Patrick relished finally getting to play some Sunchyme after running over time last week! After some Eurodisco hits to get in the mood, Patrick riffed on Scott Weiland, the erstwhile Stone Temple Pilots frontman, who died last week aged 48.
I first became aware of Stone Temple Pilots when I saw a poster advertising Plush, and I didn’t know which was the band name and which was the song title. I quickly realised that STP was a leading band in the post-grunge, San Diego Sound movement, creating albums full to the brim with angsty, pained, suggestive Weiland vocals over blues, roots, shoegazing and noiserock influences. Let’s not kid ourselves: Stone Temple Pilots were not a pioneering force on par with Nirvana, Pearl Jam or Soundgarden, but they were accomplished settlers that brought a lot of solace to a lot of disaffected youths during the 1990s. Scott Weiland’s ex-wife and the mother of his now teenage kids Noah and Lucy penned an open letter in Rolling Stone stripping away the romanticist facade with coat our fallen heroes with. The tours, adulation, alcohol and drug fuelled adventures appeal to so many of us as the pinnacle of living, but for Mary Fosberg Weiland they were a nightmare:
Many of these artists have children. Children with tears in their eyes, experiencing panic because their cries go unheard. You might ask, “How were we to know? We read that he loved spending time with his children and that he’d been drug-free for years!” In reality, what you didn’t want to acknowledge was a paranoid man who couldn’t remember his own lyrics and who was only photographed with his children a handful of times in 15 years of fatherhood. I’ve always wanted to share more than anyone was comfortable with. When writing a book years ago, it pained me to sometimes gloss over so much grief and struggle, but I did what I thought was best for Noah and Lucy. I knew they would one day see and feel everything that I’d been trying to shield them from, and that they’d eventually be brave enough to say, “That mess was our father. We loved him, but a deep-rooted mix of love and disappointment made up the majority of our relationship with him.”
And here’s Weiland’s bandmate from his time in Velvet Revolver, Matt Sorum:
“I don’t know how I felt initially. I can’t say it was a shock, but it was definitely… I wasn’t expecting it because I felt like Scott was gonna be here hopefully longer than this.
“When I started to kind of process the feelings – I mean, people know that, in the end, obviously we had our differences and the band split up. But the wave of emotions that you feel is more like a family member. It’s like if you had a family member that maybe you didn’t get along with great, but you still love them. That’s the feeling.”
Patrick pretty much totally stuffed up his diary delve, such was a sudden impact of a technical issue, but still…
Then followed some gibbering about unisex dance troupe Steps and an anecdote from when Patrick saw Wild Things back in 1998. After playing the first song ever played in an annual Hottest 100 countdown, there was a brief chat about the film The End Of The Tour:
I recently read a book called Although Of Course You End Up Becoming Yourself, which is essentially the transcript of a 3-day roadtrip undertaken by David Foster Wallace, right as he is struggling to come to terms with Infinite Jest’s successful publication in 1996, and David Lipsky, an aspiring novelist who yearns for similar levels of adulation. It’s a wonderful exploration of human frailties; the effects of internal and external pressures; high and low culture; and friendship. A film has been made of this book called The End Of The Tour, starring Jason Segal and Jesse Eisenberg, with Anna Chlumsky from classic 90s film My Girl in support. In the book, the two Davids listen to REM’s Monster LP and sing along to Strange Currencies, a really beautiful song. I watched this film with my best friend and I encourage you to do so to.
Patrick concluded by imploring listeners to tune in on 23 December 2015 for Episode 18, which will be a Very Special 90s Style Christmas.