Category: Nirvana Maps and Locales

Finally! God bless Starbucks at SW Oak St/SW 4th Ave Portland (including Allison, Diana, Daniella and Mandy) for having decent WiFi service! Thank you guys – perfect service, hope the management knows you’re cool. A full day its taken me to get this uploaded. Phew. Now, let me confess to a serious error of judgment. A few months back I remember the articles about how Aberdeen, WA was considering removing the ‘Come as You Are’ sign outside of town — I thought it was just a case of local authorities drumming up interest and attention; It didn’t make sense to me, the idea of a town choosing to delete its most famous son.

It makes more sense now. I’m stunned how innocent I’ve been…A certain (small) portion of Aberdeen is genuinely embarrassed by an association with a man they see as a representative of drug culture and nihilism; regardless of the beauties of his art or the scale of his achievement, irrespective of how much inspiration and positivity was bestowed on people who came to love his music. I’d like to thank Mitch at this point for giving me a thorough and informed tour of the town — I couldn’t have been in better hands, he was there then, he’s here now, he knew Kurt and Krist personally and had a long standing friendship with Leland Cobain. If you’re ever thinking of heading to the area and you’re game to pay the man for his time and energies then I can totally recommend him to you. He’s a guardian of history, heritage and local memory.

My surprise arises from numerous sources, for example, there the statue of Kurt Cobain now located in a motor garage because the town wouldn’t accept it for the park. There is though a Cobain star on the sidewalk where he shares space with a guy who coached the U.S. soccer team for the Olympics and the inventor of the self-cleaning oven.

And the famous bridge under which Cobain spent time as a teenager, inspiration for the song Something in the Way? A gentleman called Tori Kovach, a man in his seventies who still saw the artistry and talent in the music of Kurt Cobain (albeit only loving the MTV Unplugged in New York performance) took personal responsibility for creating the memorial space and still takes the time day-by-day to clean and maintain it. Firstly, that’s a beautiful thing for a private individual to do, though he states plainly that a degree of support was provided by the town.

The ultimate expression for me though was how sad it was to see that the old shack at 1000 ½ East Second Street was demolished to leave a barren plot of waste-ground. It was on this site that the song Mrs. Butterworth from the With the Lights Out box-set was recorded and for mere pennies a place that lures many respectful and starry-eyed tourists to the furthest corner of the U.S. could have been purchased, maintained and turned into something of beauty. Instead it was torn down and left as a rutted piece of overgrown scrub.

I’m quite serious. THis is the site of 1000 1/2 East Second Street – sad isn’t it? Its hard to tell if this is just overzealous town-planning or a deliberate desire to erase Kurt Cobain from the history of Aberdeen. I mean, I was delighted to be able to stand on the exact spot where Cobain, Krist Novoselic and Aaron Burckhard recorded the song known as Mrs Butterworth (plus two other unreleased shreds) but still…Sad!

Aberdeen is a place with a few problems – perhaps this shouldn’t overshadow the good of the town but remember this was a very brief visit I made and my opinion based on a single day doesn’t add up to the totality of the place. I was still stunned though. I’ve never been to a town where a crystal-meth user got on the bus to town, body twitching and jolting, where I saw another couple as soon as I got off the bus, saw the lady from the bus again the next morning — and that’s not counting the number of alcoholics and visible homeless. The sheer quantity really did stand out; I’d already been surprised by the scale of the homeless situation in the Pacific North-West, I live in a city of ten million and still don’t quite see this many people in need – Aberdeen’s centre, given the scale of the town, seemed quite a magnet for this. Mitch showed me a photo of a doped-up guy naked on top of a Police car – hilarious but…No, hold on, I still think its hilarious. It explains Gillian G. Gaar’s mention of the guy arrested the other year in Aberdeen who kept protesting as he was carted off that he was Kurt Cobain.

On the other hand, it’s genuinely not an unpleasant place either, I’m not saying its an awful town – it isn’t! I was lucky catching it on a bright, sunny day — so hot my lengthy nose has burned — but the scenery all around is spectacular, the river and sea inlet lend that good vibe that always arises from proximity to waters, the town streets are clean and peaceful. It really did have a good vibe all day long – so quiet too, we drifted quite a distance round town, as you’ll see in subsequent posts, barely meeting a soul out among the houses. A very pleasant lady over by that Cobain address I mentioned earlier took the time to come out and tell us she still has photos of the place as it used to be – I always like it when strangers take the time to talk to me.

The town has a comfortable uniformity, mostly looking like the buildings are unchanged since the 1920s when a lot of the clapboard houses went up. On the other hand, those same features have their other side; the town streets are quiet because most of the main street is closed up shops. It did look like a town in a slump – this is not to overlook the truly wicked Star Wars shop, of course, the biggest collection of Star Wars I’ve ever seen and apparently a magnet for rich collectors. There’s a certain amount of Nirvana stuff tucked into one of the crammed corners of this place.

I was a bit surprised by the loan place, religious establishment and porn store sandwiched up next door to one another — it’s stood for me as a bit of a metaphor for that small minority who would refuse to celebrate one of the few spectacular lives to emerge locally then wonders why there’s not more ambition or spirit among its young. Oh, by the way, that’s the main street in Aberdeen I kid thee not!

There’s also that industrial edge to the place but not enough to keep the town in work and functioning smoothly – the logging activity is down to the bone so what the heck is left…?

As an example of that mood at work, the plaque by the bridge that Tori maintains, the town authorities took the time to come and demand he scrub the word ‘f*** from a Cobain quotation; yet it looks like its all on Tori to clear up the litter that people leave there. Whenever I mentioned, in Seattle, Tacoma, Olympia, that I was heading out to Aberdeen, people laughed, it seems to be seen as the scowling alcoholic in the corner everyone makes jokes about — but then, I’m kinda sure a more celebratory attitude and a warmer vibe to the place would really help. I’m sure someone’ll say that its about zero tolerance, about tough love, about self-reliance – frankly all three phrases are euphemisms for fighting the lazy n’ easy battles rather than having the courage or endurance to deal with the hard, complex and lengthy wars; lazy phrases that sound tough but are limp-wristed and lame in practice. It seems that the Cobain memorialisation work has been primarily a private endeavour.

