LoungeMachine
01-11-2006, 10:03 PM
And the beat goes out of warehouse
By Nicole Brodeur
Seattle Times staff columnist.
The movers arrived at 5 a.m. By 11 a.m., all that was left on the walls were a map of South America and a collage of "lost dog" fliers.
Plenty of longtime tenants have been moved out of the South Lake Union neighborhood in the name of Paul Allen-sponsored progress. Plenty of buildings have been sentenced to rubble. But when Pearl Jam was ordered out of its brick-and-wood headquarters before Christmas to make room for a new office building, so went a huge part of Seattle music history.
"It was the first clubhouse for all these bands that were becoming successful," band manager Kelly Curtis said the other day, as the band settled into a new place in the Georgetown neighborhood. "Soundgarden, Mad Season, Fastbacks, Mudhoney, Zeke. All those guys played here in the early days."
Pearl Jam was founded in 1990, when the crisscrossing of countless Seattle musicians stopped at a fateful, five-man intersection. Four years later, Eddie Vedder, Mike McCready, Stone Gossard, Jeff Ament and then-drummer Dave Abbruzzese (now the drummer is Matt Cameron) moved their operation to the intersection of Terry Avenue and Thomas Street.
The building became a rehearsal space for all of the band's studio recordings, tours and benefits, as well as the band's side projects, including Stone Gossard's Brad and Mike McCready's The Rockfords.
It also was the 1998 home of "Monkeywrench Radio," a mobile, pirate-radio station on which the band broadcast live shows, played noncommercial records, talked politics and hosted everyone from Corrine Tucker of Sleater-Kinney to Gloria Steinem.
Peter Frampton played here. So did guitarist Bill Frisell, and Ann and Nancy Wilson of Heart. Members of the Seattle Mariners and Boston Red Sox baseball teams stopped by. So did Dennis Rodman when the Chicago Bulls were in town.
In 1998, Cameron Crowe brought his crew to film "Single Video Theory," a documentary about the making of Pearl Jam's "Yield" album.
But more than any of that, the warehouse was the place where Pearl Jam grew up.
"I'm sure glad I had a video camera around all the time," said Kevin Shuss, 41, the band's archivist.
In 1994, after Pearl Jam's second album, "Vs.," Curtis sent equipment manager George Webb in search of a proper space. Webb spotted a "For Rent" sign in the window of a brick building in the Cascade neighborhood and crawled up on a trash bin to peer in the window.
Perfect.
"The place has a character of its own," Webb said. "There's not a lot of functional buildings like this in Seattle anymore. The fact that we used it for rock 'n' roll, and to be creative ... I think the building lent itself to that."
In came some 250 guitars, including McCready's 1959 Gibson Les Paul ("the Holy Grail of guitars," Webb said), and Ament's Azola Baby Bass. In came set pieces like a mirror ball, an 18-foot oval candelabrum and a giant devil head.
And yet, with so much there, the building — while secure — never felt like a fortress.
"That's the way we wanted it," Webb said. "We have always tried to maintain a certain amount of discretion and wanted it to be low profile and under the radar, and I think we accomplished that."
Still, hardcore fans knew the place, leaving gifts and missives for band members, or gathering outside during rehearsals.
"The fans have been really respectful of our space," said Tim Bierman, 46, manager of the band's Ten Club, for fans. "No one has ever tried to take anything more than what we have offered them — an open door here, an open window there."
In 2004, Curtis moved into an adjacent warehouse space, as did their publicity staff and the Ten Club. And the band's merchandise — once contained in a 4-foot-by-20-foot closet — expanded into 5,000 square feet of warehouse space.
Pearl Jam staffers agree that having all the operations under one roof played a part in the band's staying power. While other bands have splintered or faded away, Pearl Jam just celebrated its 15th anniversary, is finishing up a new album for a new company, J Records, and is preparing to tour later this year.
"I think the way we have tried to keep all the components of the band together, under one roof, has helped maintain that longevity," Bierman said.
"It's a genuine reflection of the way they live their lives and conduct their business."
They joke about putting together a Harper's Index about the old warehouse: The number of rolls of film shot by photographers such as Lance Mercer, Charles Peterson and Danny Clinch. The number of strings broken and changed. Bierman appreciates that history but is eager to move on.
"I am going to miss the old building and the character and the time that I have spent there," he said. "But it's a new time for the band. The move feels right."
Webb is not quite there, but he's got a sense of what the warehouse will look like in his memory.
"The biggest highlight down here for me has been to be able to see the band in their essence, when they've been in the warehouse and it's all stripped down and it's really about music."
