Well, if you really dig deep — and squint between the cracks — you’ll recall the “grunge” era. It didn’t last long, maybe two to three years at best, but it happened. Thanks to the media’s liberal practice of labeling, the socially engaging and musically thriving scene of the Pacific-Northwest was referred to as the “grunge scene.” So, despite the scoffs and disgust of “those in the know,” that’s what fans and journalists alike have come to call the music… “grunge.”
The thing is, it really can’t be lumped into a genre. Does Alice in Chains and Nirvana sound similar? No. Hell, they don’t even really come from the same place, either. However, the two just happen to share some obscure genre. What makes this title so important, however, is that it represents a particular sect of time, and much like describing the unique features and characteristics of non-practicing Jews, it’s a “cultural thing.”
With that in mind, we’re tallying up the best of that short era. Agree, disagree, or throw in your own philosophies on why grunge is a nonexistent label. Hell, we’ll probably agree with you. Whatever the case, hopefully this list will help you dust off that crumbling plastic stack of CDs you left on your bookshelf to decay somewhere in your mother’s house.
And if you really feel inclined, you can throw on that flannel shirt of yours, too.

Often considered Temple’s little sister when it came to grunge supergroups, Above is one of the last real honest records of the time, debuting around ’95. At this time, Stone Temple Pilots, Bush, Live, and Collective Soul all came to water down the “grunge” label, and while respectable songs, something wasn’t quite the same. For one, the attention wasn’t there anymore. People moved on, flannel was being exchanged for mod suits and the like, and the youth that came to worship Cobain found justice with either Billie Joe Armstrong or Nas. Above was the last gasp and it’s quite the gulp of air. Layne Staley opts for a more seductive tone, which works against Mike McCready’s sultry guitar parts, and as a result, Mad Season offered a benevolent farewell to a time that may have been the last of its kind. If anything, “River of Deceit” remains one of the finest songs of the generation and time, both lyrically and musically. A perfect end of sorts.

One of the first times a grunge band really stepped out of its comfort zone, and the result was Nirvana’s best work by far. The real shame is that on record, you can’t see Cobain’s, or the band’s, reaction shots. If you can, try and find a video of “Where Did You Sleep Last Night?”, and focus on the end. There’s a moment when Cobain just lets loose at the end. When he pauses to take a breath, there’s this look on his face, a shocked expression if you will, as if life just left him. Say what you will, but few moments have ever truly been captured and while you can’t see that on record, you can feel it. Each song is dipped with this somber presence, something that lingered even then before the world would come to cry at the infamous shot heard ’round the world. It’s the feeling of a band at its prime, ready to bow out, and yet absolutely complacent with doing so. Think of it like the Beatles’ rooftop performance, if you will.

Grunge might have been a bullshit label, but the intentions were there. This was a unified scene, fully realized in one thing: chaos and independence. Temple of the Dog, while not grunge in sound per se, symbolized the hand to hand camaraderie that the Seattle scene capitalized on. It’s also just really damn good, too. Grunge’s first supergroup and big-time collaboration following mainstream success, songs like “Say Hello 2 Heaven”, “Reach Down”, “Call Me a Dog”, and the iconic single “Hunger Strike” all bled with emotion and vitality — in due respect to Mother Love Bone singer Andrew Wood. And though Mother Love Bone were never qualified as grunge per se, it’s this reactive record that scrounges up the parts and assembles something that squeezed into the genre. If there were ever a record that just said “Here’s that Seattle scene I was talking about,” this would be the record to show. Its sound mirrors Ten, but it’s the emotion between the lyrical and musical lines that cries out, “This is more than music, it’s our goddamned life.”

Everyone loves Mark Lanegan, which might explain why the guy’s worked with just about everyone in the biz. Even though it’s their sixth record, Sweet Oblivion is the best and most successful offering from one of the most underrated and overshadowed bands of the movement. “Nearly Lost You” may have hit the charts well, shifting 300,000 copies of the album alone, but a song like “Shadow of the Season” proves that Lanegan is as diverse as he is deceitful. Nobody’s pining for a Trees reunion, but one listen through this one, and you’ll realize two things: a.) why they managed to squeak in seven records and b.) why we’re pretty impressed with their sixth effort. It’s hard, but soft, it’s driving, but it’s slow…it’s hard to explain, but hey, it’s Mark Lanegan. ‘Nuff said.