To be fair, I can understand nervousness about Cobain. I was shocked that under the bridge some people are coming along cooking up heroin and leaving their needles there as a tribute to Cobain. The idea that anyone would look at the absolute decay in his productivity and creativity and decide the moral of the tale is to celebrate drugs is imbecilic in the extreme — almost awe-inspiringly stupid. There’s definite criticism to be made of the truly ignorant fans who would do this.

But that doesn’t justify attempts to tar ALL Nirvana fans with the same brush (anymore than what I write here is an attempt to get at ALL people from Aberdeen, that’d be ludicrous) – I’ve got two degrees from Cambridge University, have written and published one book, work at a homeless shelter one Saturday a month, love my family and have a desk job for a major corporation; does that make me too normal to be a true Nirvana fan? In the eyes of a certain portion of Aberdeen, fans like me who love the music, are inspired by the man, but don’t approve of all his actions, don’t exist.

It’s also a tragedy that instead of fans taking the time for true art of the kind their hero dedicated himself to, they’ve reverted to lunk-headed “I was ‘ere” graffiti that lends nothing to any legacy, not even respect. But then, some people will claim its all part of ‘anarchy’ and ‘punk values’…Strange. I look at the music of Nirvana and see energy under control, precisely deployed, practised in a dedicated manner, expressed with polish and poise…Not daubs. For perspective, I love good graffiti art – there’s so much street talent out there; I’d just like to see more of it. Again, its a fair reason to be dubious about drawing yet more people in.

The positive side is people like the guy we met just as we were leaving who had chosen to come spend a little time in contemplation there, or the Spanish family Mitch met once who flew all the way from Spain to scatter their son’s ashes into the River Wishkah simply because Cobain had meant so much to their son (he died in an auto-accident). Heck, my take on the Cobain story has always been that history doesn’t have to be written by the landed gentry, by the corporate elite, by those with money or power — you can be anyone, from anywhere, and if you put your all into it you can do something amazing whether or not anyone else knows it. Aberdeen, if it chose to formalise and live out that side of the Cobain message could be a true inspiration.

The local museum was good fun by the way — thanks to Dann for being such a pleasure to hang out with there. It’s fun being in a town so small that they can even tell which was the very first piano in town — that’s incredible to me, wonderful when the origin of an item such as that can be traced so readily to a marriage between founding families.

The old fire engines were fascinating too; the horse-drawn fire engine was still being used as late as 1944! There’ll be a music exhibit opening at the museum sometime in the near future focusing initially on the Melvins — that’ll be worth seeing. If you do go to Aberdeen do pop in and take a look at the town’s donated items and relics. I did history at uni so browsing old items tickles me. They even have a Mrs. Butterworth jar — ironic that it should become the town’s main monument to that lost song when there was once a tiny place just down the road that could have been so.

I was told a story while we were in the museum, that a family came from Germany to visit Kurt Cobain locations – parents, two kids, a respectable family. They decided, while here, that they should buy a Nirvana CD in Aberdeen so off they went to the major local supermarket and into the music section where the Nirvana section stood empty…They inquired about whether they had any Nirvana CDs in stock and were told “we don’t stock that crap.” They were stunned. The guys with me didn’t believe it so went back, got the manager, asked again, and received the precise same answer. Stunning… In fact the museum is the only place in town you can buy a Nirvana CD in Aberdeen – they had to order to a different state just to get a few copies of the Heavier than Heaven book.

I will say though, its easier to explain the more troubled aspects of Kurt Cobain having visited Aberdeen. Its understandable that the vibe of the town, the attitude of certain portions of it toward creative arts types let alone teenager trouble-makers and drug-users (which he was, no mistake) would not have been inviting or welcoming. Beyond the flippant point though he really is a local product; people want to see him as a representative of some kinda wooly drug-addled liberalism when this really is a guy who believes fervently in gun-ownership, who has no truck with ‘hippy types’ and who has a sexually puritan streak in him too. Heck, he marries his girlfriend when he gets her pregnant – the boy from the town that looks like 1950 ends up acting like he is too. Kurt Cobain is Aberdeen’s son no doubt about it. It explains a degree of his self-criticism too; not only does he come from a town that was clear it hated most of what he was, he was sharp enough to know that he exhibited a lot of the same traits as his critics. Just a shame he expressed this complexity in a dour self-destructiveness.

I’ll halt there. More Aberdeen touring tomorrow – I promise I had a GOOD TIME!!! I’m sorry it turned into a bit of a rant but… My thinking is always the same; wishing away the downsides of something just makes one look like a liar, like a child who can’t stand scary stories so still reads kids’ books at age thirty in a pretence that real life isn’t more complex than good/bad, nice/nasty.

It’d be nice to come back see the city had seized control of Kurt Cobain’s story in Aberdeen; it would give the town the chance to speak and show that there was a lot of good to it — to speak more of the creativity and hard work and positive small town values that took Cobain to the pinnacle of world fame. A proper Cobain exhibit in the museum, a Cobain walking tour making use of the excellent presenting skills and long memory of a number of local residents, a small driving tour and more information online about how to do it, a touch of care and TLC to the places of interest and reinforcement of Tori’s efforts — the authorities in Aberdeen could be true neighbours. I’m serious that something as minimal as the ‘blue plaque’ scheme that operates in London to identify properties of significance could draw attention to the town’s legacy. If the town doesn’t want to attract troubled souls, if it wants to attract a higher-class of tourist, more trade for local restaurants and motels, more chances for local work for local people, mothers and fathers bringing their kids to check out the place where their own childhood hero lived, then the town needs to pick a strategy that isn’t about telling those tourists to piss off. I didn’t see much that was about official efforts rather than local enthusiasts. Both have their place but more of the former would give the community as a whole greater control.

