Alternative for the Masses, page 3
At the time, I know this sounds naïve, but we weren’t focused on being female in music. But when I look back now, I’m like, “There was a healthy percentage of women driving the scene at the time.” And that is something also that I think was unique to that era—and specifically to Boston and London at the time. There were pockets everywhere, obviously; but Boston was so female-rich. I feel that that was something that I sort of took for granted at the time. It was easily 50/50 at that time.
PAUL Q. KOLDERIE: When Fort Apache Studios started, we were just a local eight-track studio in Boston. It was starting at ground zero from nothing. All of us were musicians and people who played in bands and knew a lot of people in town. But the thing that made people like going there is that it was grungy. It was in an old warehouse that had been a commercial laundry. And it was like a city block—it was an enormous empty warehouse, with old industrial bathrooms and old beat-up wood floors. So, our studio was carved out of the second floor of that building. We didn’t have the whole floor, but a lot of times at night, we’d use it—we’d drag mics out there. A lot of screaming vocals on the Pixies’ Come on Pilgrim were recorded out there.
And word of mouth was so important. Back then, there was a very achievable thing you could do: You could go into a studio, book time, record songs, and make a quarter-inch reel-to-reel tape that you could take to college radio stations and a few commercial alternative stations that would potentially play that tape. Y’know, it was the local ghetto show on Sunday night, but if it was really successful, you would graduate over into actually being added to the rotation. And nobody was paying payola either—it was very meritocracy-based. It was never a question of having to bribe someone or slipping a hundred-dollar bill in with a tape. They listened to it, and if they liked it, they’d play it.
The first real commercial success we had was Treat Her Right—Mark Sandman’s band before Morphine. They scored a local hit that actually became a national hit [“I Think She Likes Me”], and they signed to RCA Records. All of a sudden, that really put us on the map. Because once people start to think there’s a lucky convenience store where they sell lottery tickets that come in, people are like, “How can I get in there?” And then after that, the Pixies. Gary [Smith] brought in the Pixies and produced Come on Pilgrim, and I engineered it. We all kind of teamed up on it. Man, that was a real Fort Apache early golden era. People were sleeping in the other room, and we were mixing around the clock. That record really blew a lot of doors open. And at one point, WFNX put out their “Top 50 Local Songs of the Year”; and we had like thirty-eight of them!
We went up the ladder from 8-track to 16-track to 24-track to two 24-track studios. And then eventually we had our own production deal with a label. We were pretty proactive about going after bands that we wanted to record, especially in the early days. Like, I went to the Rat [the Rathskeller club] with Gary, and we saw the Pixies. We went backstage and talked to them and said, “Let’s make a record.” That didn’t always work. But it did in that case.
After Come on Pilgrim came out—which I engineered—I went to Las Vegas, and I was hanging out with some people. And they said, “You’re an engineer? Well . . . what did you do?” And I said [Come on Pilgrim], and they were like, “Wow, really? You did that?” They knew about it instantly—it had only been out a few weeks. It spread like wildfire, the equivalent of going viral.
DAVID PAJO (Slint guitarist, Tortoise bassist): I remember when we were recording Tweez, [drummer] Britt [Walford] asked [Steve Albini], “Do you think Slint will ever be popular?” And Steve—really wisely—said, “I don’t think Slint will ever be popular . . . but they’ll be influential.” And then he said that we were “the sound of the ’90s.” Which, in 1987, it sounded like the far-off future. But he was so spot-on.
FERGAL LAWLER (Cranberries drummer): There wasn’t really many [alt-rock bands in Ireland]. It was more further afield where we looked—either to the UK or the US—for those kind of bands. In Ireland, there were lots of smaller bands that we used to go and see . . . which would have been a little bit alternative. There were a few bands in Limerick. One was They Do It with Mirrors, who were great, quirky, almost like the Cure at times. And then there were a couple of Dublin bands. There was one called the Pale, which had three guys in the band. And An Emotional Fish—they were a good band back then.
There were nighttime DJs that would be on the radio, and we’d tune in to them to find out who the new alternative acts were or what new singles were coming out. Stuff you’d never hear on daytime radio. There were “pirate radio stations.” They were basically a guy in his bedroom who had a broadcast thing and played whatever alternative stuff was around.
