Back in 2016 I posted a conversation with John Hurd, a member of the band Tic Dolly Row/The Magnet Men, who shared a stage with Nirvana (then going by the name Bliss) at the Community World Theater in September 1987.

Mysteriously, a cassette of the band performing on KAOS Radio in 1987 has surfaced with Chad on drums, John Hurd on guitar, Ben Shepherd (future Soundgarden) on vocals and Chris Karr on bass. The session took place under the auspices of John Goodmanson who hosted Nirvana for their first radio session in May of the same year.


Way back in 2013 I was in the midst of this weird outpouring of Nirvana-related analysis here on the blog: spreadsheets, estimated set-lists, mapped tours, aggregated tables of information, which song did Nirvana play live the most/the least, which titles of apparently unreleased songs still exist…

As part of that, I took the data from the Nirvana Live Guide and looked at the bands known to have supported Nirvana over the years:

The crazy names, all the bands I’d never heard of, it fascinated me – so I ended up trying to track them down to interview them and the results turned into the I Found My Friends: The Oral History of Nirvana book (it’s $4 on at the moment – the publisher is clearing out their stock it seems.) Amidst it all, one of the people I was most privileged to meet was John Purkey and his friends Bob, Pat, Ryan, Sally, Mike (RIP) and Rochelle – my visit to Tacoma stays in my memory as one of the finest times of my past decade.

John was a friend of Kurt Cobain and he has recently commenced a YouTube series talking about his memories, playing the cassette tapes Cobain gave to him, generally describing a world n’ time some quarter of a century ago in a part of the world most of us know little of (though I recommend a visit).

I still treasure the memory of sitting in John’s front room and seeing how much it still affected him speaking of a lost friend – it was a privilege to be there.

If you’re interested, the videos are on YouTube under the channel ‘The Observer’ – all worth a watch.


Marco Porsia is currently in the midst of creating the film Where Does A Body End? regarding the truly awesome Swans. He’s put together this brief three minute film to commemorate the final show of this Swans line up which took place earlier this month in New York City.

I’d have to say, after so many years of watching (and loving) live music, Swans are the only band where I was ever struck by the desire – mid-show – to abandon everything and just go watch them night-after-night-after-night. They remain the standard against which I judge a live show: does the set flow? Is this a journey or just a grab-bag of songs? Was it possible to surprise me with the decisions made? Did I hear something new? Did I hear old things anew? Did I lose track of time and space and the presence of others? Did I reach a point of complete surrender to sound and spectacle? Swans.

Currently trying to read more fiction. Two authors in particular are heading up my “what’s awesome?” list. Firstly, Adam Nevill:

He’s a British horror author I’ve followed a while now. His first book was very visibly someone learning as they went – a university/post-university effort but it’s been great to see that develop into such a diverse expertise in how to chill. I loved Last Days for its keen observance of cult structures and the building dread; The Ritual for the sense of being hunted in a believable space; then his most recent works have entered something new. No One Gets Out Alive is the tale of a down-on-her-luck zero-hours girl scratching together enough money to live and forced to take the worst accommodation with the grimmest bottom-feeders, the kind of guys who take advantage of the weak. It’s gift was in making something that is a part of day-to-day life feel more horrific than the imaginary or the supernatural: the way the two realms worked together created something with huge emotional power. Lost Girl was another step out of fantasy and into something closer to home: a world beset by the realities of climate change, in which predating on one’s fellow man is increasingly the norm, in which money provides insulation – again, the weaving of supernatural into a believable context was talented and intriguing.

On a lighter note, the other author I’ve got a lot of time for right now is Jonathan L. Howard:

I’ve got one more book to go in the Johannes Cabal series. The tale of an amoral anti-hero with a talent for unwitting humour and knowing sarcasm, again and again there’s a turn of phrase that I have to stop and re-read to appreciate how beautifully done or imaginatively written it is. Add on the humour, the depth, the diverse landscape in which everything takes place…I’ve become a big fan. I’m concluding The Brothers Cabal at the moment and enjoying the digressions and diversions (the scene where he lectures the creatures that live in the garden on who/what to eat and not to eat for example.)


I should have mentioned this about a year ago but juggling job, writing, life…Time burns. It’s the one thing I miss about a daily commute: it was an excellent place to read – I carry a book whenever I leave the house even now. At home there are too many distractions – except when in the bathroom of course – but out and about it’s possible to read and just let the world go by.

So, basically, this is an intriguing one. The key to it is just to sink in and let the beauty of the language and the description just flow. The concept stands on the idea of a lonely teenage girl waking up in hospital to discover Kurt Cobain is there too with no memory of his former life and unrecognised by those around; they begin a relationship; they live the fan-dream life of starting a band with him and…And things go wrong. At first sight I could have just yawned and thought ‘fan fiction’ but it’s just too well-written. The book is wreathed in vivid detail that left it somewhere between an enthralling dream sequence and something painted so perfectly it seems tangibly real. Definitely not something I’d have expected to see in the realms of Nirvana/Cobain-related writing but one I’d recommend to anyone who just likes good fiction which I would define as an interesting premise taken on an unpredictable and surprising journey in words that enhance and inspire emotion throughout. It definitely hits that.

