inches with awful b-sides, I was starting to have a problem. Nothing creepy mind, not like that thing with Winona Ryder that I started in 1995...
Step 3. Going steady. Suddenly we were an item, we even dressed alike. I got a stock of tartan shirts, ripped jeans, cardigans and Converse All-Stars. Things were going well, Nevermind came out and suddenly everything was cool. Everyone else started to notice Nirvana and I could say with a smug smile 'yeah, well I've been into them for ages'. "Oh you're so cool', no-one said, but I didn't care...
Step 4. The cracks start to show. Nirvana was hanging around with it's cool new friends and didn't have any more time for me. It was also spending a lot of time with that Crazy Lady Courtney Love. We didn't see each other so much any more, and when we did the magic had gone a little bit. I went to see Nirvana play live in 1993 and it was like they didn't care. The sound was awful, they played 'Smells Like Teen Spirit' half way through the set with an apologetic shrug and it seemed like they just didn't care about me any more.
Step 5. Trying to re-kindle things. A belated attempt was made to patch things up with In Utero, but it was plain that things would never be the same again. It wasn't a shadow of how things were before. We tried, but it was becoming apparent that it was over between us.
Step 6. Breaking up. I was hung over on the floor of my friends house when he told me Kurt Cobain had killed himself (I was also in a similar state, by complete coincidence when he told me Princess Di was dead. I had to stop hanging around with him shortly afterwards for the sake of famous people everywhere) and it seemed strangely like the only way the relationship could have ended. With the benefit of years and hind-sight, it wasn't a tragic death of a tortured artist, but rather a sad end to somebody who had mental health problems, a drug addiction and no-one to turn to. I remember being in a club shortly afterwards and the DJ played 'Smells like Teen Spirit' and the dance floor turned into a strangely passive-aggressive mosh pit with everyone slowly slamming into each other. It seemed an odd but poignant articulation of everyones unspoken grief.
Step 7. Moving on. Like that first girlfriend who is so cool that breaking up feels like the end of the world, but afterwards you realise that she opened your eyes to lots of new things, after Nirvana things were never the same. Indie bands were on Top Of The Pops, there were huge amounts of amazing bands getting press coverage, and more importantly being signed to labels, getting albums released and touring the UK. Plus there were at least two amazing albums to listen to and enjoy.
And now I'm bored and old. Nirvana are the band, more than any other, that remind me of my age. I think it's the fact that, unlike bands from that era who are still going, kids in Nirvana t-shirts I see today were not even born when Nevermind came out, and will never see them play on the reunion circuit. And I can say 'yeah, well I was into them first' and they will say 'so what Grandad' and I'll smile a wry smile like I was remembering that first crazy girlfriend*, after whom everyone else I met would be measured...
* Any resemblence to any ex-girlfriends, living or dead, is purely co-incidental
"You should never meet your heroes" or so the saying goes. By now I was going to lots of gigs and was over-joyed to learn that Primus were playing in Bradford. The venue was downstairs at the Queen's Hall (I'm not even sure that it's still open) which had all the charm of the bar from Star Wars, and was a perfect enviornment to see various scuzzy metal bands.
My friends and I were hanging out at the bar, trying to look cool and nursing our pints of cider when we spotted the guitarist from Primus looking puzzled at an arcade machine. My freinds and I looked at each other, not quite believing that one of our idols was standing right next to us. We were a little bit awe-struck. Until we realised he was kinda stoned and couldn't figure out how to work the machine and was just standing there slightly hypnotised by the flashing lights. And then we realised that our idol had feet of clay...
Primus were often lumped in with funk metal, mainly because they had a very bass driven sound, but in reality were a lot more weird than that. Their songs often featured strange characters inhabiting weird worlds. They had a lot more in common with Tom Waits than Red Hot Chili Peppers (and Tom Waits would guest on their 'big' hit single Tommy The Cat')
They also seem to be a love-or-hate-them band, probably due in part to Les Claypool's idiosyncratic voice and strange lyrical subject matter. Also, they sounded a world away from bands like Iron Maiden, Slayer and Metallica. Maybe I was getting kind of bored with metal, but what would take it's place?
There's a moment in 'The Mighty Boosh' when Vince says "Jazz-Funk? That's Funk's retarded cousin," The same thing could easily be said about Funk-Metal. There was a whole movement toward crossover (witness Anthrax teaming up with Public Enemy to produce a tune which was less than the sum of its parts) as if metal was slightly ashamed of itself and seeking to gain legitimacy but melding with other, more respectable genres (Linkin Park, Limp Bizkit et al would do something very similar ten years later with similarly dreadful results)
The prime movers of this genre were the Red Hot Chili Peppers, who, unlike most of those who came after (I'm looking at you Urban Dance Squad, Freaky Funkin' Wierdos and many more) were actually really cool.
My copy of Mother's Milk - the album that first broke them - was ill-gotten. It was stolen from a party at the house of someone we didn't like. There are dim memories of being drunk on cheap cider, petty vandalism, booze being stolen, the whole thing. And when I got home I had this tape in my pocket. I could never listen to Higher Ground without feeling vaguely guilty. I could take this opportunity to confess, but rather sadly, I can't remember the name of the kid who's party it was, so my deed will have to go unpunished, apart from my whole self loathing thing.
The first 4 Chilis albums were a lot different to the ones that came after their big hit 'Blood Sugar Sex Magik' and are a lot more funky, often sounding like a different band. I was much more of a fan of this early stuff, which was my first real taste of musical snobbery - when everyone else was raving about 'Under The Bridge' and 'Give It Away' I was acting like a proto-hipster, quietly remarking that I'd been into them for years and their early stuff was way better. Sometimes I can be such a jerk...
