#terry date

Friday, January 23: Pantera, "Heresy"

R.I.P. Diamond/Dimebag Darrell Lance Abbott (1966-2004), Vinnie Paul Abbott (1964-2018)

Screaming Trees: Uncle Anesthesia (1991)

I’ve written so many music blogs, bios and reviews, for so many websites, over the years that I can’t possibly remember them all; so, when I looked up the Screaming Trees’ 30-year-old Uncle Anesthesia in the All-Music Guide, I was shocked to discover that review’s author was ... ME.

Gulp!

This set my teeth on edge almost as much as Mark Lanegan’s harrowing memoir, Sing Backwards and Weep (a must-read), because I’m keenly aware that the “me” who penned this almost two decades ago was approaching the LP from a purely Grunge-ian perspective, with little knowledge of psychedelia.

Luckily, what I read wasn’t too embarrassing, so I’ll cherry-pick a few bits and expand upon them here ...

After their long stretch with independent label SST, for whom they recorded four full-lengths and a few EPs, these Ellensburg, Washington natives had arrived at Epic Records to little fanfare in 1990 (and would leave in much the same way a decade later).

And though it was curiously co-produced by Soundgarden’s Chris Cornell and metal band favorite Terry Date, ‘91’s Uncle Anesthesia quickly dispelled any worries that the famously argumentative quartet might be changing its tune to please a major label.

Instead, as its disturbing Alice in Wonderland-inspired cover art indicated, the Screaming Trees’ fifth long-player remained committed to the same neo-psychedelic sound they’d started to perfect on 1988’s Invisible Lantern and ‘89’s Buzz Factory.

Only better, if you ask me, because Lanegan’s whiskey-soaked voice had gained a deeper, gruffer gravitas, the better for contrasting against Gary Lee Conner’s lysergic, serpentine guitar textures on impressive fare like “Beyond this Horizon,” “Caught Between,” and “Something About Today.”

Meanwhile, heavier numbers like “Story of Her Fate” and “Time for Light” reflected the band’s post-punk roots, jangly efforts like “Bed of Roses” and “Lay Your Head Down” betrayed a certain R.E.M. influence, and funereal dirges like “Before We Arise” and “Disappearing” (with its Mexican horn section) piled on the darkness and despair.

As with all Screaming Trees LPs (and you’ll know this if you read Lanegan’s book), simply exiting the studio in one piece when all was said and done was no mean feat; but to do so armed with such a strong collection bordered on a miracle -- even if most consumers didn’t recognize it, at the time.

No, in fact, the Screaming Trees would come dangerously close to missing out completely on the Seattle grunge gravy train, and probably would have, had they not been signed to the label that assembled the era-defining Singles soundtrack, which finally broke them big with “Nearly Lost You.”

This song was obviously plucked from Uncle Anesthesia’s 1992 successor, Sweet Oblivion (the first to feature drummer Barrett Martin in place of the departed Mark Pickerel), which was ironically intended as a farewell album, until good fortune smiled upon the Screaming Trees.

For a short while, anyway ...