We were actually Cure-heads. We had the hair back-combed and everything like that. Actually, when I first met [guitarist] Noel [Hogan] and [bassist] Mike [Hogan], we were breakdancers! So, it would have been ’83 or ’84. After a few years, we got into more alternative stuff like the Cure, Joy Division, the Smiths, Depeche Mode, Stone Roses. It was always that kind of left-field kind of music. We went to see the Cure as one of our first concerts—they were playing in Dublin. It was amazing to see them live.
Pixies, at Pinkpop Festival, Landgraaf, Netherlands, May 15, 1989. Left to right: David Lovering, Frank Black, Joey Santiago, and Kim Deal. “That record [Come on Pilgrim] really blew a lot of doors open.”—Paul Q. Kolderie Gie Knaeps/Hulton Archive/Getty Images
MIKE EDWARDS (Jesus Jones singer/guitarist/keyboardist): There was a watershed point [in England]—in the late ’80s, we had this kind of Jesus and Mary Chain/introverted/noisy kind of thing. Which gave way to a rebirth or renewal of heavier rock sounds. A lot of bands were looking toward the Stooges, MC5, stuff like that. And an awful lot of Velvet Underground–influenced bands. Shortly after the likes of the Shamen and Pop Will Eat Itself, we started using more dance music in our music. There was a shift toward more groove-orientated sounds—even if bands didn’t really use the technology that we were using, they kind of changed the feel of the beats and groove.
JONN PENNEY (Ned’s Atomic Dustbin singer): One of the key things that occurred at the time was live guitar music made its massive comeback. There were a lot of guitar gigs going on in the UK. Which meant bands like ourselves were coming through with influences from the ’80s—like the Cure, Echo and the Bunnymen, the Teardrop Explodes, Killing Joke. An absolute plethora of fantastic punk-rock-ethic music that was trying to be of its own. The thing for us was there were a lot of gigs to go and play.
There would be a gig every other week you’d want to go to of a UK guitar band. There was Manchester—“Madchester”—going on. We felt a little bit of an antidote to Manchester when we came through—there was a lot of dancey, “baggy” stuff going on. We felt a bit less groovy and a bit more in your face. But I think from where I’m looking, the popularity of the guitar gigs grew and grew during those early ’90s years.
And there were a lot of great live bands that have gone under the radar since. But not bands that are similar in genre, necessarily. If you look at the three bands that came out of Stourbridge, we’re not a million miles from the way the Wonder Stuff sounded. But we’re a bit more punk rock, we had two bass guitars, and I’m certainly not the troubadour that Miles Hunt is. And then you’ve got Pop Will Eat Itself, who are like a British Beastie Boys. It’s not similar music, necessarily, but the ethic certainly was a common thread amongst all the music that was coming through at the time—amongst all the British bands that were touring. You had bands like Jesus Jones, the Senseless Things, Mega City Four.
FERGAL LAWLER: Our first band was called the Cranberry Saw Us. A friend of ours who played in another band called the Hitchers, Niall Quinn, wanted to do a side project. Myself, Noel, and Mike played together, rehearsing instrumental music. We were trying to find a singer, and he said, “I heard you guys are looking for a singer. I’m doing this side project.” So, we did that with him for about six months, but it wasn’t really what we wanted to do.
And then the girl he was going out with was in school with Dolores [O’Riordan]. And she said to Dolores, “I heard this band is looking for a singer, and they play original stuff.” Because she had been looking for bands and she had been to a few auditions, but most of them were doing cover versions and she wanted to do original material. It was through Niall that we met Dolores. She came up to rehearsal and spoke about the music she was into. And she was into the Smiths and Depeche Mode—similar stuff to us. We went in to record our demo in the studio—we could really hear her clearly and went, “She can really sing.”
LOU BARLOW: And from Australia, there were these incredible bands like the Eastern Dark and the Scientists. Fucking amazing, powerful garage rock bands.
CHRIS HASKETT: When I first started touring with Rollins, the other bands that would be out at that point would be the Swans, Sonic Youth, Scratch Acid, Jawbox, Bullet LaVolta, the Butthole Surfers, the Big Boys, and Tuxedomoon. There was this whole other world of people doing radically different things from each other. You think about how incredibly influential a band like Sonic Youth was.