Similarly, it’d show people locally that regardless of their sins and flaws, the city will live out Christian values by leaving God to do the judging. It would show people that they would be supported and celebrated for the good they do, rather than excoriated and spoken of only in terms of the worst they can be — maybe it’d be a more spirited message to present to the young of a town where there are few jobs and a few problems. I’ve taken out an over-dramatic end line here, I was wrong, it was writing for impact not reality so I’d rather show it by formally saying that a line had vanished in the reediting; I would go back to Aberdeen. And at its best it was a pretty place; for a Nirvana fan it’s a must-see place once in your life.

I’m not quite done with Tacoma. I mean, for a start, I wanted to put up just the one photo of the Tacoma Dome. Beyond being the location for a number of shows the Nirvana boys attended, its other claim to Nirvana tale fame comes from the link to the song Polly — Gerald Friend abducted his victim after a show here, grim. Hence, only one photo and a desire to focus on perkier things…

Bob and John drove me round to the former location of Legends. Back in late 1989 John had been chatting on with Kurt and they decided it would be cool to have a show featuring Machine and Nirvana together. Ryan (photogenic gentleman kneeling with the dog in yesterday’s photo) designed the well-known flyer for the January 20, 1990 show at Legends — label/management involvement is how Tad ended up tucked into the running order.

It’s nice they’ve preserved the exterior of the building — it’s a classy style — but the exterior has become, yes, you’ve guessed it; a car park. It’s another thing that unites the U.S. and U.K., the tendency to slam tarmac down over everything — I’m sure I’m paraphrasing from somewhere “they took culture and built a car park over it.” John recalls the upper floors being used by various gangs with access via the back windows. He even lived there at one point with a friend for a few nights when life had taken an unsteady turn. The other photo here is the bricked in and painted over entrance to the backstage areas where the bands loaded and unloaded their gear.

Now, as ever, anything placed online will always end up snatched and gone before one has a chance to blink. Well, a strong desire to be respectful here and preserve privacy for those kind enough to show me a number of items of their private property. I used to live in a town called St Neots it’s in Huntingdonshire; claims to fame? A fellow who shot the British prime minister on May 11, 1812, the only British Prime Minister to be assassinated, came from St Neots. Funnily enough, his name was John Bellingham (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Bellingham) — Bellingham being a town up the road here in State of Washington (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bellingham,_Washington) where Nirvana played in 1992 — isn’t the world full of great coincidences? There was also a small skirmish during the English Civil War and there’s a rumoured ghost of a Cavalier stood looking out the ground floor bathroom windows to watch over the river for the approaching Roundheads. The story of greatest relevance here, however, is that there was a Priory on the site of the present-day Priory Park dedicated to Saint Neot. There’s another Saint Neots (take a read, and let’s be fair, he’s one of the less impressive saints… http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St_Neot,_Cornwall ), however, down in Cornwall and they claimed to have relics of said saint. The only way I can describe it is that a crack commando unit of monks was dispatched from Huntingdonshire all the way across the country to Cornwall where they launched a raid on the religious establishments there, stole whatever they could and dashed back home — a less-virtuous A-Team of religious fervour.

Why am I telling you this except for my enjoyment of the tale? Well, its an indication of the hysterical reaction to religious relics back then. Items said to belong to, to have been worn by, to be from the body of a sacred individual were venerated, stolen, traded, acquired by royalty and full pilgrimages were launched across national borders to visit them. When viewing the items below I had to snigger from my faint sense of absurdity; it’s more or less what I’ve done here.

John brought out items sent to him by Kurt Cobain. They’re kept securely in an undisclosed location of course and frankly they’re not historical items, they’re things given to him by a dear friend who died — they deserve to be treated with that reverence and care, as if they were leftovers from one of your own dead loved ones.

This is John’s copy of the Love Buzz/Big Cheese single accompanied by Kurt’s note saying how pleased he is to have it out, poking fun at his band and simultaneously saying he’s a little disappointed by it only being a run of 1,000 copies. I’ve half covered it with a shot of King Buzzo to ensure it can’t just be copied and faked.

Brilliantly John’s dad even managed to keep the packaging in which Kurt (Kurdt) sent it to John back in 1988; a bit smudged, smeared and grimy but there it is – 25 year old some-day-superstar mailing.

These two photos do exactly what they say on the tin; one is the copy Kurt made for John of the January 23, 1988 demo session, the other is the copy of the Bleach sessions. John says that Krist told him in 1992 that they had been worried for a time that John’s battered old cassette was the only copy left of Big Long Now until they finally learned that the master was in Jack Endino’s possession.

There’s also the last note Kurt wrote to John in late 1993 backstage at a show – the last time they saw one another. I didn’t photograph it. Tracy Marander also gave John prints of a number of her photos of Kurt, you’ll see the date on all of them plus her record of when she took them. Here’s a couple, again, I just cut them off if they were already well known shots…

We’ll leave it there I guess…Other shots of Tacoma? Ooooo…Let’s see…

Couple more shots of the port…

This is the old fort up at Point Defiance…

This is wicked graffitti posted in honour (and to amuse) my dear little sister Sophie who is presently occupying my rooom back in London while I’m away and having a well-deserved break. She’s the artistic one among we four siblings…

And this…Is a pretty fish.

When I go on holiday it’s easiest taking pictures of the things that don’t move. What I’ve realized, however, is that I soon forget those things, the images don’t remain in my head. What remains is memories of people and their actions, words, or simple presence. It’s always the same, however spectacular the objects around me may look, it’s the stories that arise when people arrive that makes for the things I’ll speak of when I’m an old man.

