No. 34 - Alternative to what? edition
Parsing out the qualities of 90s alt-rock copycats and also-rans
I recently wrote about music’s middle class and the importance of B- (and C- and D-) list, mid-tier bands to the broader musical ecosystem. I gave a bunch of examples, but I didn’t really dive into any one particular sound or era to illustrate my point due to a combination of lack-of-time (to write) and space (who wants to read a personal newsletter that damn long?).
Anyway.
One of my favourite eras for this sort of deep dive is 90s alt-rock. In part, that’s because I lived it: as an teen obsessed with rock radio, I inhaled pretty much anything that made it onto the airwaves, a steady stream of (almost always) white-men with guitars spewing existential gibberish. I ate it up. All of it.
The TL;DR background piece: Nirvana exploded and brought the rest of the American rock underground with them. Flush with cash from a decade in which the recording industry reached its peak, label A&Rs - the folks charged with trolling the hinterlands for new groups to sign - started looking for “the next Nirvana.” Along with producing a slew of middle-of-the-road alt-rock radio hits, their quest resulted in some pretty wild signings.
As my previous post suggests, I’m not interested in hashing out the qualities of Nirvana, Soundgarden, Pearl Jam, et al. Rather I’m keen on the copycats and also-rans who managed to score real-deal major label gigs and score hit singles and platinum records, only to fade back into obscurity as quickly as the emerged.
Generally speaking, I think you can put the bands that got gobbled up in this era into three buckets (I’ve separated out Canadian acts for the most part - as I’ve written previosuly, they’re a whole other thing in my mind): the Grunge Puppies, the Soft (Alt) Rockers and the Fearless Freaks.
What follows is hardly a comprehensive list. Rather, I’ve pulled out a handful of acts from each bucket to illustrate the various flavours of sounds and aesthetcis that were at work. If you’re looking for something a little more thorough the playlist below might be your cup of tea.
Grunge Puppies
These are the bands who asked little of the imaginations of the major label A&R scouts who came sniffing around after grunge broke. To be sure, a lot of the actual grunge OGs - Mudhoney, Tad, Melvins - and the bands that inspired them - Flipper, the Jesus Lizard, Meat Puppets - ended up with deals. But I’m talking about the ones who weren’t connected to Seattle, the larger rock underground or its indie ethos. Bands like Silverchair, Candlebox (yes they were from Seattle, but they weren’t part of the “scene”) Live and Seven Mary Three tended to mirror Eddie Vedder’s wounded howl with heavy guitars, and loud-soft-loud song structures.
Stone Temple Pilots were probably the first band to find both success and cries of bandwagon jumping. Of course, they proved naysayers wrong expanding their sound while continuing to deliver some of the decade’s biggest rock hits and history has been extremely kind to the band (side note: Scott Weiland’s 1998 solo album, 12-Bar Blues is wild trip worth checking out).
See also: Silverchair
Though Creed would later eclipse them, Collective Soul were the mid-90s are-they-or-aren’t-they Christian alt-rock band. Regardless of their faith, the group, who began life as a studio project for singer Ed Rolland, scored a serious run of hits in the middle decade. Before Foo Fighters’ Color and the Shape established a rock radio sound that’s still echoing on the airwaves today, their heavy - but not aggressive - guitar sound was sort of the MOR ideal. Stereogum’s Tom Breihan recently described them as “the first radio-ready post-grungers to truly take off.” By the end of the century though they were increasingly looking like the least cool thing in their own music videos.
See also: Live
Speaking of aging rock stars, at somepoint in the 90s, I recall reading about how Art Alexakis’ soul patch and bleach-blonde hair had become the official look of corporate suits (dude was 35 when Sparkle & Fade hit!) which didn’t seem to hurt Everclear’s fortunes. If you were looking for songs about shitty dads, they were your band.
