Sub Pop is one of the most important and influential American record labels. Started in 1988 by Jonathan Poneman and Bruce Pavitt, and based in Seattle, Sup Pop put out early recordings by such groups as Mudhoney, the Afghan Whigs, the Flaming Lips, Soundgarden, the Screaming Trees, and Nirvana. Poneman and Pavitt not only have good taste and a keen sense for what will sell, but are also masters at branding and marketing. For example, their Sub Pop Singles Club, in which subscribers willingly fork over their money with no prior knowledge of the participating bands, was a game changer, and the label came up with a t-shirt with the word “Loser” emblazoned across the front, and the Sub Pop logo on the back. The shirt is now iconic.

On June 9, 1989, Sub Pop’s “Lame Fest” was held at the Moore Theater in Seattle. Nirvana, Mudhoney, and another young Sub Pop group, TAD, were on the bill. It was a wild night, with the bands and the crowd battling the security guards.
 

 
Dangerous Minds has an excerpt from the upcoming Gillian G. Gaar book, World Domination: The Sub Pop Records Story, in which details of the event are told. The passage also gets into the second Lame Fest, as well as the Nirvana contract, insisted upon by the band, that would one day benefit the label. The text begins with reference to the recent attention Sub Pop acts had received in the British press.

Sub Pop’s profile was further heightened stateside at the label’s first “Lame Fest,” held on June 9 at Seattle’s Moore Theatre, featuring Nirvana, TAD, and Mudhoney and billed as “Seattle’s lamest bands in a one-night orgy of sweat and insanity!” Initially, there had been doubts that the show would make any money; local bands played clubs, not a fifteen-hundred-seat theater. But the concert ended up selling out.

“Booking the Moore was an epic gesture, which is how we did things,” Bruce Pavitt notes with pride. “The bands were killing it live, so we knew Seattle would go o if we could get people there. The theater’s manager let most of his security staff go prior to the show, thinking that nobody would show up. And there was complete pandemonium. Google those YouTube videos, kids, it’s an epic moment!” The show doubled as a release party for Nirvana’s first album, Bleach (the first thousand copies on white vinyl).

Nirvana had also recently become the first act to sign a record contract with Sub Pop. Earlier in the year, Nirvana bassist Krist Novoselic had turned up at Bruce’s house one evening, demanding a written contract; previously, Sub Pop had only made verbal agreements with its artists. Jon [Poneman] hastily drafted a one-year contract, with options for two further years; the contract was signed on June 3 but backdated to January 1, 1989. “Righteous heaviness from these Olympia pop stars,” was the Sub Pop catalog’s assessment of Bleach. “They’re young, they own their own van, and they’re going to make us rich!”

The success of the first Lame Fest led to a second one being held overseas. “Jon and I had very little resources but a lot of enthusiasm at that time,” Bruce recalls. “And we were constantly brainstorming and trying to piece together strategies that would help convince the rest of the world that Seattle had an amazing rock scene. Once we saw that model work in Seattle, we were really dead set on getting all three bands playing in London and getting as many press people and photographers there as possible.”

With Nirvana, TAD, and Mudhoney all touring the UK and Europe that fall, a Lame Fest date was arranged for December 3 at London’s Astoria Theatre. Bruce cites the concert as “a true turning point in the international stature of the Seattle music scene.”

 
Much more after the jump…

 
Without Mudhoney, there’s no grunge scene writ large and so therefore there’s no Nirvana either. A bold claim to be sure, but not too controversial when you consider that Mudhoney was the first band from Seattle during that era to make a major splash outside of the Pacific Northwest, which had the effect of attracting area musicians to the city while also putting the world and major record labels on notice.

If you were a fan of the grunge movement as it was happening, you’ll be sure to enjoy the 2012 documentary I’m Now: The Story of Mudhoney, directed Adam Pease and Ryan Short. It’s chock full of amusing tidbits.

For instance: Mark Arm’s day job is managing the Sub Pop warehouse. When you order something from Sub Pop, there’s a decent chance that Mark Arm himself is the person who seals it in cardboard for shipping.

The movie covers Mudhoney’s origins as a high school band called Mr. Epp, in which both Arm and Steve Turner played. Later on, Arm’s band Green River, whose LP was Sub Pop’s first release, broke up, and Arm instantly got on the phone to cajole Turner into forgoing his studies and joining forces.

Arm is touted in the movie as the originator of the term grunge but with typical humility he hastens to point out that the word was originally applied to Australian bands such as the Scientists and Beasts of Bourbon. In voiceover, a band member acutely observes that the term was really “a different way of saying punk rock.”

Legendary Seattle producer Jack Endino mentions that his only comment upon hearing the band play was, “Are you sure you want the guitarist to be this dirty?”

Continues after the jump…

 
Nirvana might have put a hammerlock on the word grunge for the coming aeons of posterity, but to my mind the question “What is the quintessential grunge band?” has a much better answer, and that’s Mudhoney.

Mudhoney achieved significant notoriety, both in the U.S. and abroad, before Nirvana did. They were the band around which the Seattle scene coalesced more than any other. Mudhoney was born out of the ashes of Green River, which had been active since 1985, and their single “Touch Me I’m Sick” was the defining grunge song until Nirvana came along with “Smells Like Teen Spirit” in late 1991.

Mudhoney drew inspiration from (at the time) under-heralded heroes such as Roky Erickson and Billy Childish in establishing their raucous, sloppy, heavy, fuzzy sound. I used to joke that Mark Arm was the one frontman out there where most fans singing along on their own could nail the correct key with the same approximate frequency, but the fact is, Arm was and is one of the greatest pure howlers rock and roll has ever seen. 

Plus, Mudhoney had one of the best band names ever, which almost everyone reading this knows derived from a Russ Meyer movie from 1965.
 

An homage to the Slits on the “Burn it Clean” single
 
In July 1989 they were in New York for the New Music Seminar and played a short set at the Ritz, in the same premises that had once been Studio 54.

Watch the show, after the jump…

 
In 2000 a temporary agglomeration of Seattle fuzz-rock talent coalesced in the form of the New Strychnines in order to pay homage to one of the city’s most revered godfathers of rock, the Sonics, who had been causing astounded listeners to shake their booties as early as 1960. Seattle’s fascinating musical lineage includes one of the most important early garage rock bands—the Sonics—as well as the world’s greatest rock guitarist while also being, of course, the epicenter of the global grunge movement in the late 1980s and early 1990s. The Sonics were actually from Tacoma but have long since been adopted by far larger Seattle as an important part of the city’s roots.

On Mudhoney’s website it even claims that the New Strychnines “are 75% of Mudhoney,” as it includes Mark Arm on vocals, Steve Turner on bass, and Dan Peters on the drums. The combo also includes Tom Price of Gas Huffer, Bill “Kahuna” Henderson of Girl Trouble, and Scott McCaughey of the Young Fresh Fellows.
 

 
The sole album of the New Strychnines was called The New Original Sonic Sound. The material was actually released multiple times in 2000 and 2001 and in some cases the name of the combo was given as The New Original Sonic Sound, which really just seems like someone fucked up somewhere. Either way the album boasts 16 impeccably turned-out Sonics classics turned out by most of Mudhoney and some of their talented friends. Every single track is credited to Gerry Roslie and Larry Parypa, respectively the lead vocalist and lead guitarist of the Sonics.

You can’t see the New Strychnines perform but you can see the Sonics….

Continues after the jump…

 
Experiencing Nirvana: Grunge in Europe, 1989 is one of those perfect records of music history that galvanizes the pedestrian as easily as the aural devotee. Chronicling eight electric (and sometimes volatile) days of Nirvana, Mudhoney, and Tad’s 1989 European tour, Sub Pop co-founder Bruce Pavitt has curated his memories, reflections and beautiful photography in an intimate compendium.On the very cusp of the grunge explosion, Pavitt had the wherewithal to photograph the small moments—moments which provide an ambient framing for this lovely scrapbook.

Bruce was kind enough to give Dangerous Minds an exclusive interview on the book, which helps support Seattle’s Vera Project.

(And for those of you in the New York area, Pavitt is launching a month-long installation exhibit at Rough Trade NYC. This Saturday, he’ll be there signing copies, with a Q&A session lead by Michael Azerrad. I’ll be in the corner fangirling and livetweeting @Amber_A_Lee.)

Amber Frost: How did this book come together?

Bruce Pavitt: My friend and editor Dan Burke and I originally released Experiencing Nirvana as an e-book using iBooks Author. Ian Christe from Bazillion Points then contacted us and offered to release it as a hardcover. The whole project has taken about a year and a half, and it’s been quite a process.

Amber Frost: The concept of a retroactive tour diary is total brain candy. Is it what you had in mind at first? Or did the format take shape as you organized your thoughts and materials?

Bruce Pavitt: From the beginning, we knew that we had a series of images that told a story; in fact we feel that Experiencing Nirvana would make an ideal storyboard for a film! Of course, we realized that the photos needed to be embellished with reconstructed diary entries to fully bring the images to life.

Amber Frost: There’s this strange sense of excitement in a lot of the photos—how much of that was the band’s growing success, and how much was just the thrill of being young and traveling?

Bruce Pavitt: A bit of both. My biz partner Jon and I knew that Nirvana, Tad and Mudhoney were three of the greatest live bands we’d ever seen. Those feelings were validated from both the crowds and the critics overseas. People went off at every show, and it built to a climax when all three bands shared the same stage in London. The photos show our appreciation of both the bands and the awe inspiring scenery.
 

Pavitt’s picture of Kurt Cobain in Rome
 
Amber Frost: What was your sense of the tour’s significance at the time? Did you have predictions? How did they turn out?

Bruce Pavitt: I’ve never taken more photos, neither before nor after. I instinctively felt that this tour would be historically significant, and both Jon and I believed that this London showcase would put Seattle on the map. As it turned out, NME proclaimed Nirvana to be “Sub Pop’s answer to the Beatles.” Our gamble paid off.

Amber Frost: You describe a lot of stress on the tour—particularly with Kurt wanting to simply go home. How fragile or stable did the band feel?

Bruce Pavitt: Both Tad and Nirvana were fairly ragged after zig zagging across Europe in a shared van for almost 6 weeks. By the time we met up with the crew in Rome, Kurt was out of patience. It was just day by day after that, until the band finished up in London.

Amber Frost: A lot of Nirvana’s legacy is obscured by the tragedy of Kurt’s death, so much so that his personality is often simplified into depression and addiction. How would you describe him as a person?

Bruce Pavitt: Kurt was essentially a sweet and sensitive guy, creative, humorous and a true fan of indie music. He was also moody, introspective, and appreciated his alone time.

Amber Frost: In the book you obviously talk about Mudhoney and Tad as well Since grunge was gaining popularity as a movement, did you predict at all that Nirvana would becoming its unwitting “stars?”

Bruce Pavitt: My Sub Pop partner Jon Poneman was Nirvana’s earliest and biggest fan. However, by the time Nirvana played London in December of ’89, I was a true believer.

Amber Frost: With the genre name no longer in use, and Sub Pop now an institution, what do you think the “legacy” of grunge is?

Bruce Pavitt: Grunge was very welcoming and inclusive. For a not-so-brief moment in time, anyone with a flannel shirt and a pawn shop guitar could feel that they had a chance to change the world. I welcome a resurgence of that attitude.

I want this hoodie so bad….
 
Noisey has a marvelous post up right now I would urge Nirvana fans to go check out. The post is by Sub Pop co-founder Bruce Pavitt, and it features a bunch of photos from Nirvana’s first European tour with Mudhoney and Tad that have never been published before.
 

Kurt Cobain, holding his coat. Presumably, that’s Tad Doyle on the right.
 
These photos really bring me back. First, a word on Tad. Nobody talks about them any more, but in some ways Tad was the ultimate Seattle grunge band, fronted by Tad Doyle, who everybody always said was “this 300-pound dentist, man!” That element was always the same, “this 300-pound dentist.” I was very fond of their album God’s Balls, and especially the song “Behemoth,” which I’ve included below. After Nine Inch Nails and Marilyn Manson and who knows who else, “Behemoth” doesn’t sound that exceptional any more, but at the time, it went to a dark, angry, intimidating place very few “pop” songs had gone. 

In the post, Pavitt emphasizes the drama of touring with the emotionally and physically fragile Kurt Cobain. Here’s Pavitt on the Rome show:
 

Nirvana’s turn was next… Ten songs into their set, Kurt, frustrated with his guitar, smashed it completely and climbed a tall stack of speakers. The crowd looked on, with many drunk spectators yelling “Jump!” It was a dramatic moment, potentially harmful. I witnessed the event from the club floor, stunned, while Jon and Tad looked down from the artists’ area on the second floor. Everyone was holding their breath, not sure if Kurt would actually jump. We were panicked, and extremely concerned for Kurt’s well-being.

“Hello, we’re one of the three official representatives of the Seattle Sub Pop scene from Washington State!” Kurt Cobain screeched into the microphone. Nirvana then tore into their typical opener, the riff-heavy “School.” Rocking hard, Kurt immediately broke a string. Frustrated, he hustled off stage to replace it while Krist and Chad starting pounding out a Stooges cover, “I Wanna Be Your Dog.” In the confusion, some of the crowd climbed onstage and began diving off.

 
Pavitt’s post addresses a question I’ve been wondering about since late 1991, when Nirvana took over the world, or actually slightly even earlier, when Nirvana’s Bleach was wearing out my CD player in the summer of 1990—that being what Mudhoney made of all the hoopla about Nirvana.

People forget, but there was a couple years there where Mudhoney, not Nirvana, were the darlings of the Seattle grunge scene. Mudhoney had been around a little longer, and they had toured the UK well before Nevermind came out, and they were the toast of the UK press for a good stretch. Even after the buzz about Nirvana started, you would often hear Mudhoney and Nirvana mentioned in about equal terms. “Touch Me, I’m Sick” was Seattle’s anthem for a while. After Nevermind, of course, that stopped being the case.
 

Mark Arm and Dan Peters of Mudhoney and Steve Double
 
One of the greatest gigs I ever saw was seeing Mudhoney play Vienna’s U4 venue in the summer of 1990. I was stuck in Vienna for the summer, staying at my grandparents’ empty apartment for a few weeks while I took a German course. I was lonely and my German wasn’t very good and I didn’t really have any clue, in an unfamiliar foreign city, how to connect with anything that was going on that was appropriate for my age, which was 20. It was a little depressing, to be honest. Somehow I figured out that Mudhoney was coming to town and I scored a ticket. That show was incredibly intense, the mosh pit (mosh pits were crossing over around then) was insane, and that show supplied a necessary release when I most needed it.

I got ahold of Mudhoney’s self-titled debut album a little before Nirvana’s Bleach. For a long time—even after Nirvana went huge—I professed Mudhoney to be my favorite band. In fact, I can remember buying Nevermind and Mudhoney’s Every Good Boy Deserves Fudge on the same day at Rhino Records in New Paltz, New York, and while Nevermind had the undeniable allure of a massively successful album, it was EGBDF that remained closer to my heart in many ways. EGBDF hasn’t aged very well, and in retrospect my stubborn refusal to acknowledge Nirvana’s superiority over Mudhoney seems like a piece of fandom reminiscent of the love one has for a sports team.

Anyway, in Pavitt’s account of that Rome show, he adds, “Mark Arm from Mudhoney looked on, speechless, at the band that was about to dethrone his own.”

So there we have it—the moment, well before Nevermind was even a thing—when, according to Pavitt, Mark Arm realized that his days of ruling Seattle were about to come to an end. The truth is that the willfully sludge-y and perverse Mudhoney were never going to be a huge act for the long haul—check out their Piece of Cake to hear an album that is going out of its way to alienate its listeners.
 

Matt Lukin of Mudhoney and Kurt Cobain
 
According to the post, the pictures are a taste of Pavitt’s new book about that tour, Experiencing Nirvana: Grunge in Europe, 1989, which is available in hardback in December (pre-order), but you can apparently buy the Kindle version right now. I really hope Pavitt discusses the legendary “troll village” show Nirvana played in Austria, which I remember reading about in Gina Arnold’s Route 666: On the Road to Nirvana.

Tad, “Behemoth”:

 
After the jump, more of Pavitt’s pics….