I mentioned serendipity the other day, there are moments when life sets the path and all you need to do is follow — strange things just happen and everything clunks into place. In this case, I was just going to stroll the north-west, take some pretty pictures and roll on home. Instead, people have helped find me people and all these people are making this a spectacular holiday. A gentleman called Brian Naubert, formerly of a band called Yellow Snow who played with Nirvana at the Community World Theater in 1987 kindly told me “when you’re in Tacoma there’s someone you should meet…” He put me in touch with Mr. John Purkey, formerly of Machine, formerly of Noxious Fumes, formerly of a whole bunch of bands I wasn’t quick enough to note down, currently of Sky Blue Eye, Sleeper Cell (Tacoma) plus one other I can’t recall! Darn.

John was kind enough to invite me to his home, sit me down and just talk to me about Tacoma back in the late Eighties-early Nineties while sharing with me the items given to him by Kurt. Yes, I mean that Kurt — John attended most of the early shows under Nirvana’s various early identities, witnessed the shifts from Aaron, to Dale, to Dave, to Chad and to this day recalls being overawed by this band and this voice…Ryan L. joined us with his deeply patient daughter, poor kid is only three-or-four and had to sit listening to people talk about things that happened before she was born. Ryan said it straight, that John used to arrive at school raving about this band and when Kurt did him a copy of the January 1988 studio session John brought it in and everyone’s eyes opened wide as they heard how good this band was.

As an aside, recall that Cobain line “disease covered Puget Sound”…? I mentioned how looking over the port area and its mass of funnels and factories I felt I understood the line better, that Cobain wasn’t working in metaphor, he was simply reporting the truth. John did me one better and explained that in the early Nineties a particular smelter was pouring cyanide over the residential areas around Puget Sound and ultimately the resident sued and won compensation from the city. So! That’s one line that makes more sense now.

My desire with whatever I’ve ever done on this Nirvana trip I seem to be on has been to be respectful of people’s privacy and to remember these are real people talking about their friend not some abstract guy in a book. So, at this point I can only thank John for being willing to show me the remnants of what Kurt shared with him, and also to bow respectfully and say how impressed I was by the depth of emotion he displayed; a true man and true friend.

My time in Tacoma was rapidly become the trip’s highlight so far. A long and winding coffee break with a fascinating lady called Bernie — personal assistant to Mike McCready, retired therapist, thriftstore owner, antique store owner, general all round deep soul (a further thank you to Bernie for spending time with me and to the deeply cool Madame Abby for putting us in touch) — filled a lunchtime with tales of Cobain and others arriving to buy old clothing and the levels of pain some people in the scene were carrying almost openly on display at all times.

This is when kindness took another turn; John returned with Bob, drummer for Sleeper Cell and the man with the most mellow gold smile imaginable.

Of course they arrived in a limousine, the plush leather backseat is a fond memory already. We all headed over to join Pat, former singer of Yellow Snow, present-day bassist and vocalist for Sleeper Cell. Chat, beer, a browse round a real ‘man garage’ including horrifying childhood haircut photos and tales of musically talented families…

…And suddenly I was invited to an impromptu Sleeper Cell performance in the basement. These guys have been at this game so long, they took every element so seriously, I watched them running round for twenty minutes tracking down gear, replacing a string, tuning up, checking setting, preparing gear — it’s just a practice yet these guys put in the kind of sweat I’d imagine comes for a full performance. Instead it was just me, with my feet up on a beam, beer in hand, being persuaded gently that sitting directly in front of a number of the speakers was possibly going to be a dangerous idea…

…It was an honour to lose a little bit of hearing to these guys. I felt a complete dork trying to say “you were really good”…I tried anyway and yeah, it sounded gawky and awkward, but true. I’ve had a song called Dharma running round my head a while now — Pat and John harmonise on the vocals throughout, the whole song heaves itself between meditation and rock-out seamlessly, it’s a really great song that I hope gets out into the world. Having reduced me to eyes closed rocking on the spot they still had the modesty to close and say “not bad, we’re a bit rusty.” This was rusty…?!

Following this we had a long talk about Nirvana days, about long-ago shows and life in Tacoma. It’s a nice town, a little hard given its dependence on the port and the influence of the massive military base up the road which floods it with current-and-former servicemen, but there’s enough life to it, a few jobs and certainly enough bands. I looked again at the list of the bands Nirvana played with in 1987 and its clear these aren’t just North-West bands, this is a slew of Tacoma bands specifically; Inspector Luv, Yellow Snow, Soylent Green, Silent Treatment.

The night dissolved into food and beer and Ryan, Pat and Bob improvising around the massive organ in Ryan’s basement — I ended up staying over with Ryan and his partner Rochelle (plus the dogs) — another couple, Mike and Sally, hearing about my levels of Nirvana-lunacy were even sweet enough to dash back to their house solely to pick up their copy of the Nirvana/Jesus Lizard split single, a bona-fide original from 1993! Amazing. It’s one of the few Nirvana releases I’ve never purchased because in the late nineties there were so many copies around I was positive it was being churned out and that I had no chance of proving I was getting a first edition. Now I do, all because two people decided I’d love to have it — they’re so right. I’m thrilled. So much so I insisted they all sign it, I want it clear this means as much to me because they passed it on as it does because of what it is.

Now, to correct a false impression, though the port area of Tacoma isn’t exactly pretty, there’s a whole lot making up for it. In Britain, frankly, our ‘nature’ is simply the bits in between the housing, roads and railways; Britain has lost 90% of its forest cover in the last 2,000 years. That isn’t a problem in State of Washington despite the best efforts of the logging industry. I was driven out to the truly awesome Point Defiance Park, acre upon acre of woodland and trails with a view out over the water. Breathe it in urban dwellers…This is something else…

The city itself too is not devoid of beauty, they’ve made a real effort and the steep roads in the downtown area do give it interest. I do recommend that you don’t do something like my crazy attempt to walk from 541 to 5441 South M Street at dusk/nightfall…I kinda stopped taking photos once I got to the point I was waving a camera around a darkened road in a city I didn’t know but before that there were a few cool images of the surburban landscape:

So. There ended my trip to Tacoma. My hangover was righteously earned thanks to Ryan’s stellar homebrew and I had a great sense of how good a town this is if you know the right people; John, Ryan, Pat, Bob, Rochelle, Sally, Mike, Bernie and Abby — thank you! Oh, except I’ve had the Yellow Snow Theme Song running round in my head ever since and the only way to drown it out is to recite the Dharma riff, over and over like a Buddhist mantra…

Next step tomorrow…? Should I tell you about my trip to Aberdeen, Hoquiam, Raymond…?

