I think it was the summer of 1989, I was on my annual visit back to the UK from Bahrain and went to visit my friend Matt in Newcastle. We were likely getting a bit bored of Bay Area Thrash Metal and New York Hardcore at that point and Punk was in between periods of interest and relevance as far I as I could tell. But really, I knew nothing. I literally lived on a desert island many decades before Google and seeking out meaningful counter-culture was an arduous affair.
I was on a quest for something new and exciting to listen to that summer. When I read in Melody Maker or NME about this thing ‘grunge, ‘where Black Sabbath met Black Flag, ‘ I felt the need to roll the dice on a couple of albums. So, instead of buying a back up set of Santa Cruz Speedwheels, I purchased Nirvana’s “Bleach” and Mudhoney’s “Superfuzz Bigmuff.” After several listens all the way through, I determined Nirvana were OK and Mudhoney were fucking epic. Then we learned Mudhoney were playing Newcastle that very week and of course we asked Matt’s parents if we could go. It would have been my first gig and I was ready to get tanked up on Newcastle Brown Ale and loose my hearing. However, these two sheltered fourteen year olds weren’t allowed to go loose their punk rock virginity just yet. So it was back to Bahrain we went with a couple of new albums but another dry hot year to get through getting increasingly thirsty for radical youth culture happenings that were so far out of our reach.
Before long, CDs hit Bahrain and Rolling Stone Magazine might even have been available. However it happened, I somehow found out that this thing Grunge was now a big thing and there were many other bands to check out. I took note, trying to see what I might like based on album reviews I read, how the covers looked, song titles and so on. When you spend all your pocket money saving for disposable skateboards, you had to be very careful what you spent the rest of your money on (except the weekend six packs of course) so you couldn’t just but any old pap. Anyway, after very careful consideration I determined that this band Pearl Jam was worth looking into based on their connection to Mudhoney, Seattle and so on. So, I spent maybe nine Bahraini Dinars on Pearl Jam’s ‘Ten.’
After purchase, I raced home, peeled off the plastic and popped the disc eagerly into my little player and waited to have my brain beaten to a pulp in the same way “Touch Me I’m Sick” did a few months earlier. Instead, I immediately felt robbed. Like actually, fucking cheated. Violated. I navigated my way through song after song only to wish I’d been mugged instead of wasting my money on such crap. That was a quarter of a new skate deck. I could have bought a SNFU or Snuff album but no I really wasted it on this terrible crooning classic rock drivel. And that was it, Pear Jam killed most of the interest I had in Seattle or grunge or whatever the shit was going on, to the point where I may have even hesitated to purchase “Nevermind.”
A couple of summers back, I was catching a few morning grinds at a mostly empty Glenhaven Skatepark in Portland with an old hippy looking bloke and his step-son for company. It was baking hot and I wasn’t really in the mood for small talk, I just wanted to lock into a few smithgrinds before it hit triple digit heat. But the hippy and I got to talking about skateparks, and it was soon clear that this old geezer, named Steve was a real skate nerd. He grew on me the more he talked and the Grateful Dead vibes thankfully floated away. He told me about an upcoming trip he had and how he was going to check out some skateparks in Nevada and play music with his band. It sounded like a skate trip with a bit of music thrown in for fun. Cool. I still assumed he was in a Grateful Dead tribute band but it was only polite to ask, ‘Who’s your band?’
He hesitated and then sheepishly replied,
“Mudhoney.”
“Oh you’re Steve Fucking Turner?!” Ha ha, yeah. So I told Steve Turner from Mudhoney about how I found out about his band while I lived on a cultural and literal desert island and how important it was. I also told him how shit I found all his contemporaries’ bands, until I realized they probably were/are still his friends and I should not be so bloody rude. Yet, he really had to know Pearl Jam had cheated me so horribly in my mid-teens.
With this, he chuckled… a little… I think…
I hear Mudhoney singer/ guitarist Mark Arm still packs boxes at SubPop and likes to surf. I know Steve is a record collector/ seller and loves to skate. I love that they are middle-aged nerds still doing it, without close to half the success or acclaim of some of those ‘other bands.’ And that’s why I’m spending $35 to finally see them thirty years later. One of their newer songs could have been written by fourteen year old me,
“I wanna ride
I wanna grind
I wanna get up in this bowl and leave that mess behind
I wanna carve
I wanna glide
I wanna get in the ocean and clear my mind
I wanna go
I wanna go for miles
I wanna ride my bike until everything's alright
Ohhhhh-ho-ho yeah
Ohhhhh-ho-ho yeah
Ohhhhh-ho-ho yeah!”
I wanna grind
I wanna get up in this bowl and leave that mess behind
I wanna carve
I wanna glide
I wanna get in the ocean and clear my mind
I wanna go
I wanna go for miles
I wanna ride my bike until everything's alright
Ohhhhh-ho-ho yeah
Ohhhhh-ho-ho yeah
Ohhhhh-ho-ho yeah!”
I mean that as both an insult and a complement.
Anyway, I have no expectations. I have a little money now, and a few spare skate decks, so no worries if they are shit on Saturday (thank fuck its not a school night). I won’t feel robbed or violated either way but it would be nice if they are good in that skull-splitting way they hit me the first time though.
