Scott Weiland

In 1996, MTV was running a short making-of documentary on Tiny Music... Songs from the Vatican Gift Shop, the upcoming third album by Stone Temple Pilots. The show gave more or less equal time to all four members, but the standout was the lead singer. With bright orange hair that almost didn't look dyed, a stylish goatee and sunken but alert eyes, he effortlessly drew the camera to him even when soon-to-be-standard hard rock riffs performed by his bandmates next to him. He danced like no one I had ever seen. He had an ongoing history of drug abuse (he's troubled!) and being dismissed by mainstream media critics (he's misunderstood!). And for a generation of kids reaching the age where they understood why adults liked Han Solo more than Luke Skywalker, Scott Weiland looked like the coolest man in the world.



Timing had something to do with it, and Weiland wouldn't be getting the respects he's getting this week if the media weren't being taken over by people who reached adolescence in the '90s. But timing was also Weiland's curse. STP's debut arrived right on the coattails of Nirvana and Pearl Jam, and critics were quick to bash them as copycats, even though they'd been playing grunge for years before Core in 1992. Yet they also arrived too soon, before anyone had any idea how bland and numerous the neo-grunge also-rans would get--it took countless Collective Souls and Seven Mary Threes for tastemakers to realize, whether or not they'd admit it, that maybe STP weren't so bad after all. Five years earlier or later, Stone Temple Pilots would have been hailed as rock saviors. Instead, they received the brunt of critics trying to prove how cool they were by pretending someone else wasn't.

A lot of the blame was thrown on Weiland, too handsome and ripped to portray the outsider he claimed to be. He sounded like a bully and a rapist in "Sex Type Thing", one of the most chilling portrayals of sexual assault in rock music. His baritone warble echoed Eddie Vedder's and Kurt Cobain's. Elitists turned up their noses for the same reasons they dismissed Led Zeppelin in the 70s--a bunch of cock-rock yahoos, ripping off better artists, with grudgingly infectious hooks. But the records kept selling, the hits stayed on the radio, and most amazingly, STP followed Weiland's lead into weirdness, getting trickier and lovelier with every step. The lush tones and arrangements of Tiny Music reflected the dream-pop of Weiland's lifelong hero, David Bowie, and the underrated No. 4 and Shangri-La Dee Da branched out into artsy cabaret and lounge-rock, amidst some of the band's heaviest songs. Weiland's solo 12 Bar Blues would be on Pitchfork best-of lists if it had Wayne Coyne's name and face on the cover. But of course, what he did best was rock, and did he ever do that--"Vasoline," "Wicked Garden," "Big Bang Baby", "Lady Picture Show," "Sour Girl", "Creep", "Big Empty", "Unglued", both versions of "Plush" and of course the perfect "Interstate Love Song" will dominate the airwaves for as long as there's radio and streaming. They deserve to.

Weiland was no genius. His lyrics were average, and his stint in Velvet Revolver underscored the differences between great rock stars and transcendent ones. But in that humanity lies much of his appeal. STP didn't need a superhuman, they needed a guy, and as far as rock frontmen go, Scott Weiland was one of the best.

Last weekend, I sang "Interstate Love Song" at karaoke, to a bar full of Gen Xers. It didn't surprise me that the song connected--anyone born between 1975 and 1985 knows all the words, and loves it enough to overlook the vocal limitations of whomever's delivering. But I remembered, as anyone who sings STP karaoke does, how much room Scott Weiland carved out with a few octaves. His vocals soar and roar in the melodies, but never get too far out of anyone's range. Scott Weiland looked great and sang better, but his real talent was making everyone who sang along feel, for at least three and a half minutes, that we too, could be Stone Temple Pilots.

Pearl Jam, "Drifting"

17 Days to Find a Home


Pearl Jam or otherwise, this is one of the loveliest songs I can think of. It's all Vedder, not on any of their studio albums (it debuted as a b-side on their annual fan club holiday 7") and barely ever played live, making it almost as much of a loner as its narrator. Yet I'd take it over the last 20 years of indie folk, plus everything on Vedder's solo albums, the underrated Into the Wild soundtrack and the perfectly rated Ukelele Songs.

I was pleased to see "Drifting" anthologized on PJ's excellent outtakes record, Lost Dogs, and thrilled to see the liner notes included personal, detailed accounts from individual band members about each of the songs. I flipped to ahead to "Drifting" and read the full description:

EDDIE: Sometimes I wonder why there isn't a Teepees-R-Us.

Dave Grohl Hosting Chelsea Lately

Dave Grohl has turned into alternative music's Snoop Dogg, seemingly able to publicly align himself with any sort of dorkiness and keep credibility intact. Chelsea Lately sounds like something that I'd rather claw my eyes out than watch, yet the former drummer from Scream looked great in his guest-host opening skit a few days ago. Could you imagine Billy Corgan, Trent Reznor or Eddie Vedder surviving this?



Yes, that's Dave Grohl unloading the riff to "Let There Be Rock" on E!. I hope he gets to host the Oscars next.

I Like to Move It Move It

One of my roommates is moving out this month.

I Like to Move It Move It

1. Metallica, "Wherever I May Roam"
2. Bad Brains, "Sailin' On"
3. Sleater-Kiney, "One More Hour"
4. David Bowie, "Move On"
5. Mississippi Fred McDowell, "You Got to Move"
6. The Allman Brothers Band, "Midnight Rider"
7. The Kinks, "I Gotta Move"
8. Johnny Cash & Merle Haggard, "I'm Leavin' Now"
9. Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds, "When I First Came to Town"
10. The Pogues, "The Wild Rover"
11. Guns N' Roses, "Move to the City"
12. Bob Dylan, "Walkin' Down the Line"
13. R. L. Burnside, "Walkin' Blues"
14. Bill Monroe, "Gotta Travel On"
15. Iggy Pop, "Home"
16. Willie Nelson, "On the Road Again"
17. Tom Petty, "Time to Move On"
18. Tom Waits, "On the Road"
19. Pearl Jam, "Drifting"
20. Joni Mitchell, "Urge for Going"
21. Lynyrd Skynyrd, "Free Bird"

 I Like to Move It Move It was culled from a group of songs that I like to give friends when they're in the process of finding a new home, something that 90% of all New Yorkers are doing at any given time. Rovers, wanderers, nomads, vagabonds, call them what you will--each of them get my favorite Bad Brains song, Cash & Haggard's final team-up and a few particularly solitary blues cuts.

As with most of the characters in these songs, the tunes themselves are mostly loners and outcasts. David Bowie and Nick Cave, both of whom know a thing or two about moving on, supply underrated songs from their most underrated albums. The Pogues' version of "The Wild Rover," Pearl Jam's (Vedder's, really) "Drifting" and Joni's "Urge for Going" are all lovely b-sides. The Bob Dylan and Tom Waits songs were both unearthed from rarities box sets. The Metallica song is their least-loved hit from The Black Album, yet it's my favorite.

Then again, there's "Free Bird" to account for. Hearing it again, I can remember how it earned its reputation as the closer to end all closers. Still, this is the first and last time that I'm ever putting it on a mix CD.