Its become customary to begin these posts by telling you guys my latest boob…Well, last night, I was a little tired and so successfully wrote down 541 South M Street rather than 5441 South M Street. The difference? Many many miles and an awful lot of city blocks. Today I paid a taxi driver from Kenya £30 to drive me out from downtown Tacoma and back again…Last night, on the other hand, I walked out by twilight and walked out by fear n’ moonlight after 2 1/2 – 3 hours lost as hell. I mean, technically, OK, it was all along one road but in reality single roads look a lot further when you’ve no idea where you are and you’ve never been someplace before.

Well, I did better this AM. I walked out…And surrendered. Taxi. Taxi is the way to do it. And I was in luck too, they were conducting a service at the present day location of the Community World Theater and permitted me to come in and take a couple of quick photos of the place. Doesn’t it look so recognisable?

It’s hard to explain this to people but I’ll try. I’ve seen photos of the Community World Theater since I was 13 years old, over two decades ago. Yet this is a real location, a barely notable building on a street that I can’t even fathom how far it is from the centre. And inside, the place has barely changed, look at it, see the short stage, the minimal space? I could have paced it out from front to back from side-to-side as 30 paces front, 20 paces side-to-side and it tapers too, wider at the back. Its that weird mystique of looking somewhere and realising I’m not sure it isn’t the exact same speaker set up, mic set up, stage set-up it was 25 years ago when, for a full year, this was the single most important location in the existence of Nirvana.

Nirvana only lived for seven years, count it out – March 1987 to March 1994 – and for a remarkable extent this single room saw the evolution of Nirvana from another hopeful set of enthusiastic amateurs to, at least, an outfit with a label willing to get them out on vinyl. That still isn’t a huge distance, recall this was a time when a lot of go-nowhere bands managed a 7″ or an EP someplace or other. Yet this still makes the Tacoma Community World Theater a place of genuine significance in the history of Nirvana; the place they started to learn stagecraft, the place they started to learn to be a band. If you listen to side B of Incesticide, if you add on the couple songs on With the Lights Out plus the holdovers to Bleach, then what you’re hearing is a 1987 Nirvana album that died upon contact with Sub Pop, you’re hearing what came before.

Anyways, ladies and gentlemen, this is the Community World Theater and this is the present-day interior of the building (with huge thank yous to the present day proprietors who were trying to run a service as I bowled in). Enjoy. And remember magic comes from the everyday.

It had to be done, though I consider the house in Olympia to be a more celebratory and beautiful element of the Nirvana story, there’s still no way to observe a tale without acknowledging its ending.

Nothing much more to add essentially. This is a beautiful upscale suburban neighbourhood, quiet roads at 9-10am in the morning on a Saturday, greenery and foliage dividing property from property and streets from streets or screening curves in the street. Twenty paces away there’s a parking area with a view out over the waters of Lake Washington, on a clear day you can see Mt. Rainier and its snow cap. There’s no number on the house, I can understand them removing it if it was ever there, it took a few passes to confirm the location was correct but essentially the water-side properties are even numbers, the opposite side of the road is all odd numbers. Its a beautiful looking home, not something I think I’d appreciated before given the standard context in which the house is viewed. On a good day I’m sure its stunning. Definitely millionaire territory, that was so clear that we were in the land of rich people; this isn’t a criticism, merely an observation and one I’m fairly sure Cobain would have been aware of and probably uncomfortable given he never gives off the sense of a man steeped in luxuries – this is the guy who sold off the Lexus Courtney Love purchased because he thought it was too ostentatious.

The loneliness of the property compared to the urban territories of more central Seattle or even of the suburbs with the board houses with lawns, that did strike me. With the tree coverage up and down the street at night it’d be near impossible to see people outside the property; similarly, anything going on in the gardens or yard of the property is concealed by the gates and wouldn’t be visible anyways except to one, at most two properties situated opposite. A procession of taxis could arrive and leave without the neighbours ever noticing or having cause to give a hoot. On the other hand, the peace of the neighbourhood makes me realise how noise would travel and disturbances to the peace would register.

I once stood on the spot in London where Guy Fawkes co-conspirators were hung, then cut down just as they were reaching their last breath, then resusitated sufficiently to be able to feel it as a red-hot blade opened them up from neck to navel in order to draw out their innards with the crucial point being to show each victim his own heart before he died at which point the body would be quartered and despatched to different regions of the Kingdom as a warning. It did enthrall me to tie a locale to a moment in time and of course I was interested. I’d say the same of this little visitation, to turn a place I’ve only ever seen in pictures into somewhere real and tangible, that makes a difference. Plucking somewhere from imaginary space and assigning it a reality feels a positive thing – if I didn’t believe that observing, exploring and where possible trying to contact the past made a difference to perception of life I wouldn’t have done history at uni.

That isn’t the same as a place like this evoking a vast emotional force within me. What makes the most substantial difference to me is, and I hope will always be, the feelings and emotions in peoples’ faces and voices. 171 Lake Washington Boulevard is a pleasant looking house in which people are making their lives. I did my best to keep disturbance to a minimum and roamed onward.

In yesterday afternoon’s goofball moments I head-butted the counter in a Starbucks. I was reaching for a sandwich and miscalculated where the curved glass screen covering the pastries was. Classy first impression at the nearest store. It’s alright though, there were only about twenty people in the queue, twenty seated, plus seven staff. And the thud (plus the colourful English phrases that followed) was only audible over three-quarters of the store. I’m also being good about not jaywalking given a kindly pedestrian told me that a Seattle cop ‘tackled’ a tourist the other year to stop them doing it. I’m fragile, I’ll stick to official road-crossings and not risk it.