FRED ARMISEN: Before Nevermind, I would say the real change in everything happening was Fugazi’s first EP [1988’s self-titled]. Mudhoney was kind of like, “Oh . . . what’s going on over there?” And then Fugazi was a real breaking point of, “Ah, now this is a solid movement. This is a real thing happening.” I don’t know how charts work or how they count all that stuff, but “Waiting Room” is what I consider to be a “hit song.” Fugazi was the breaking point of “things are happening.”
BOB MOULD: If I look at ’89/’90—Workbook and Black Sheets of Rain [Mould’s first two solo albums]—Workbook was definitely a statement of intent. “I am not just the guy from Hüsker Dü.” Black Sheets to me was sort of a reimagining of what [bassist] Tony Maimone and the late [drummer] Anton Fier brought to Workbook, and what all the touring from Workbook got us to this heavier, louder version. And that was Black Sheets.
FAT MIKE: Faith No More kind of did it before Nirvana. “Epic” was different—it was awesome. They weren’t hair metal, but they made it out of that scene, kinda. But they played all the punk warehouses in Oakland. I saw them with their first singer, Chuck [Mosley]; and there were fifteen people at a warehouse. And the piano chords at the end of “Epic” are so beautiful. And Mike Patton could really sing. That whole record, The Real Thing, was amazing.
BILL GOULD: There was still hair metal bands; there was still this tour called Monsters of Rock that had Whitesnake, Aerosmith—that was very popular. Metallica was in full swing. Guns N’ Roses were in ascendance. Our little scene that we were in, there was still a bit of a thrash thing—bands like Nuclear Assault. Soundgarden and us were playing. It would also be the era of RIP Magazine, and there was a music conference that was going on in New York around that time: CMJ [College Music Journal].
ROGER JOSEPH MANNING JR. (Jellyfish multi-instrumentalist/singer): I was front row and center, because the first Jellyfish album [Bellybutton] came out at the height of what was left over of hair metal and MTV pushing that. That was 1990. The Guns N’ Roses album [Appetite for Destruction] hit in 1988, so that’s what everything was. We took great pride of being so unique at the time. In fact, we were amazed that any record company—major labels in this case, with Virgin and Atlantic—were willing to take a shot on us, considering we had nothing to do with either the metal scene that was happening at the time or the pop/R&B sound that’s always on the radio, no matter what decade you’re in.
So, late ’80s/early ’90s is this bizarre period, because you literally have the twenty-somethings making their “rock rebellion statement,” but you’ve still got Bad Company, ZZ Top, AC/DC, and all these groups you’d associate with ’70s and ’80s classic rock, they’re still hitting it. And you’ve got the students of that going, “No. This is a new movement. We’re going to rebel against that.” That’s what always happens with art movements—you’re always commenting on the establishment. And whether those bands knew it or not, they were the establishment. Even Queen, Judas Priest, Led Zeppelin—there was a reverence for that stuff growing up, but it was also kind of like, “Hey, you old guys. Time to leave the room. We youngsters have something to say.”
LES CLAYPOOL (Primus singer/bassist): Alternative was the alternative to what was popular, and for us it was all those hairball bands. That’s what we were rebelling against. I think once these bands started gaining some traction, it was like anything that was different from all the hairball bands that were dominating the airwaves and MTV were starting to get juice—like us, the Chili Peppers, Nirvana, Soundgarden.
COREY GLOVER: There was a change in the atmosphere for a lot of bands that didn’t want to be these commercial hair bands.
DANA COLLEY (Morphine saxophonist): I’m trying to picture Morphine playing in the ’80s, and I’m not sure we had the hair or the lapels for it.
JENNIFER HERREMA (Royal Trux singer): People started taking themselves more seriously and were like, “We’re not dressing up. We’re not doing our hair. We’re serious about this guitar thing.”
KRISTIN HERSH (Throwing Muses singer/guitarist): In our subculture, we were pretty clear that there was a corporate attempt at top-down popular culture happening that was really goofy; so we ignored it . . . figured that anything real was gonna happen down here on the ground in bars and basements, bedrooms, and garages. It was cooler there because life was hard, and we were the soundtrack to that.
