This is the one we’ve all been waiting for; ‘Sonic Highways’ is about how place influences music, but it’s also about director and star Dave Grohl. “I wouldn’t be here without Seattle,” the head Foo Fighter says. “Seattle’s like my phantom limb.”
And speaking of Soundgarden, the cover photo of Chris Cornell on that first release, ‘Screaming Life,’ was taken by Seattle local Charles Peterson. Even if you don’t know that album you recognize Peterson’s work. His blurry, black and white photos of Seattle bands during the period are the image most of us have of that time and place. That’s by design: When Sub Pop saw Peterson’s work, they knew how iconic it would be.
Neither would a lot of great music made over the last 25 years. Not since the British Invasion had a regional scene exerted as much global influence as the Seattle scene of the late ’80s/early ’90s. As is true of a lot of regional scenes, it grew out of one tiny seed: isolation.
Seattle was so far off of the cultural map that touring bands rarely, if ever, made it to the Pacific Northwest. This led to a do it yourself movement quite similar to what ‘Sonic Highways’ covered in the Washington D.C. episode. If the bands won’t come to you, then you must become the band, and that’s what kids did. You know the names: Screaming Trees, Mudhoney, Soundgarden, Green River, Mother Love Bone, Nirvana. These were just local guys playing for each other.
Which isn’t to say that no music had ever broken out of Seattle. Jimi Hendrix was a Seattle boy, after all, as was Ray Charles. Heart, too. The real find of the episode, though, is a mid-’60s Seattle band named the Sonics that can only be described as proto-grunge. Check these guys out:
The DIY ethos didn’t just permeate the bands playing the clubs, either. We’re treated to a brief history of Sub Pop, the little fanzine that became one of (if not the) most important labels in independent music. These were the guys who first released Green River, after all — the band that spawned both Mudhoney and Pearl Jam. If that’s all they ever did then Sub Pop would have earned its place in history, but they also released the first albums by Soundgarden and Nirvana.
Peterson shares a great story about the one that got away. He attended Nirvana’s first Seattle gig, shot the opening act, and split without ever taking a single photograph of Nirvana because he didn’t like them and couldn’t imagine them going anywhere.
Nirvana. That’s really what this episode is all about, It can’t be about anything else. Nirvana is the vehicle that turned Grohl into a superstar. Foo Fighters guitarist Pat Smear was sort of a silent fourth member of the band, too. Even more importantly, this is where the two men lost their friend, Kurt Cobain. Bassist Duff McKagan, another Seattle boy, apologizes to an off-camera Grohl for not calling after Cobain’s death. “Thanks man,” we hear a very sincere Grohl reply.
Every ‘Sonic Highways’ episode results in a song recorded in a local studio, this time at the wildly eccentric Robert Lang Studio. Lang is a Seattle native who grew up just three blocks from the location of his studio, which he has literally been digging out of a hillside for the last 30 years. The joint started as a single garage, but Lang would trade bands studio time for shovel time, removing 400 truckloads of dirt from the side of the hill to build a labyrinth of underground stone and marble rooms.
Digging deep emotionally, recording underground. What else could the Foos name this week’s song but ‘Subterranean?’
According to legend, the south african poet little Willie Kgositile, arrived in New York n 1968, where he joined the Harlem based, black writer's workshop previously mentioned in "The origin of The Lasts Poets" segment, and after joining the workshop, which was called the "East Wind" and is located in Harlem, N.Y. the unofficial black capital of America. Little Willie, who had fled from the racist aparteid regime in south africa, had written a poem, and in the poem, he said: "That this was the last age of essays and poems, and that guns and rifles, would take there place, so therefore, we are the last poets of this age. " The poets who were in the workshop all concurred that they were the last poets, in the figurative sense of the words. Little Willie left shortly thereafter, and reportedly went to Zimbabwe, leaving the poets in their workshop, contemplating and working on how to articulate what it meant to be last. Not that was difficult at all, since as a people, historically, the black population in America had always been "last." But in whatever endeavour they were allowed to participate in, the two most well known professions being entertainment and sports, they excelled and became first and foremost in those or any other particular field that they were permitted to engage in. So from the time that the Africans were brought to the shores of America to the present, they have had to historically struggle for recognition. Competing against the dominant society, as well as each other, they had to "strive to stay alive".
The Last Poets, became word smiths and hammered the feelings of their people, and eventually all oppressed people in the world, into the shape and scope of the struggle between despair and hope. After many personnel changes, the longest performing and active members of the group, honed the art form into a vehicle of total expression, which is today called rap and hip-hop. But the price that they had to pay for introducing their art form (Spoagraphics) to the world, would cost them their lifetimes, and for some members their lives.
They were the first rap group to be acclaimed by the people and went on to sell a million records by word of mouth, although they were the last to be acknowledged by the recording industry, who sold their records on the down-low, without the benefit of advertising and promotion, and continue to do so, for thirty years on since the group was first formed.
In addition the Last Poets, were originally a collective, that granted itself the right to come and go as they pleased. The two members who opted to stay together for the longest period of time, managed to record six albums, publish one book, and briefly perform in one movie which starred Janet Jackson and Tupac Shakur, which was entitled: "Poetic Justice"
The Last Poets, though, never intended to get into show business, and considered their commercial popularity to be divine providence.
Thus, the two most active members, continued to evolve the art form, individually and collectively, for twenty-four years, until they became literally and figuratively the "Grandfather's of Rap." In the beginning,The Last Poets consisted of Gylain Kain, Abiodun Oyewole, David Nelson, Felipe Luciano, Omar Bin Hassen, Jalal Nuriddin & Sulieman El-Hadi. Due to conflicts in style and content, they performed in various combinations with each other, or not at all, until such time as a suitable cohesive lasting unit could knit together, in complementation as opposed to competition, and Jalal and Sulieman emerged as rhyme partners for almost a quarter of a century. Together they developed the science of making sense out of non-sense until Sulieman passed away on October 3, 1995.
Because rap and hip-hop is performed today in rhyme, that unit of the Last Poets, are considered to be the pioneers of today's rap, and the "hip in the hop."
Today, Jalal, the sole remaining member of that unit, has evolved the art form to the bard level, and after having recorded his first rap record with Jimi Hendrix in 1969, he continues to develop his own style of poetry, which he calls "Spoagraphics" as a separate development in his evolution, and doesn't mind being "Last but not least". In as much as his objective as an artist has always been to master his "axe" a piece of advice given to him by Max Roach, in the early days of his career.
He has recorded four solo albums, and one EP. His experiences as a member of the last poets, will be rhymed in future time, in his forthcoming book.
The Grandfather of Rap and Jimi Hendrix:
Under Jalal's Nom De Plume (Lightnin' Rod) he recorded his first solo rap record, with Jimi Hendrix in Jimi's studio, Electric Ladyland, located in mid-town Manhattan, in the heart of New York City, in the summer of '68.
Jimi first got hip to me through Alan Douglas, owner and President of his self-named independent record label, Douglas Records.
Four months earlier, my group, The Last Poets, had recorded our first album, the self-titled: The Last Poets, with Douglas acting in the capacity of "executive producer"; which meant that he provided the finance and the facilities, and we provided the artistry.
Douglas had been sounding out the album, by playing It for various people within the music industry, to gauge their reaction to it, and among them was Jimi Hendrix.
The first Last Poets album was rich in revolutionary thought content, with a tapestry of profound poetry, within enlightening mind metaphors, and backed by traditional African percussion, and it sounded like voices that had come from straight out of the drums.
Upon hearing this, Jimi became intrigued. Now suddenly, here was a record that set the record straight, and it hadn't even been released yet.
Douglas had been in close contact with Jimi, and had artistic and business interest, and by turning him on to the Last Poet, had managed to impress Jimi, as well as everybody else, and had set himself up in the alternative music market, with his independent label.
Jimi, like a lot of other black artists,within the blues and jazz genre, saw Douglas as the key to expand into other areas of music in collaboration with other black artists that were respected and admired by the public.
Douglas had acquired a reputation, for being affiliated with black artists which had been enhanced by his association with the Last Poets, and later on from his release of two Malcolm X albums , containing his speeches, which he had negotiated in a contract with the late Betty Shabazz, the widow of Malcolm X.
Over a period of decades, Douglas had accumulated a formidable catalog, on some of the premier jazz and blues musicians of their times, such as Billie Holiday, Duke Ellington, featuring Max Roach and Charlie Mingus in a trio, which was called "Money Jungle."
He also put out albums on Kenny Durham, Art Blakey, and Muddy Waters, plus Eric Dolphy, and later on after Jimi's death, he posthumously released two albums on Jimi.