OK, this is rumour control. Contrary to popular belief, America is no different from the U.K. when it comes to the necessity or otherwise of motor transport. If one lives and works within a U.S. city then it’s possible to get to and from work via public transport or on foot — I live in London, I had a car in London for six months in 2004 and it was used so rarely the battery used to run out. If one lives outside of a major urban area then a car becomes essential but that’s no different to the U.K., London is one of the few cities where a car may even count as more a handicap than an advantage given the crowded road networks, inconvenient medieval street patterns, absence of reasonably priced parking and highly effective enforcement of fines for absolutely everything.

The grid system within U.S. cities makes them ideal for walking; so long as one has a map for reassurance its usually a snap to know where one is and to keep track of progress between destinations. I’d say having destinations, way-stations, checkpoints, things to aim for is essential — the problem with long straight roads is they can feel thankless and unforgiving. I hear driving through cornfields in parts of the U.S. mid-west has the same feel; the initial thrill of the new gives way to mile-on-mile of not much changing. Walking, to a lesser extent, can feel the same if one has a set and undeviating route; some kinda victory is needed to buoy the spirits!

A disclaimer. The maps above are one suggestion for walking the Nirvana-related parts of Seattle that lie beyond the Washington Ship Canal and related waterways and yet these maps are not the whole truth. A truthful map would show me spannering about looping round the same block two or three times to check it’s definitely where I think it is; it would show stubbed toes and pavement trips happening with such regularity I started to worry I was developing some kinda lazy dragging clubfoot in the style of Joseph Goebbels; it would show me wading all the way down University Way NE before realizing I’d made a mistake in terms of where I’d drawn the biro dot on my paper map. Add to that some indecision, a few more double-checks and we’d be good.

So, let’s get the logistics cleared up. I’m using the Paramount Hotel as my base station for this for obvious reasons and because it’s pretty darn dead centre of Nirvana sights. Head straight up 7th Ave until you hit Stewart St, right turn along Stewart and you’ll hit the former site of the Motor Sports International Garage at the corner of Stewart and Yale.

Remember, walking in the footsteps of one’s heroes does not mean a procession of glorious monuments and in the case of this walking tour, its especially true. What you’re looking at is a more special reality, that magic shouldn’t need to be crowned with a totemic monument, a Windsor Castle, Sphinx or golden statue rotating toward the sun. The things you love in life will never be special to most other people or in the same way to anyone; cherish those things and celebrate them regardless because what you love is as important as anything a wider culture chooses to mark in stone or metal. In this case, that special 1990 show was played out here:

Next, keep going along Stewart until you see the ramp cutting down off the I-5 highway. Looking across Stewart, back slightly, you’ll see there’s a nondescript little road cutting back toward and running underneath the bridge over the I-5. Walk down that road and the only address you’ll find is that of The Off Ramp Café at 109 Eastlake Ave E. Still in service as a club you’ll be able to head in and look around on nights where there’s someone playing:

Now you’re in for some walking…I headed up Denny Way until I hit Westlake Ave N. Do as I say — which is just follow that road all the way north to the bridges — rather than what I did — which was to dash merrily into the street bound by Taylor Ave, Roy St, Boston St and Queen Anne Ave — which served no purpose whatsoever I’d like to add. Cross under the bridge carrying Aurora Ave and you’ll come to the Fremont Bridge. Cross it and turn left onto Fremont Place N which kinks and turns into N 36th Street which, in turn, becomes Leary Way NW.

You’ll have earned a treat so keep counting down the blocks until you hit an unassuming yet distinctive gray wedge-shaped shack at the fork for 6th Ave; the number on the door tells you this is 4230 Leary Way NW and yes, as a discerning fan of Nirvana you know this is Reciprocal Studios, this is Word of Mouth Productions and this is where more Nirvana sessions took place than at any other venue.

And yes, its such an innocuous place, an oddity too for sure. It’s now a private recording facility these days for Chris Walla from Death Cab for Cutie but still functioning. I paced out the building, 19 steps along each side, a mere four foot across the door. Isn’t it kinda wicked that great things can stem from what is basically a barely visible shed in the middle of a suburb? There’s nothing to stop achievements happening anywhere if people want them to happen. Just to sour the record, of course terrible things can happen anywhere too.

Up to you what comes next. I retraced my steps and romped up 3rd Ave NW before turning onto NW 46th St which ends in a stairway leading to a stairway breaking and turning into a stairway all of which brings you out on the intersection of N Market St and N 46th St. Smooth sailing from here, just a regular straight line now straight down N 46th with you barely blinking as it becomes first N Midvale Pl., then N 45th St.

Number 811 NE 45th is your next destination, former site of the Beehive music store, now hosting a supermarket (807), pet grooming salon (still 807), then an Apple store (the MAC store) which claims to be number 809. There is no number 811, I went round the building and as far as I can tell what’s happened is the combination of 807 and 809 into a single business deleted one number from the chain thus nudging the next number from 811 down to 809.

Doesn’t look like much now but remember, that gig was just an in-store promotion, we’re not talking proms in the Royal Albert Hall, we’re talking a commercial premise giving floor space to an up-and-coming outfit. Can you imagine it? Traffic visible through the glass, everyone hemmed into whatever space wasn’t taken up by units, band playing about a foot away from your face…Oh, and the building does still have some quite impressive graffitti all along the side:

Keep walking along NE 45th St, not far, you’re banging through these now. Halt at the corner of University Way NE and take a left. There’s an Urban Outfitters across the street now, there’s an innocuous door alongside it numbered 4518 University Way NE. You made it; the Underground.