By Nicole Brodeur
Seattle Times staff columnist.
The movers arrived at 5 a.m. By 11 a.m., all that was left on the walls were a map of South America and a collage of "lost dog" fliers.
Plenty of longtime tenants have been moved out of the South Lake Union neighborhood in the name of Paul Allen-sponsored progress. Plenty of buildings have been sentenced to rubble. But when Pearl Jam was ordered out of its brick-and-wood headquarters before Christmas to make room for a new office building, so went a huge part of Seattle music history.
"It was the first clubhouse for all these bands that were becoming successful," band manager Kelly Curtis said the other day, as the band settled into a new place in the Georgetown neighborhood. "Soundgarden, Mad Season, Fastbacks, Mudhoney, Zeke. All those guys played here in the early days."
Pearl Jam was founded in 1990, when the crisscrossing of countless Seattle musicians stopped at a fateful, five-man intersection. Four years later, Eddie Vedder, Mike McCready, Stone Gossard, Jeff Ament and then-drummer Dave Abbruzzese (now the drummer is Matt Cameron) moved their operation to the intersection of Terry Avenue and Thomas Street.
The building became a rehearsal space for all of the band's studio recordings, tours and benefits, as well as the band's side projects, including Stone Gossard's Brad and Mike McCready's The Rockfords.
It also was the 1998 home of "Monkeywrench Radio," a mobile, pirate-radio station on which the band broadcast live shows, played noncommercial records, talked politics and hosted everyone from Corrine Tucker of Sleater-Kinney to Gloria Steinem.
Peter Frampton played here. So did guitarist Bill Frisell, and Ann and Nancy Wilson of Heart. Members of the Seattle Mariners and Boston Red Sox baseball teams stopped by. So did Dennis Rodman when the Chicago Bulls were in town.
In 1998, Cameron Crowe brought his crew to film "Single Video Theory," a documentary about the making of Pearl Jam's "Yield" album.
But more than any of that, the warehouse was the place where Pearl Jam grew up.
"I'm sure glad I had a video camera around all the time," said Kevin Shuss, 41, the band's archivist.
In 1994, after Pearl Jam's second album, "Vs.," Curtis sent equipment manager George Webb in search of a proper space. Webb spotted a "For Rent" sign in the window of a brick building in the Cascade neighborhood and crawled up on a trash bin to peer in the window.
Perfect.
"The place has a character of its own," Webb said. "There's not a lot of functional buildings like this in Seattle anymore. The fact that we used it for rock 'n' roll, and to be creative ... I think the building lent itself to that."
In came some 250 guitars, including McCready's 1959 Gibson Les Paul ("the Holy Grail of guitars," Webb said), and Ament's Azola Baby Bass. In came set pieces like a mirror ball, an 18-foot oval candelabrum and a giant devil head.
And yet, with so much there, the building — while secure — never felt like a fortress.
"That's the way we wanted it," Webb said. "We have always tried to maintain a certain amount of discretion and wanted it to be low profile and under the radar, and I think we accomplished that."
Still, hardcore fans knew the place, leaving gifts and missives for band members, or gathering outside during rehearsals.
"The fans have been really respectful of our space," said Tim Bierman, 46, manager of the band's Ten Club, for fans. "No one has ever tried to take anything more than what we have offered them — an open door here, an open window there."
In 2004, Curtis moved into an adjacent warehouse space, as did their publicity staff and the Ten Club. And the band's merchandise — once contained in a 4-foot-by-20-foot closet — expanded into 5,000 square feet of warehouse space.
Pearl Jam staffers agree that having all the operations under one roof played a part in the band's staying power. While other bands have splintered or faded away, Pearl Jam just celebrated its 15th anniversary, is finishing up a new album for a new company, J Records, and is preparing to tour later this year.
"I think the way we have tried to keep all the components of the band together, under one roof, has helped maintain that longevity," Bierman said.
"It's a genuine reflection of the way they live their lives and conduct their business."
They joke about putting together a Harper's Index about the old warehouse: The number of rolls of film shot by photographers such as Lance Mercer, Charles Peterson and Danny Clinch. The number of strings broken and changed. Bierman appreciates that history but is eager to move on.
"I am going to miss the old building and the character and the time that I have spent there," he said. "But it's a new time for the band. The move feels right."
Webb is not quite there, but he's got a sense of what the warehouse will look like in his memory.
"The biggest highlight down here for me has been to be able to see the band in their essence, when they've been in the warehouse and it's all stripped down and it's really about music."