Bush or more specifically singer-guitarist Gavin Rossdale who was dating an later married (and divorced) Gwen Stefani, singer for alt-rock adjacent ska-punks No Doubt, were the poster boys of the post-grunge set. I was super into them, to the point that I lined up for hours outside of the Future Shop on Broadway in Vancouver to get Rossdale’s autograph in the summer of 1996. Their debut, Sixteen Stone was basically ignored in their native UK. But it spawned a bunch of alt-rock hits on this side of the pond that you can still hear in grocery stores today. Their very massive follow-up, Razorblade Suitcase was produced by none-other than supreme-arbiter-of-indie-cred Steve Albini who apparently did it soley so he could afford to build his own studio. The record was a bit of a mess as the band grappled with commercial expectations and their desire to be taken seriously. They headlined the first night of Woodstock 99, playing directly after Korn, but even at the time it felt like the cultural winds had sailed.
See also: Days of the New
The apocryphal story among my group of high school friends was that upon first hearing Vancouver indie act Nickelback’s “Fly” demo on local radio station CFOX, someone yelled out “Bush have gone too far!” which says about all you need to know about a band who became one of the biggest in the next decade.
The Soft (Alt) Rockers
There was a whole different cohort of bands who had nothing to do with Seattle, grunge or the indie underground, but got swept up in the great signing spree that followed in Nirvana’s wake. As Stereogum’s Tom Breihan (yep, that guy again) recently wrote, “‘alternative’ went from a kind of positioning, a left-of-the-dial signifier that grouped a whole lot of different subgenres and subcultures under one banner, to a vague stylistic descriptor.” The Soft (Alt) Rockers music presented as alt, even if it had more spiritually in common with classic rock, jam bands, power-pop, alt-country, etc. and spawned its fair-share of overly-earnest power-ballads.
Matchbox 20 were probably the poster children for middle-of-the-road rock in the 90s. A recognizable and handsome white, male singer, backed by two to four other faceless white male musicians, playing tunes with just the right amount of grit and distortion to get them on radio without raising the hackles of the decade’s rock purists. See also: Third Eye Blind, Tonic, Fuel
As the decade wore on, more and more groups kept emerging, each one offering slighter sonic shifts and smaller returns than the last. Eventually they all started blurring together. Today, they are the small font bands on the growing number of 90s alt-rock nostalgia fests, playing their hit(s) at two in the afternoon while folks are biding their time for Soul Asylum. But there was a time when a relatively faceless band like Better Than Ezra and their yearning (for what? It was never very clear!) mid-tempo rock tunes were a ubiquitous radio presence.
See also: the Verve Pipe, Fastball, Marcy’s Playground, Vertical Horizon, Dishwalla
In another universe, Counting Crows and the Wallflowers would have fit neatly in with the no depression movement bands like Uncle Tupelo had helped spearhead a few years prior. Neither came directly from that world (though with Jakob Dylan’s pedigree, I’m sure the scene would have been happy to have him) so perhaps its not surprising that their respective labels were able to quite succesfully market them as down the middle rock acts.
See also: The Refreshments, The Bottle Rockets
Guns N’ Roses, the biggest (and most dysfunctional) rock band at the beggining of the 90s, were never able to quite adjus to the new alt-rock cultural landscape. Weirdly, Axl Rose’s childhood friend Shannon Hoon, who sang back up on the Use Your Illusion records and can be seen singing with the band in the “Don’t Cry” video, did at least for a brief moment. Blind Melon were a something of an anachronism; sporting a flower-power image with a jam-band sound, they nevertheless found their place in the musical tumult in an era where the 60s and 70s were as fetishized as the 80s are today, and scored one big, beautiful hit in the process. Sadly, Hoon didn’t adjust well to fame and died of a drug overdose while touring behind the band’s excellent, though ignored at the time, second album Soup.
See also: Spin Doctors, Blues Traveller
There was maybe 18 months in the mid-90s where there seemed to be something of an effort made to make glam rock - the early 70s youth movement that swept the UK and made nary a cultural dent in North America - a thing. Aesthetically this started popping up in alt-rock fashion and music video set decoration, but Spacehog were probably the only band who really made any effort to incorporate Bolan, Bowie and Roxy Music into their sound, and scored one very good hit (and one very good kind-of hit) in the process. The good times didn’t last, but to anyone who enjoyed their debut, Resident Alien, I’d recommend their little-heard second album.
Buffalo’s Goo Goo Dolls began life as a pretty straight-forward (and surprisingly good!) Replacements rip-off act before settling into one of alt’s most reliable soft-rock hit makers. Along the way they delivered what is hands down the best alt-rock power-ballad for a movie literally no one remembers. “Yeah, you bleeeeed just to know you’re alive!!!!!!!”