Seriously though? What could I possibly have expected to see here…? It’s underground…What I did think of though was Jesse Bernstein. Geoff Robinson from Blood Circus made a point on email of saying how much he admired Jesse and how saddened he was by his death – that this was another underground legend, a guy with a thousand ideas for creativity refusing to let anything stop him ploughing his own path. So I stood here, ignoring the corporate store front and thinking about someone who didn’t die a superstar. Most of us won’t be superstars but that doesn’t mean we can’t be extraordinary. Damn, I’m such a hippy, or a corporate slogan writer depending on your perspective…Ugh…

Back onto NE 45th St, head into the University premises via Memorial Way simply because it’s the most formal and impressive entrance. I paused here and had another of those small epiphanies of difference/similarity.

There are elements that the world in general associates with America and believes the nation obsesses over, yet every country has those core elements. Here on the gateway to the university there’s a memorial to the war dead of the First World War. It’s the only war memorial I’ve seen out here in this relatively unscathed piece of the U.S. Yet, in Britain, every town, most villages, a fair few hamlets that a passing motorist might barely glimpse a blur of before emerging beyond, they all carry their plaques, statues, pedestals, podiums recalling that war. The British are portrayed sometimes as the nation that can’t get over the world wars but these wars formed the largest mass horror to afflict us during this past century; the first time in history that sound penetrated the barrier formed by the channel and the south coast could hear the guns turning the soil of France, the first time our civilian population had been directly assaulted in many hundreds of years. The First World War dug a hole in the population of Britain that by the Second World War we still hadn’t recouped; the Second World War built our own creed of exceptionalism and separateness that we haven’t relinquished even as all other relics of what we were at that time have vanished.

Universities clearly all have stellar architects and garden designers because this place is gorgeous…Turn off Memorial Way onto Stevens Way and follow it round to the South. Eventually you’ll find the Husky Union Building — in the U.K. we’d just call it the Student Union but this one is indeed the ‘H.U.B.’ I had to do some further research on this, the building was substantially refurbished and remodelled between 2010-2012 so it isn’t precisely what you’d be looking at in 1989…Sometime when I have more time I’m going to recheck the floorplans to make sure whether or not the area Nirvana played in is even there, I may email the University and see if someone knows…http://hub.washington.edu/floorplans

Time to get out. Follow NE Pacific Street then, when you reach the bridge you’ll need to cut back north up a path and onto a stairway that takes you up onto University Bridge. This becomes a fairly simple walk, Harvard Ave E for a time, kink to your left along E. Roanoke St and then south down 10th Ave E. which turns into Broadway Ave. If you enjoy looking at houses then this’ll entertain you, if you don’t then this is where tedium will set in. Keep pushing, find something you want to see that’s worth heading on down that road…Or of course you could just take the plentiful buses or trolley buses or even just get a cab…I mean, in actual fact there’s no reason to walk this whatsoever apart from the pleasure of walking and the challenge of do it for oneself…I just found it scarier to work out the public transport network than to keep marching mindlessly toward oblivion…

My choice for a final stop was to hit two on one block; 1516 11th Ave, former site of The Vogue club and then further down the same street the Annex Theater entrance numbered as 1100 East Pike St. Again, these are still functioning venues so feel free to walk through the doors and take a look. I believe there’s been some renumbering going on as the visible club venue is number 1514…

From here it’s all easy enough, either head straight up E. Pine St back to The Paramount or you’ll see the dotted line out toward Lake Washington Boulevard 171. Your call. I’ll leave the central Seattle sites/sights for another day but I’m very sure that its possible to do today’s sights plus most of the central Seattle venues in one day. The outliers are the house at 11301 Lakeside Avenue, 171 Lake Washington Boulevard East plus the two sites of the Center on Contemporary Art…Another day…

Any big thoughts? It makes the stars look normal, reachable, when the magazine images and twenty years of hoopla is brought down to bricks-and-mortar reality. That’s a comfort. I mean, be honest with yourself, to the world-at-large Nirvana is just another band, another product but to you its something special. And that’s the point, the tour isn’t about observing magic, it’s about indulging one’s own love of something that matters and is as significant to you as your favourite memories. You wouldn’t be a Nirvana fan twenty years after the fact if it didn’t matter. And yes, the buildings change, disappear, get remodeled and spruced up until they don’t look like what they were but it doesn’t stop it being a pleasure to walk the streets with Nirvana.

Just while I’m making obscure references, all of you, everyone, seriously, you need to check out Urusei Yatsura. They’re one of those bands who should have been huge and never were — Scottish origins, pop sugar rush with a noisy lime slice to give it that gin n’ tonic tang. Try Hello Tiger as square one, then anything from the Yon Kyoku Iri EP.

Anyways, there are only two locations that I felt made sense if I was to do this tour of Seattle; one was to stay at the Four Seasons where Kurt n’ Courtney spent a chunk of 1992 in blissed out semi-consciousness but it’s ludicrously expensive…The other was at The Paramount Hotel from which I can see The Paramount Theatre.

I’m in luck too, The Weeknd is playing next week, think I better take a shot at catching that one. Yes, I admit it, I like The Weeknd — musically the best thing I heard last year, but best not to catch the lyrics usually given the appallingly retarded gender politics, I still find it scary that the idea of treating people as real human beings and with the same respect one would deserve for oneself seems to have no place in an awful lot of culture. Anyways, the Paramount, beautiful old building, reliefs in stone on the outer walls, gorgeous embellishments. On Saturday AM they do the first Saturday of the month tour of the interior and I’m going to get there for that. Heck, I’m 30 metres down the road, I’d feel like such a lazy bum if I failed.

Of course it’s been raining, the nice thing about Seattle is it really is similar to London in terms of its climate — I don’t have to change wardrobes for once. Normally when I’ve arrived in the U.S. I’ve always discovered I’m overdressed and that a predilection for wearing black is a recipe for excessive heat and clinging clothing — I was reminded of this experience during a brief halt at Charlotte on the way where I also failed to remember to switch the Clinique face scrub I’d purchased at Heathrow airport to my hold luggage before re-checking it…Darn…£30 of toiletries handed in to U.S. customs security staff…Yes, it’s OK, I feel dumb. I also forgot what my case looked like so watched it go round twice (OK, OK, I admit it, probably three or four times) before twigging it might be mine.