Courtesy of our managers, "The East Wind Associates", he now had the Last Poets in his repertoire. The problem was though, was that he didn't know what to do about it, and so the album hadn't been released yet.
Nevertheless, he proceeded to assure me that the album would be released. Eight months later, in the following year during the spring of 1970 I called him up to ask about the album, and he told me that Jimi had heard the album, and it knocked him out, and that he wanted to meet me, and had proposed that we do a track together.
I had mixed feelings about it at first, because although I had heard of him, at that time I was not exactly a fan of his, in as much as I was busy developing my own art, and my personal interest was my involvement in black music, which was more into Bebop, Blues, Rhythm & Blues, Doo Wop and Afro-Cuban Jazz, with Gospel as my harmonic source point.
The Grandfather of Rap and Jimi Hendrix: part 2
But Jimi was rockin' it with a whole new old-roll/role, and he was like a new blues all by himself. So I was pleasantly surprised when I found out that he had become an instant fan, and yet at the same time, considering the economy of the Last Poet's music at the onset of our first album, I didn't think our music was turning him on, so I figured it must be the message.
Although I wasn't a fan of his music then, I knew that when I got a minute I'd have to check him out, and see what all the fuss was about, because I was a fan of his rebellious image at that time, that he was projecting, in breaking the then conventional modes of artistic expression, and he confirmed that he was a fan of my message, and dug the way I rapped. At that time, Jimi's music was more popular with the white youth, than the black youth in America as well as England, and Jimi wanted to expand his fan base within the black community.
A lot of this was due to the type of music he played, which struck me as rock based in the blues. But to the black community at that time, rock was associated with famous white rock groups, who had separated rock from roll, such as The Grateful Dead, Black Sabbath, Jim Morrison "The Doors, The Byrds, The Mamas and Papas, Frank Zappa, The Beach Boys and other artists of that genre.
The black community for their part, were into James Brown, The Jackson Five, The Funkadelics, The Spinners, Harold Melvin and The Bluenotes, The Vibrations, Marvin Gaye and Stevie Wonder and Sly "The Family Stone, Dick Gregory & Richard Pryor, The Temptations, The Four Tops, Aretha Franklin, and many, many more dynamic black artist of the day, including The Last Poets.
Plus heavy metal was becoming known as the hardness within the rock, like bebop became the hardness within jazz.
So Jimi was considered a black artist playing rock music, the way that rock musicians wished they could play. But the black community had witnessed rhythm and blues, give birth to rock n' roll, only to see rock jettison roll, and become just rock, which was played primarily by white musicians, and they weren't sure if Jimi was playing white music in a black way, or black music in a white way, or both, and at that time at the end of the sixties, and the beginning of the seventies, they weren't sure about his music.
Thus they were happy for his success, but ambivalent about his art at the time, and attributed his success to his popularity amongst the white youth, in particular the hippie generation of that era, who brought most of his albums.
I wondered if Jimi wanted me to help bridge that gap with my rap, so that the black community could dig the roots of his music. I knew that he was a revolutionary artist, who had revolutionized the way the electric guitar was played, and how, and would influence generations to come, long after he was gone.
But outside of his art and reputation, I had no idea where Jimi was coming from until I met him in person. At that time, the black revolution in America was in progress, and the black community in general, wanted to know where Jimi stood on the issue of the revolution.
But Jimi felt misunderstood, or not understood at all, and focused his attention on making his position known, in regards to the Vietnam war, which was raging at the time, and he did it primarily through his music, rather than his lyrics.
Since both black and white youths were against the war, it was a central theme, that everybody could identify with.
The Grandfather of Rap and Jimi Hendrix: part 3
Muhammad Ali, had already set a precedent for the black community, by refusing to be inducted into the army, and he was a hero in the black community, as well as being admired by many whites for his stand against the war.
Jimi accomplished this with his rendition of the "Star Spangled Banner". I now knew that Jimi liked the Last Poet's recitations, and my poetry in particular, which meant that he was more hip to my work, than I was to his, at the time.
I figured that he identified, with the reality of our situation on a ground level, and I at least knew for certain that he was a rebel, and against injustice of any kind. Douglas arranged for me to meet Jimi, along with Buddy Miles, at his penthouse suite, on West 54th Street, in mid-town Manhattan, at the end of July of 1969, and I showed up expecting Jimi to be an out-going personality, only to find him shy and introverted, humble and quiet, except when he was playing.
