It was my first meaningful piece of musical memorabilia: a Stone Temple Pilots necklace.
“STP” was emblazoned in red and black bold face type across a circular, silver-dollar-sized piece of steel, with a black leather lanyard holding it all together. My sister bought it for me at the Seattle stop of Lollapalooza 1992, along with a “Honey Bucket” t-shirt. I was nine years old and totally, utterly stoked. I’m 32 now; I still have the necklace.
As unsurprising as it may be, due to his long battle with substance abuse, the death of Scott Weiland Friday has hit harder than expected. Given the heartfelt tributes online, it appears I’m not alone. Weiland and Stone Temple Pilots were formative to many music lovers and certainly helped shape my life as a rock nerd and critic. They were among the first bands I was drawn to, sneaking into my older sisters’ rooms to snoop around in their CD collections. Alongside albums from the likes of U2, Snoop Dogg, Pearl Jam, The Lemonheads, R.E.M., Smashing Pumpkins, Nirvana and others, STP’s first two releases became the soundtrack of my explosion into the music world, and the early 1990s was fertile ground.
But, in a sense, Weiland and STP were a band out of time. The ‘90s were all mope and angst, and while their first album, Core, bore the hallmarks of grunge music—brooding, abstract lyrics and down-tuned electric guitars—STP evolved away from that sound with each new album, hitting their stride as a ‘70s arena rock group with Weiland’s slithering dance moves, leather pants, eyeliner, silk scarves, and dandy-esque suits. The musical heart of the band, brothers Dean and Robert DeLeo, crafted hooky canvases for one of the best rock voices of our era. Their high-water mark was Tiny Music… Songs From the Vatican Gift Shop, and Scott agrees. In one of his final interviews, surfaced in the wake of his death, Weiland gushes about the 1996 release, which produced three No. 1 Rock Singles amid a solid, full album experience. From the drifting-dream jazz and fluid vocals of “And So I Know” to the driving psych-rock of “Tumble in the Rough,” the distorted pop balladry of “Lady Picture Show” to the manic, kaleidoscopic rock of “Trippin’ on a Hole in a Paper Heart,” the cascading and surging emotion of “Adhesive” to the slide guitar sketch of “Daisy,” Tiny Music is a solid-gold tour-de-force. It’s been embraced by rock critics and hardcore STP fans, but hasn’t been given the due it deserves. “That’s STP’s most creative album,” Weiland said, picking it as the album from his catalog he’d take to a deserted island. Me too.
As a music nerd, however, STP fandom sometimes presented a few problems. Grunge lifers claimed they were a cash-grab band, assembled by a label to bank on the flannelled success of bands like Pearl Jam, the Seattle group STP would regularly and unfairly be compared to. The indie nerds pointed to Stephen Malkmus, the Pavement frontman who prodded STP with his track “Range Life,” calling them “elegant bachelors.” “They’re foxy to me / Are they foxy to you?” This was somehow construed as a hot rock beef in 1994. And so the lines were drawn. But why pick sides? Why not both?
I have fond memories of Scott Weiland. During my six years as an editor with SPIN magazine I had the pleasure of interviewing him several times, and my coworkers often razzed me for my unabashed giddiness (few others—for example, Noel Gallagher, Marilyn Manson, Jason Spaceman, Johnny Marr, Malkmus—were of equal thrill). We talked about the comeback STP album. We talked about his out-of-left-field Christmas release, his memoirs, his clothing line, and his hard rock band with members of Guns N’ Roses, Velvet Revolver. But the best of those interviews was a long chat just before the release of his second solo album, 2008’s Happy in Galoshes. After the procedural questions about the album, all answered in a concise, I’ve-answered-this-one-before manner, we talked about his influences and favorite bands, and he just opened up. He poured out knowledge and praise for Led Zeppelin, The Doors, T. Rex, Aerosmith, The Rolling Stones, Elton John, and especially his idol, David Bowie—all the artists that had a part in shaping his personal and musical identity. I had to interrupt, halting his affectionate rambles, each time I had a question. I’ve witnessed few people deliver such ardent testimonies to rock and roll.
Still, the guy has had issues. Crack. Heroin. DUIs. Very public marital issues. Egotism—the stories from the photo shoot for SPIN’s cover story on STP’s 2010 return were rife with intoxicated ridiculousness. But he fought back. He had triumphs and failures in his battle with drugs, alcohol, and himself, but sadly, it ultimately claimed his life. But strip away the drugs, the line-drawing Pavement “disses,” the lazy Pearl Jam comparisons, and all the rock elitist shade-throwing, and you’re left with a collection of truly great rock and roll songs and a man capable of delivering transcending live performances. Few moments in music are more mesmerizing than when Scott slithers across the stage, plants a foot on the speaker, and screams into a megaphone, his silk ascots billowing around his neck. The guy was the definition of a classic rock star. That’s how we choose to remember Scott Weiland—as one of rock and roll’s biggest fans and greatest talents. We’ll miss you, Scott. Godspeed.
Revisit Stone Temple Pilots’ Top Songs in Prime Music.