Popped into a corner shop here partly to buy an umbrella — yes, I forgot to bring one, shows you how well-prepared I was for this trip, my favourite jeans hadn’t finished drying so I took them wet so I’ve had to submit them to housekeeping for laundry service because they smell like pond slime after hours moldering in my case — but also because they still had their Sub Pop 25th Anniversary Silver Jubilee festival poster up…So they were kind enough to let me take it. More specifically I’d like to thank Clayton! A gentleman actually from England originally, his parents opened a record shop over here in Seattle with a recording studio (46 track) below it.

A brief conversation, Clayton recalls that his parent’s record store was opposite The Underground, one of the Seattle venues Nirvana played in their early days and venue for the Sub Pop 200 record release party in 1988. Hanging out there sometime over winter 1993-1994 one of the guys running the venue asked him to give someone a lift to a club called Rock Candy; “a heavy kinda place where people went to get ‘things’…” The someone was Kurt Cobain and Clayton remembers a strange journey “he sat in the car with me and said barely anything the whole ride, one or two words tops. In the club I’d seen him just standing off to the side watching everything, not talking to anyone, not doing anything.” These are my words recalled from our brief conversation so I’ll probably ask Clayton to correct me and I’ll update.
Next on the Nick agenda having acquired by flyer and an impromptu (and enjoyable) chat? Marking up my Rand McNally map and heading out again…

…Oh, did I mention my geeky collection of Starbucks cards? I’ve got 40-50 back home plus various limited edition wallets, a knitted sleeve, key ring, etc. I know. Geeky. Being in the U.S. is just an excuse to get hold of more…Oh my corporately owned taste buds…

Impressions from the flight last night? The sound of a child crying is among the most genetically effective communiqués, impossible to ignore, it’s tuned so perfectly to sound like pain and to make any onlooker’s soul twitch. I felt sorry for the child behind me, a 4-5 hour ride from Charlotte to Seattle, on top of whatever travel time had already been endured, was hard for an adult let alone for a three-year-old. The trick with sounds that disturb the ear is to dissect them, to turn them into something academic, or simply a deeper experience — the annoyance declines, calm is restored. She buried real words in her sounds but each was drawn out beyond the bounds of comprehension, like a soul singer wringing one of those multi-octave emotions, all that was left were syllables blending seamlessly into giggly hiccups of breath, nameless wails of unfathomable and incomprehensibly deep anguish, high toned peaks blurring as she tried to dredge up tears in that unreal young way, all reverting back to threaded screams that tore the cabin up ending only with the need to gulp for air.
All ended by her father and mother’s valiant ability to distract her momentarily. The Cloudbursts passed as suddenly as they’d arrived. Gone.

No prizes for guessing where I am or why I’ve been putting up these maps of State of Washington Nirvana-related locations the past few weeks. This is all thanks to an email from a gentleman in Indianapolis. I was sat considering summer holiday plans (really just wanted to get away and write) and in the midst of it received a message that simply said how much they enjoyed the book I wrote and asked if I’d ever been over this side of things. He pointed out that it was quite a distance for him but he’d made it up last year and had a great time seeing this side of the United States…So…I thought about it…And I told far too many people I was thinking about it…And I hate saying things and not doing them…So I went and booked and here I am.

Incidentally, technically speaking, I think the tour starts tomorrow. My excuse is that I set out from home at the equivalent of 11.30pm last night Seattle time and its 20.30 Seattle time now. And I just arrived at my hotel straight from the airport. I’m a lil’ teeny tiny bit sleepy…Just a little…

So! I bid you good night. One side bar – Americans are absolutely lovely. The crew on U.S. Airlines, both flights, were delightful throughout, it’s so different to the norm in Britain to deal with people who are genuinely interested, who ask questions, who engage with you as a human not just consumer/customer/process. The Americans kick the ass of any nation in Europe on that front.

Really, there are only three locations of utter significance to the Nirvana story; Aberdeen, Seattle AND Olympia. While Aberdeen/Hoquiam was the birthplace and halcyon origin of our ‘hero’ and Seattle the location that witnessed his demise, it was Olympia in which he found his only true home in adulthood:

As described before, 114 Pear Street (two flats therein) was the first stable home Kurt Cobain had after a lengthy period of youthful nomadism and even genuine homelessness; from the age of fifteen until he hit twenty years old he never spent a full year at any one address. Pear Street, by contrast and happy coincidence, served as his home from the time Nirvana commenced properly in spring 1987 until just before the Nevermind ball rolled down the hill in July 1991 – the only home he lived in longer was 1210 E. First Street, Aberdeen a phase which ended at his parents’ divorce. This is the true place of pilgrimage for Nirvana fans; this one building saw over 75% of Cobain’s song writing take place – it may be higher: https://nirvana-legacy.com/2013/01/30/four-walls-and-what-was-made/

This one location alone makes Olympia a worthy visitation…But, and this is an argument, in essence, Nirvana were always an Olympia band. Until the band exploded it was Olympia where Krist lived, where Kurt lived, where the band’s friends like Slim Moon lived, where K Records resided, where Kill Rock Stars resided, where so many of the band’s gigs took place. Seattle dominates because Sub Pop came to own the narrative of grunge and because Nirvana retreated there after fame when all eyes were on them. Prior to that, this was a solid Olympia band in ethos as well as home.

I admit though, the map doesn’t show too many places worthy of a visit. I’ve accidentally skipped Rignall Hall on 8131 Urquhart Rd NW plus the North Shore Surf Club on 5th Avenue. That still makes it the number two location in the world, behind Seattle, for Nirvana related sights.