Jimi smiled like he was glad to meet me, more so than I was him, he looked earnest and sincere, and gave me maximum respect. I returned the compliment, but he didn't want any, and said he was too interested in what I was doing with words, and he wanted to put some music to words with me.
I became impressed with his straight forwardness Douglas then introduced me to Buddy Miles, who also gave me a big smile, and then slapped me five, saying: "Yeah man, that stuff y'all ran down is right on! And Jimi and I, dig the shit out of it, so Jimi wants to work with you, you heard him for yourself, and Jimi can play anything on his axe, that brother is bad!" I looked over at Jimi, who was grinning and nodding his head up and down in agreement, just then Douglas, who had been standing by and listening, put both of his arms around Buddy's shoulders, who was sitting down at the time, and said: "Buddy's my funk machine."Buddy smiled and said: "How funky do you want it!" And began moving his hands, which had been clutching his drum sticks, and started tapping out an imaginary beat in the air.
Douglas laughed, but I didn't like the sound of it. I realized that Jimi and Buddy were part of the living music, that was their way of life, and it encompassed their lives. They lived and breathed it, and it was a testimony of their soulfulness, which ran the gauntlet of emotions.
Up to that point, I had been silent, just takin' it all in. Finally I said: "Sounds like y'all got it all figured out.They all laughed, and Douglas said: "I can get the studio time, any time you guys are ready, we can use the "Electric Lady land "(Jimi's Studio) Jimi chimed in saying: "And I don't want no money for this, I just want to have fun and jam, so if their is any money to be made off the track, you and Douglas can work it out."Douglas said: "We'll split it man, Jimi will keep the music, and you keep the publishing on the lyrics, I just want to see
it happen.
The Grandfather of Rap and Jimi Hendrix: part 4
"(excerpted from the Grandfather's forthcoming book: Lightnin' Rod and Jimi Hendrix : The title of the track was " Doriella Du Fontaine" 1968 was the year in which Jimi Hendrix attempted to push his music into as many simultaneous directions as possible, much to the chagrin of his managment, who wanted him to stick with the winning Experience formula. An irrepressible improviser, Hendrix not only jammed with his blues-rock peers (Johnny Winter, Clapton, Bloomfield, Winwood, etc.) but also made inroads into jazz, swapping notes with John Mclaughlin and Larry Coryell, and discussing recording projects with Miles Davis, Roland Kirk and Gil Evans.
That year too, he made an album with Arthur Lee's band "Love" and hooked up with another black music original, Jalal of the Last Poets to record with a track called "Doriella Du Fontaine".
The band assembled for this one-off collected together music under the name of Lightnin' Rod, was the prototype for Hendrix's Band of Gypsies, launched the following year.
Bassist Billy Cox was a pal from Hendrix's army days, and drummer Buddy Miles, had played with the guitarist when both were side men for Wilson Pickett.
On organ at this session was Larry Young, subsequently a member of Tony Williams trailblazing band "Lifetime" a unit in which John McLaughlin would incorporate adaptations of Hendrix's innovations.
And indeed, it would not be far-fetched to claim that a cross-cultural synthesis is already at play on this 1968 recording.
For all of it's obvious "jam session" informality and rough edges, "Doriella Du Fontaine" sounds extraordinarily fresh.
This Just In From Seattle Music History!!! IN SEPTEMBER 1964, AGED 21, Jimi Hendrix (left pictured as an infant) joined Little Richard’s touring band The Upsetters, and further developed the unique guitar style that would shortly electrify the world.
But this was not the first time that Hendrix had met the Georgia-born rock’n’roll star. According to Jimi’s younger brother, Leon, the budding guitarist initially encountered Richard in their home town of Seattle at the age of 12.
Jimi Hendrix with his brother Leon (left). A tumultuous childhood haunted them both.
“Me and Jimi met Little Richard in 1959 because his mom and sister lived in Seattle,” recalls the surviving Hendrix brother, speaking to MOJO. “I took a bunch of greens over to a neighbour’s house, Mrs Penniman, saw this black limo and Little Richard. I ran home to get Jimi, we rode bikes up there and sat there in awe at him preaching at the Goodwill Baptist Church.”
Speaking in the same interview, published in the latest MOJO magazine, Leon recalls the tumultuous home life that haunted the brothers as they grew up and explains how Jimi – whom he called Buster – used music to escape what was an increasingly fractured domestic situation. “When he got that ukulele with one string on it, everything took off. He got free,” says Leon.