See also: Gin Blossoms
In their year-end wrap up for 1995 someone at Rolling Stone, not exactly a paragon of underground cool, credited Hootie and the Blowfish for making it safe to wear Dockers. While I don’t think that single line killed their multiplatinum momentum, it does encapsulate where the band - and alt-rock in general - sat in the cultural landscape at that moment. The year have been kinder to the band, though listening back to Cracked Rear View recently I couldn’t help but notice the group had way more in common with at-the-time ascendant Christian rock bands like Jars of Clay than the alt-rock bands they were sharing airtime with on rock radio.
The Fearless Freaks
Major labels were taking a lot of flyers in the 90s. So fierce was the search for “the next Nirvana” that A&R reps started gobbling up anything with a whiff of underground cred. That meant a lot of artists who had no business being on a major label got deals. For some, the move worked out just fine while for others the whole thing was more of a lark before they went back to their life underground, hopefully with a few more fans than they when they started. Side bar: I don’t really talk about funk metal (RHCP, Faith No More, Jane’s Addiction) or industrial rock (NIN, Stabbing Westward, Filter) here, even though they were hovering around the alt rock periphery. Both kind of their whole own thing, but they was defintitely a lot of overlap between thoses scenes and alt-rock.
Today the Flaming Lips are an indie rock legacy act who’s live reputation often threatens to overshadow the brilliance of The Soft Bulletin and Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots. Even knowing what they’d become though, it’s hard to imagine what Warner Bros. heard In a Priest Driven Ambulance and immediately saw gold and platinum records, or why they were willing to indulge the band’s ambitious (or bonkers, depending on how you look at it) sonic experiments.
See also: Butthole Surfers
Japanese experimental noise rockers Boredoms landed on Reprise mostly because they’d signed with the Japanese arm of the labels’ parent company, Warner Bros. They found some success, landing on the 1994 Lollapalooza line-up before Reprise dropped them State-side. Nevertheless, Pop Tatari and Chocolate Synthesizer are probably two of the most intentionally weird records the majors have ever released.
It says a lot about how much labels were scrambling to keep up with the tidal wave of musical change the came in Nirvana’s wake that someone thought San Diego’s Drive Like Jehu could be contenders. No shade to their brilliant debut, but the band’s chaotic rumble lacked the sharp hooks and melodies of their Seattle contemporaries. Interscope picked up both Drive Like Jehu and singer-guitarist John Reis’ other band Rocket From the Crypt; Jehu disbanded shortly after releasing their classic second album Yank Crime, which didn’t do much business, but certainly set its members up for future success. After RFC disbanded (they never really became the household name Interscope had hoped for) Reis and the band’s other singer-guitarist Rick Froberg formed Hot Snakes, while drummer Mark Trombino became a big-name producer and engineer for groups like Blink-182, Jimmy Eat World and Brand New.
See also: The Jesus Lizard
Like the Lips, Beck was no sure thing. Even when the success of “Loser” essentially forced the major’s hands, few figured him for much more than a one-hit wonder, let alone a chameleon-like Grammy winning, legacy act. Hell, this was a thrift-shop folkie who follows up a multi-platinum, critically acclaimed record like Odelay with a low-key tropicalia jam. Yet he still became a lasting star.
See also: Eels
Though “Lump” and “Peaches” would suggest success was always in the cards for Seattle’s Presidents of the United States of America, were way out of step with the alt-mainstream. Their debut was played using modified guitars featuring just two bass strings and three regular guitar strings each (there are supposed to be four and six, respectively) and filled with self-depricating tunes. At the time of its recording their drummer Jason Finn was doing time in the just-signed-to-a-major Love Battery, who defintiely seemed like they were the better bet. Yet the trio proved to be potent counter-programming to prevailing dour sounds of their contemporaries. No wonder a “Weird” Al parody fell flat - you can’t make fun of something that’s already a joke.
See also: Local H, Harvey Danger
After dominating the 80s, metal went through an identity crisis that lasted most of the proceeding decade. Only the bands who could hang at the alt-kids table really found much traction. White Zombie, who combined stoner-rock riffs with B-movie horror and sci-fi aesthetics, were one of the successful few. Still, it almost didnt happen. If it hadn’t been for the approval of the decade’s two top critics the group could have easily been lost to the dustbin of history.