FRANK BLACK (Pixies singer/guitarist and solo artist): The compact disc had certainly taken over, and vinyl was completely dead at that moment. But artists were still involved in very traditional kinds of relationships with record companies. And when I say “traditional,” I mean in terms of the financial connections.
EVAN DANDO: It was ’89, and I was in Berlin. I had a girlfriend over there, and I was staying for Christmas. And the Wall was coming down—New Year’s Eve into 1990. And it’s like, “Alright . . . this looks like it could be quite a decade.”
2JANE’S ADDICTION AND LOLLAPALOOZA
“Dangerous and crazier”
Jane’s Addiction in Chicago, Illinois, November 1988. Left to right: Perry Farrell, Dave Navarro, Stephen Perkins, and Eric Avery. “Jane’s Addiction need to be credited as the most important.”—Matt Pinfield Paul Natkin/Getty Images
The importance of Jane’s Addiction’s 1990–1991 infiltration of the mainstream cannot be overstated. And the same can be said about the inaugural edition of the traveling North American festival Lollapalooza, which JA’s frontman, Perry Farrell, co-founded.
MATT PINFIELD: The great thing about bands like Jane’s Addiction was it had a dangerous side to it. Like, what Guns N’ Roses had opened the door for on that end of things, it started that whole wave of people being more dangerous and crazier. More confrontational.
JASON PETTIGREW: There was a big article in Rolling Stone [“Local Heroes,” October 22, 1987, issue]. And there was an article on Jane’s Addiction—which was cool, because it was hard rock with a weird, atmospheric, psychedelic thing to it. And the other one was Tommy Conwell and the Young Rumblers. I was reading it, and it was all that heartfelt, oh-so-earnest, Midwest rock . . . like, if a Hallmark card had 110-decibel amps. I thought, “This is more of the same. I can’t stand it.” And Perry Farrell was making all sorts of crazy proclamations. And I’m like, “He’s so out of his mind! I love it!”
Because you were so used to a status quo where it was either Springsteen or that horrible AOR. The fact that Perry Farrell was making all these brash comments . . . but he had the freak-itude to back it up. I mean, if you don’t get “Ocean Size,” I’m sorry—I’m walking away from the table. There was so much power there, yet it really sounded alien. Plus, they looked like opiates and funhouse mirrors—it was wild to look at and go see them do that wild percussion jam in the middle of their sets. There was something happening.
MOBY: In the world of punk rock but also alternative rock, there were always the bands that you liked . . . but you were a little suspicious of. Like, in the world of hardcore punk, it was bands like DRI, Corrosion of Conformity, or Suicidal Tendencies, where you were like, “I really like them. But they seem like ‘heavy metal guys.’” Like, “Uh oh. Are they part of my ‘nerd tribe’ . . . or are they actually the guys who know about sports?” And Jane’s Addiction was the first time the underground alternative rockers sounded like—and looked like—rock stars. I remember seeing them at the Cat Club in Manhattan, and I was like, “Huh? I don’t know what this is. Are they a rock band? Are they alternative?”
MATT PINFIELD: Jane’s Addiction need to be credited as the most important. I met resistance when I wanted to get behind Jane’s Addiction at the radio station—when I wanted to play the Nothing’s Shocking album. But I did anyway, and they allowed me to do it. But I was like, “This is an important band and an important record. It’s taking what’s artistic about all the alternative stuff that’s out now in the arts community and lacing it with Led Zeppelin and a lot of hard rock.” Because Stephen Perkins had that history of being in bands that were on the Strip and Dave Navarro played with that “heavy metal/hair metal rock fury” that was happening.
But at the same exact time, Perry Farrell and Eric Avery were part of this arts community that came out of Venice; and then there was this whole other thing happening that they were exposed to and introduced to in Los Angeles. So, it was a melting pot of those two scenes that made Jane’s Addiction what they were. And having someone as original and as absolutely confrontational and fearless as Perry Farrell as your frontman was life-changing for the music scene. And I will tell you this for a fact: I would hear from other people that some of the bands that were more on the “jangly” side of the bands disliked Jane’s Addiction very much because of the way they incorporated the hard rock and metal thing. But I saw it as something that was really important and “the future.”