For Jimi Hendrix, his graduation from ukulele to the six-string was to be the making of him. He left Seattle in 1961, initially enlisting in the US Army before becoming a sought-after guitarist. “He was the best guitar player so everyone wanted to hire him,” reflects Leon.
By the time he’d joined Little Richard’s band, Hendrix had already played with Wilson Pickett, The Isley Brothers, Chuck Jackson and Sam Cooke. While he knew his role as a sideman, his flamboyance was evident and appears to have caused clashes with Richard.
Nevertheless, he stayed long enough to record one single with Richard – the smouldering, begging-and-pleading I Don’t Know What You’ve Got (But It’s Got Me)in early 1965, released on Vee-Jay – and he also made his first TV appearance while a member of Richard’s band, backing soul duo Buddy And Stacy as they covered Junior Walker And The All Stars’ Shotgun on Night Train, filmed in Nashville in the summer of ’65.
The clip shows Hendrix resplendent in his dinner suit and bow tie, digging to the horn-powered groove. Less than 18 months later, Jimi landed in London and his meteoric rise had begun…
In September 1991, DGC Records released Nirvana's Nevermind, one of the most influential and revered albums of the past two decades. But much of what the general public thinks they know about the record is wrong — or at least slightly skewed. Here's the real scoop, from Kurt Cobain biographer Charles R. Cross.
MYTH NO. 1: NEVERMIND WAS KURT COBAIN'S FIRST CHOICE FOR AN ALBUM TITLE.
Kurt Cobain was a notorious planner, and his journals are filled with track listings for albums he never made. His first idea for a title for Nevermind was Sheep. He went so far as drawing an ad in his journal with typically cryptic, Cobain-esque copy: "Sheep: Because you want to not, because everyone else is," it read, with the tagline of "Abort Christ." Krist Novoselic offered up his explanation for the title: "We were thinking about calling it Sheep because we were so cynical." But that plan was abandoned by late 1990.
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MYTH No. 2: NEVERMIND WAS RECORDED IN 1991.
Nirvana essentially made Nevermind twice. The session that began in April 1991 with producer Butch Vig at Sound City studios in Van Nuys, CA, was remarkably similar to a session the band had in April 1990 with Vig at Smart Studios in Madison, WI. They recorded eight songs with the producer in 1990 in Madison, and five of those ended up on Nevermind, though most were new recordings and takes. The major difference between the Madison sessions and the recordings made in Van Nuys was Dave Grohl. So while most of the album was recorded in '91, the genesis of Nevermind began a year earlier. (Bonus trivia: On several songs, Grohl played Vig's Yamaha snare - the same one used on the Smashing Pumpkin's Gish.)
MYTH No. 3: DAVE GROHL IS THE ONLY DRUMMER ON THE ALBUM.
Vig was a drummer himself, and the crisp drum sound he captured from Grohl for the album - think the start of "Smells Like Teen Spirit" or the chorus in "Drain You" — was a key ingredient to the record's sound. Vig used a "tunnel" to record all of Grohl's work at Sound City, except for "Something in the Way," where he struggled to make him play quietly. But Grohl isn't the only drummer on the album: Nirvana's Bleach-era drummer Chad Channing is featured on "Polly." This was the one track that emerged from the original Smart sessions unscathed. Channing isn't credited on the original release ofNevermind — and he didn't earn royalties from it, either.
MYTH No. 4: "SMELLS LIKE TEEN SPIRIT" WAS WRITTEN ABOUT A DEODORANT.
Everyone knows that Cobain wrote "Smells Like Teen Spirit" about a deodorant. Well, sort of. Kurt's friend, Bikini Kill frontwoman Kathleen Hanna, did indeed write, "Kurt smells like Teen Spirit" on Kurt's bedroom wall as a kind of taunt, and that was where the song title came from. But it wasn't until after the album was released that Kurt discovered there was such a thing as a Teen Spirit deodorant. Kurt wrote the song about a line of graffiti, not an antiperspirant. (Bonus trivia: Sales of Teen Spirit deodorant skyrocketed after the record came out.)
Think you know everything about the band's 1991 classic? Think again.
MYTH No. 5: NIRVANA ORIGINALLY MADE A CASSETTE DEMO OF "SMELLS LIKE TEEN SPIRIT" TO PROVE THEY HAD A HIT.