See also: Pantera, Prong
Look, I’ve never been able to get down with Ween. But what I do know about them - their sonic shapeshifting, musical ecentricities, etc - doesn’t exactly scream “long-term mainstream career.” Yet, not only did this band survive and thrive, Dean and Gene Ween managed to become cult heroes, whose influence continues to be felt to this day.
See also: They Might Be Giants, Cake
Kool Kids Self-promotion Club
I wrote about the fantastic new Charli XCX album, Crash, for Exclaim’s list of the Best Albums of 2022 So Far, calling it “as ambitious as it is familiar, pairing old grooves with new melodies while balancing performance art with chart-topping ambitions.” Needless to say, I think it’s too damn low on the list, but I’ve been known to share unpopular opinions in the past.
I also recently submitted by shortlist ballot for the 2022 Polaris Music Prize, “given to the best full-length Canadian album based on artistic merit, regardless of genre, sales, or record label.” The jury is made up of music media and industry folks like myself. My first round ballot included Sophia Bel and Bria who sadly didn’t make it to this year’s longlist, giving me a pair of open slots that were hard to fill, in the sense that there was a lot of great stuff to choose from. Anyway, here’s what I eventually settled on.
1. PUP - THE UNRAVELING OF PUPTHEBAND
2. Luna Li - Duality
3. Ada Lea - one hand on the steering wheel the other sewing a garden
4. LOONY - soft thing
5. Ombiigizi - Sewn Back Together
Kool Kids Recommendation Club
I recently caught Ethel Cain’s show here in Toronto and I gotta say it was pretty revelatory. Folks were dressed up as Cain and hung on her every word. I will never tire of the feeling that comes when from the emotional back and forth betweetn performer and audience. Her debut album, Preacher’s Daughter is an imperfect record, but the highs, like the single “American Teenager,” far oustrip its meandering length. She is the trans, southern gothic Lana Del Rey you need in your life.
“Home,” the breakout single from anonymous British duo Two Shell, is essentially a remix of Danish group Chinah’s 2015 track “Away from Me.” Sophie was the first artist that came to mind when I heard the track, not that I’m predicting the pair to spawn their own cottage industry of collaborators and immitators. Like any producer worth their salt though, Two Shell morph the slinky slow-jam into something totally their own, a bright, textured jungle throwback that feels at once familiar and yet totally alien.
In another life, JoJo Worthington was one of one-million indie-pop artists working their way up the Canadian music ladder, landing song placements and racking up songwriting awards along the way. She was pretty good! Something clearly clicked since her last EP back in 2019 though, because Baptized I, her first new music in three years is far grander and weirder than anything she’s previously done. “Win Butler” opens with a wall sound reminiscent of the Cure’s epic “Plainsong.” It’s broadly about music’s power and specifically about Arcade Fire’s power to inspire a young JoJo Worthington to leave Kitchener-Waterloo and move to Montreal.
Grace Ives has been making thrift-shop pop tracks for a number of years now, crafting sharp hooks out of borrowed sounds and budget beats. The quarter-life crisis gets a lot of mileage on her second album, Janky Star, but Ives, with the help of producer Justin Raisen, imbues its tales of financial hardship and creative stagnanation with a playful, rickety charm. The album’s final track, the terrific “Lullaby,” chronicles the false comforts we find in a never-ending routine over a simple, hypnotic piano riff. Expect to hear lots more from her in the future.
I have been very on the fence about Toronto rockers The Beaches over the years. Something about their music always felt a little forced to me, though I could never quite put my finger on why. Whatever my personal hangups, they’ve been doing just fine, building steady support from both fans and the industry while slowly expanding their sound. “Grow Up Tomorrow” feels like the culmination of all that, a breezy party jam - I believe the kids would call it “a bop” - that mainlines straight into your brain. The line about buying a couch, once my ultimate signifier of adulthood, really rings true. Party on, Wayne!
Ian Gormely is a freelance music journalist based in Toronto.
Hit up koolkidsmusicclub@gmail.com for questions, criticisms and submissions.