
.jpg)
The only problem with my dream was that I was African American so musically I was in an awkward position with the trending image of a rock star. I had no social outlet other that the Satan worshipers that lived in my building, a kooky '80s metal guitar wailing sensation "Johnnie," and my next door neighbor Frank, a shamanistic Pike Market worker who also went by "Raven". Downtown Seattle was truly colorful if you were fortunate enough to work and live downtown. The nightlife was a memorizing mix of many cultures expressing their essence. Not just Grunge, there were piano bars, vegan restaurants, belly dancers, comic shops, and record stores on every block.
So in my studio I would play "bass lines" on classical guitar, mostly to hard rock like Anthrax, or whatever. I got pretty good considering I did not have a strap for myself. I was saving up for a Real bass, working as a dishwasher at "Sullivans" restaurant. I knew it would take a while.

I did not care -- I was alone and free to do whatever, and I did.
I would walk to the Vogue and look through the window at the bands playing. There was also a TV monitor on the outside window so you could see the bands more clearly walking by the bar. I thought at the time what a great marketing gimmick that was. Being under the drinking age, I could do nothing but watch and wonder. Grunge started out a bit weird, there was a literal clash of imagery on stage. Heavy makeup, power ballads, punk-rock, with dark music overtones. It captured the essence of our city that I mentioned earlier: colorful, and confused. I believe the rampant, and easy access to LSD on the street was having some effect on that for sure.
Johnnie from my building would often be outside the Vogue watching too. And he was over 21. Approaching him after spotting him a few times, I said, "You look like you're 21. Why don't you go in and have a good time?" His response was, "Not my scene, man. I just come down to watch the train wreck." We both burst into laughter and walked home together.

Well, a month rolls by, and I find out Soundgarden is playing with "X" at the Moore Theater. I had seen Soundgarden's video on Bombshelter Vids for "Hunted Down." I thought they looked pretty cool, and wanted to record their show with X. Seldom I found it fortunate that the rock concerts at the Moore were so loud, all I had to do was open my window and place my stereo on the ledge and press record. I got some good recordings like that. Anyhow, I think I see the drummer from Soundgarden loading in. I could tell he had to be with no roadie in a blue van, unpacking his drums alone. The last thing he takes in as I'm watching him is an open box, with shirts. He knows I'm watching him from my fire-escape and says "You want one?" And my reply is, "Sure, I'll take a large." He smiles and tosses me a shirt. Well, just what I need. A nice gesture after the last month of getting over a hell moment.
.jpg)
Anyhow, I thought I would get my ghetto blaster ready for another round of recording. I just bought some fresh tapes, too. So right when I'm getting ready to move the stereo to the edge of the fire escape, I notice another animated blond guy, in a strange hat, with a sports jersey, and he yells up, "Hey, can you record on that?" I yell back "Yeah!" He hollers back "Come hang, and record us inside if you'd like...." Well, kind of a weird exchange of words, but what harm could it be? Who knows, maybe his band "MotherLoveBone" is as cool as their name.
Meanwhile, in everyone is Seattle's cassette deck at the time: