I grew up in the "Eastside metal scene" in Seattle where that thing called "grunge" got started. (We never called it that. It was just metal to us.)

These bands and players were all friends, although slightly older than me. (The difference between a 17-year old and a 21-year old is significant!)

Chris was 2 years older than me, so this hits personally, both as a fellow metalhead from Seattle and that era, and as an approaching-50-year-old man.

I find myself today, reminiscing and thinking of the old clubs and shows in Seattle... the Gorilla Gardens, Lone Star, Hotel Utah, The Vogue, The Central, and even RKCNDY. The noise... the smell of sweat and leather and spilled beer and Marlboro Reds leeching into the fabric covers on shitty old Peavy amps... practice spaces in old warehouses, walls covered in mattresses and egg cartons... and camaraderie. There wasn't a lot of strife or beef between bands. We all knew we were alone out here, forgotten in the top left corner of America, and we only had each other.

Bands renting vans together and making weekend-long roadtrips down to SF to try and play for different audiences and get some visibility. Because Seattle was NOWHERE, man.

Blasting back home, driving 16 hours all Sunday night, showing up late to work on Monday morning smelling of... leather, beer, cigarettes, and heavy metal.

Fuck. Those were hard, scrappy days. But goddamn they were fun.