I’m often surprised there hasn’t been more literature drawing on the experience of musicians – Joe Hill’s Heart Shaped Box is the only one that immediately comes to mind – but I’m guessing it’s because few musicians who lived the life also have the talent for writing and, vice versa, few writers have the experience of being actively touring musicians…I reckon Crosbie does a good job of showing that passion, energy and a gift for words can bring something like this to a point where it feels real. Real talent.

I did this piece for The Vinyl Factory recently – a relatively easy one for me given my day-to-day listening habits have quite a lot of space for John Carpenter’s work at the moment. Assault On Precinct 13 and The Fog are my favourite soundtracks of his I admit.

In life, all the time, I’m struck that I think most things are good/bad simultaneously. It’s like candy: the initial sugar hit, the flavour, the indulgence – great! But the undercurrent is, sure, it’ll lead to tooth decay, obesity and so forth. It doesn’t mean one should avoid these things, it just means that there’s no avoiding consequences in life and that people’s tendency to divide into good/bad is just plain silly. Most things are both all the time.

A fair example is the work involved in creating things like one of these ‘Ten Of’ lists. Sure you say, it’s just listening to a bunch of music – it ain’t hard. True! And there’s a really deep pleasure involved in sinking so completely into someone’s work. I tend to find that listening to this much of one person’s music in a concerted way over a couple of weeks gives me an expanded awareness of the things they do that make the music theirs, what their techniques and approaches are, where they’re deviating, what makes this piece standout or that piece fit.

On the other hand, it’s not just listening. It’s hours of flicking back, re-listening, discarding notes and thoughts on one piece, thinking more about another. It emphasises that no one is so original that listening to their music so obsessively won’t kill the vibe or point out the bits where it’s a bit the same, or where they’re coasting. It means I can’t bring myself to listen to Carpenter’s latest just yet – I’ll need a break, time to cleanse the palette and digest.

It’s a constant sin of mine: I get into an artist, I hoover up music by them, then I need a pause before returning to them to really ‘get’ the individual joys of a particular record.



Thurston on Shelf

Sometimes it can feel like working in a void: the clear out of the book store industry, the increasing reality that niche books exist mainly via online retailers, there’s often a sense that the books I write – given my particular focus – only exist on my own shelf and among the people I’ve sent copies to myself.

That’s why it’s always warming when a friend or comrade sends me a picture of something I’ve done existing out in the world in a book store someplace. We Sing A New Language: The Oral Discography of Thurston Moore came out in the U.S. only about a month ago so good to see it’s about.

I saw a hilarious review on earlier which really made me chuckle! Sense of humour is a valuable thing in this world and this was glorious:

The problem with Sonic Youth LPs is that they sing on them. If they eliminated the vocals, they could have achieved 2nd level Dead C status (and that’s not a bad thing). The problem with Thurston Moore has always been that nobody in The History Of Rock has ever tried so hard to adopt a “cool” persona…and for the record his ex-wife Kim Gordon trails a close second. I used to see these two all the time around NYC and it was actually painful to see them “downtown” it up. On the other hand, Lee Ranaldo would come off in Washington Market Park as just a regular dad. I’m giving this book three stars for the simple reason I did not read it. If it was difficult seeing Thurston Moore in real life, why would I want to read a book about him? Three stars seems fair.”

It’s just one of those things: human lives move so fast that if you’re there at the start of something and therefore help forge the identity associated with it, then at some point ‘who you are’ becomes seen as a cliche or as a persona rather than as something original that you bequeathed to the world. Most people’s experience of this phenomenon is when their own kids look at them and sneer, roll their eyes or snigger at the idea that you were ever fresh, new, a clean sheet, an empty page starting to fill up with hasty scribbles. Being a star of one kind or another means seeing it play out across entire scenes and cities.

From my personal encounters with Thurston, from all the people I spoke to for the project (some 170 of his fellow performers), the person I met was every bit the enthusiast for life and culture he’s made about to be: 100% authentic and valiantly rare. I’ll admit I hope to retain that absence of cynicism and “seen it all before” some 30 years down the line. I got the same bright-eyed vibe when walking round the Tate Modern with Lee Ranaldo. There’s something about the generation that grew up in that moment of the NYC scene that doesn’t seem to get old…


I watch this and wonder if I’d be able to detect which song was being played purely from the drums without any further reference…Then I look at some of the isolated drum tracks present on YouTube and confess I often can’t see the overall track at all.


Caught this recently, the track ‘Salvation’ from Solar Twin’s new album Pink Noise. Lyrically there’s a lot going on, a musing on current state of music and world that’s worth following throughout. What hooked me the most, however, was the alliance of modern day pop music to the footage of Cobain in a heyday that passed some 29-to-23 years ago: genuinely an entire life time of separation. I couldn’t help but watch it and think when was the last time I saw a mainstream star genuinely acting out emotionally on stage to this extent? Sure, Cobain was aware of stage craft as anyone: seeing the impact smashing a guitar made in front of an audience in 1988 sparked a light bulb and so the reheated Who/Hendrix motif made it’s way through years of Nirvana’s live performances – but there was honesty shot through it at all times. Nirvana didn’t wreck their gear every night: it was a final ecstatic moment when happy or it was an expression of a pissed-off and rotten show – it could be both, it could be either, it was the emotion behind it that mattered. Something has definitely changed though because something so un-contrived, and that looks so right as oft-shaky handheld video footage, is rare at a time when every moment is made to be screened one way or another.