When “Rotten Apple” opens up the Jar of Flies [EP], few could really make a case to why Alice in Chains were ever part of the grunge movement. It’s haunting, it’s spooky, and it’s melodic. There’s nothing hard or heavy here and it’s not even vocally reminiscent of the material that came out of Seattle at the time. However, it’s probably the most beautiful sound to ever come out of the Pacific Northwest, and with songs like the depressingly introspective “Nutshell”, the reflective yet soulful “I Stay Away”, and the jangly acoustics of “No Excuses” (which Live would go on to steal), it redefined what grunge could be.

If someone wanted to, say, change history and stop the grunge movement (think of the time travel physics behind Back to the Future, Part II), they’d only need to visit one person: Neil f’n Young. The songwriter, responsible for ol’ classics like “Southern Man” and “Heart of Gold”, reinvented himself before the ’80s with the critical smash, Rust Never Sleeps. Nobody knew the influence it’d have, though. However, the biting and crunchy rock n’ roll, coupled with Young’s “don’t give a fuck”-attitude set a precedent for a scene that wouldn’t emerge until 10 years later and about 800+ miles north (this one was recorded largely around San Francisco). If the music didn’t do the job, Young’s flannel-wearing looks gave him the proverbial title, “godfather of grunge.”

Shitty label or not, grunge in itself was a scene, and if one record label or group is responsible it’s certainly good ol’ Sub Pop. Long before they fueled today’s modern youth with bubbly indie-rock, the longtime Seattle label issued some of the hardest, heaviest, and rawest collection of work from the very streets that put ‘em in business. This second issue, which followed 1986′s Sub Pop 100, established the scene and precedent for grunge music. A bible, in some respects. From Nirvana’s “Spank Thru” to Green River’s “Hangin’ Tree”, anyone who was anyone could find solace in knowing their emerald city was hard at work again musically.
Good luck finding this baby, especially on vinyl where it belongs.

C’mon. This list wouldn’t exist without it. While it hasn’t aged as well as say, Ten, its role in spreading the Seattle sound is undeniable. Everyone had this album…and with good reason. Whereas Badmotorfinger kept the door closed on a few innocent bystanders, in order to retain some of that more honest brutality that made the scene was it is, Nevermind just opened the floodgates, and it held everyone in. What started with “Teen Spirit” continued with “Come As You Are” and by the time “Lithium” circulated on MTV, some of the world’s worst (e.g. fratsters, jocks, and anyone in prison) had already made it their own. Good thing or bad, it’s still the most iconic of its time, and one of the reasons why kids pick up guitars and hang out in garages…well, sort of (thanks Guitar Hero).

If you can ignore the fact that Chris Cornell is a walking joke, then you might be able to recall his former band (no, not Audioslave), Soundgarden. At its inception, critics likened their raw and expansive sound to everyone from Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath. Not too far off, but in all due respect, the band were something else entirely. They were brutal, but without some of the piss and shit of hardcore acts surrounding them. With Badmotorfinger, the band’s true breakthrough album, Soundgarden was still raw and hadn’t yet adopted more mainstream song structures. Instead, the album retains the band’s core underground elements, sort of the old grunge guard meeting commercial success. Cornell also sounds the best here, long before he ever mated with auto-tune and…Timbaland.

It’s easy to argue the top of any list, but it’s hard to deny Ten the spot here. While most fans today will spit at the term “grunge” and slam those who consider the Seattle quintet part of that “genre”, Pearl Jam derive from an era scrapbooked in hazy memories and Time Magazines that all were clueless as to what to call the exploding scene. The thing is, Ten still holds up pretty well — better than any release here, actually. Sure, the “Jeremy” video is hardly controversial today, and no, nobody’s really humming “Even Flow” at parties, but it’s still straight up rock ‘n’ roll that at the time proved that grunge could be both rockin’ and introspective. And sorry modern day fans (ourselves included), but the record still stands as the band’s most definitive piece of work.
Alice In Chains, grunge, L7, Mad Season, Melvins, Mudhoney, Neil Young & Crazy Horse, Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Screaming Trees, Soundgarden, Sub Pop, Temple of the Dog