Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore
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I know this similar topic has already been fodder for the MOGos... many of us take issue with bands that keep a name that shouldn't necessarily belong to them anymore, but my buddy, "*The Boy Flood*":http://mog.com/The_Boy_Flood is a particular fan of my rants... ;). This may be a little too early for my next one, but I can't help it if the bastardos at WMMR & their ploy to draw me into purchasing tickets via email, makes me want to shove a fork in my hand. Not really, I kinda need my hands to type these posts - but you get the idea.h1. Alice. in. Chains.Now I am sorry if you are of the mind that even though a MAJOR player in the band (*every* player in the band is MAJOR in my book by the by)leaves, either the band or most unfortunately the world, they are still who they once were. h1. THEY AREN'T !!!Not for me.I take issue with almost all of them... but this one really gets me hot under the hood. *Below is my dissertation on Alice in Chains - abridged for you folks* ;)To say I love this band is one of the biggest understatements of my time spent in the 1990s & beyond. They took grunge & raised it to an artform that set them apart from the pack. They could rock the hard_ass_nails guitar that slashed through any extraneous bullshit, the bassline that explodes in your chest, they lyrics so twisted you wonder if you'll ever get untied. Up to this point I can say this about quite a few from the early 90s & I do. I loved that period in music's long & glorious history. But *+Alice in Chains+* broke away from the pack by creating such spectacular vocal harmonies that somehow found a way to stand out from the strength of the other instruments in the band - it still boggles my mind. It was Alice that first made me want to Fu#^ a lead singer - didn't care that he was doped beyond all hope of salvation - now in my defense - I didn't have a clue at the time that he was shooting up (now with titles like *"Junkhead", "God Smack" & "Sick Man"* - one would think I'd know better - not this prepster - but still, I listened to Layne Staley's wails & I was transported to a land I'd only read about in the magazines my friend's Dad kept under the mattress. *FACELIFT* thanks to MTVs heavy rotation of *"Man in the Box"* was my first introduction. The final image of the hooded figure with his eyes sewn shut, there really hasn't been a horror movie since that freaked me out as much as that vision did, but the song. Mmm, the song. Let's move to *DIRT*. Now *Dirt*, that's where they had me as a fan(atic) for life. For me - it was their Sistine Chapel. I loved *Facelift*, but Dirt was man's hand touching God. What an intro, Layne's slaughtered voice crying out & a killer riff, *"Them Bones"* is one of my favorite opening songs ever... (The only thing that _bothers_ me about listening to it now is seeing all the drug & death references that didn't phase me until April 5, 2002). Until then I was in it for the vocal harmonies, for that guitar that only Jerry can play, don't believe me, take a look at the kids attempting on Youtube - sure there are talented guitarists who can play the songs - but none will play them the way Jerry does. The thumpin bass & and for Layne - always for Layne. ON April 5, 2002 I pulled all that I had from them & listened - I didn't stop until I went through it all, played them several times... I can't say I didn't cry, yell & throw things. When Kurt Cobain passed - I could understand why so many were so upset - but I went about my day - Kurt didn't really speak to me until not too long ago. I only had eyes for Layne; Layne was my guy. Back to *Dirt*... after it came out, I talked two of my friends - didn't take much persuasion, to go with me the night before Thanksgiving to see AiC at the Trocadero in Philly. Took my mazda to the train station, Kevin, Jeff & I had on our thickest black eyeliner (as I said, I was more a preppy kid in dress than a goth, but a lot of my friends were all about the ripped fishnets, spiked collars, pale faces & blood lipstick - the guys in the eyeliner & skinny puppy t-shirts, hair hanging in the face - preferrably over one eye & often some funked shade from Manic Panic) some blood purple lipstick for me, black for the boys & we were on our way. May I just say here kiddies - I am SOOOO GLAD I took the two of them, I would have gotten my ass handed to me if I didn't have the two of them standing right behind me. I still remember looking behind me & seeing them standing rigid... blocking me from the growing monster of a mosh pit. My parents would have gotten a call from the Philly PD, "we're sorry to inform you, but your daughter, poor little lamb, was trampled to death in a mosh pit the size of the Trocadero". Kevin was first into the crowd, then me & Jeff brought up the rear. Once we made it through to the front, Kevin dropped back & we waited. Finally a scrim comes down from the ceiling & lights go up behind it. There he is - my guy - my Layne. We can see his silhouette & Jerry's too. If my aging mind doesn't fail me, they opened with *"Them Bones"* The intro was really _really_ slow, with them kinda teasing us into the song, but as soon as Layne let out that trademark first scream bringing it back to the albums intro, the scrim drops & there he is. I am right in front of him. I never moved from that spot the whole night, my head nearly came off my neck, but I did not move. Not when he threw corn flakes on us, not when he tossed out a few tubs of Philly Cream Cheese & defnitely not when he threw some tastykakes into the crowd, I mean, they weren't even butterscotch krimpets, so who the hell cares anyway ;) I had an heirloom initial ring of my Da's ripped off my finger (not knocked - RIPPED), but there I stood in my Helmet Meantime shirt, jeans & my 6 hole half height lizzard green Docs while some ridiculously made up groupie with horrendously brittle hair (worse than Jerry's) sprayed to the hilt stood to my left side. She kept looking over at me like - poor little thing, she has no clue... I'm going home with him tonight (like I would go home with him if he had asked me ;) - you will never know), but when it was her ass getting kicked by the pit trying to swallow all of us whole & my Helmet T was perfectly happy turning cornflakes from a crisp breakfast cereal to stale(y) _heheh_ yick that you can't get off without a crowbar, I turned to her & smiled sweetly thinking in my head - suck it bitch ;) Wish you could have seen her pull out her compact several times to fix her make up - with A MOSH PIT BEHIND HER - DIRECTLY BEHIND HER. Classic !!! That night I was one ANGRY teen... not the preppy girl who wore almost all Gap & hardly had any black in her wardrobe (a fashion crime I have long since put to rest). Got one of my first concert Ts at the show. (Helmet was from Spencers Gifts... I corrected that error - got the real deal from an ex - still one of my favorite shirts to wear to bed, the thing has so many holes in it, like my first tie-dye... they really don't make it out of the homestead anymore). It was a longsleeved black shirt with a fearful Alice being hung by the tail the Cheshire cat grinning at her dangling body while he starts to unravel himself. It's the witching hour in that _wonder_land oh so long ago - the shirt's clock is ringing midnight. Again, an eerie image made only more so after April 5, 2002. RIP Layne.One of these things is not like the other... nothing against the guy... but he ain't Layne !!!
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