Nirvana first recorded "Teen Spirit" onto a boombox at a rehearsal, which is included on the forthcoming Nevermind box set. But even though the band liked the riff, no one in the group knew it would be an immediate hit. Butch Vig said he knew it was one the moment he heard it in early '91, when Cobain sent him a copy of their new material. But the real reason Nirvana started recording their demos on a boombox, according to Grohl, was because they kept forgetting how to play several songs they'd written. "So many songs got thrown away, until we finally said, 'Maybe we should start recording them on a cassette,'" he said. (Bonus trivia: The tape began with Kurt saying, "Hey Butch. We've got a new drummer, his name is Dave Grohl, and he's the best drummer in the world.").
MYTH No. 6: COBAIN WROTE NEVERMIND ABOUT DRUGS.
Drug references do spring up in several songs, but Kurt's muse was complicated, and his full-scale drug addiction didn't start until after the album was recorded. BeforeNevermind, he had experimented with heroin, but he wasn't a full-blown addict. Most of the record was written about his friends, neighbors, or girlfriends. His initial plan was to break the album up into a "boy" side and a "girl" side. The "girl" side would consist of songs like "Teen Spirit," "Drain You," and "Lounge Act," most inspired by Cobain's unrequited crushes of that time. The "boy" side would contain a variety of songs, including "In Bloom," which was written for his best friend Dylan Carlson. (Bonus trivia: "Breed" is a rewrite of a song off the Smart sessions titled "Immodium," which was inspired by the intestinal problems of Tad Doyle of Tad.)
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MYTH No. 7: THE COVER OF THE ALBUM WAS COBAIN'S IDEA.
Kurt did come up with the cover idea for Nevermind, but his initial idea bore little resemblance to the final image of a baby floating naked in a pool. He had seen a late night television show on underwater birthing, and wanted a photograph of a baby's head right as it began to exit the vagina — he went as far as to sketch out the image in his journal. Yet when Kurt tried to license the gory and bloody photograph, he was rebuffed. The naked baby photo was the back-up plan. Spencer Elden, the baby pictured on the cover, has since joked that he's the world's "biggest porn star" because so many people have seen his penis.
MYTH No 8: NEVERMIND IMMEDIATELY MADE COBAIN A RICH MAN. There is a common misconception that Cobain became an overnight millionaire with the album's success. But the album didn't score Gold Record status until a month after its release, and the bulk of the sales arrived in 1992 or later. Most record companies only pay royalties twice a year, and payments lag sales by several months. As a result, Cobain earned almost no money from Nevermind in '91. His income that year totaled $29,541, and almost all of that was from a fall tour. When Cobain returned home to Olympia, WA, after recording the record in the spring, he found his belongings sitting in boxes by the curb: He had been evicted. He spent that first night sleeping in his car, while his record label completed the finishing touches on an album that would sell over 25 million copies. ---------------------------->>> O.K. Now just to add and to touch on what was well covered by #Spin #Magazine #writer #CharlesCross's #Incite-full #Article "True or False? 8 Myths About Nirvana's Nevermind" Album I took it upon Me, Myself, & Eye to bring #Attention to the last #Track on #Nirvanas #NEVERMIND #Album In the field of recorded music, a hidden track (sometimes called a secret track or ghost track) is a piece of music that has been placed on a CD, audio cassette, vinyl record or other recorded medium in such a way as to avoid detection by the casual listener. In some cases, the piece of music may simply have been left off the track listing, while in other cases more elaborate methods are used. In some rare cases a "hidden track" is actually the result of an error that occurred during the mastering stage of the record's production! This is a little info on the creation and choice of placement of this particular track that I am talking about! What Ever You Do*Do Though Do not Tell Anyone That There Is Indeed A Secret Track that thee alleged last track number 12 on nevermind turns into after 10 plus minutes of silence! If you do not know what I am talking about then there is most definitely something in the (your) way!
And speaking of Soundgarden, the cover photo of Chris Cornell on that first release, ‘Screaming Life,’ was taken by Seattle local Charles Peterson. Even if you don’t know that album you recognize Peterson’s work. His blurry, black and white photos of Seattle bands during the period are the image most of us have of that time and place. That’s by design: When Sub Pop saw Peterson’s work, they knew how iconic it would be.
Neither would a lot of great music made over the last 25 years. Not since the British Invasion had a regional scene exerted as much global influence as the Seattle scene of the late ’80s/early ’90s. As is true of a lot of regional scenes, it grew out of one tiny seed: isolation.
But 
