Under the Space Needle: Seattleites Share Stories of Seattle Center, Pt. 2

Since its construction in 1962 for the World's Fair, Seattle Center has been the site for many memorable music moments. With music festivals like Bumbershoot and Folklife, and venues like Key Arena and the Vera Project, some amazing bands have traveled through this local landmark... and when KEXP moves into our new home there, we're excited to become part of its musical history!

Tonight, KEXP hosts our first event at our new home with All In: The Rally for KEXP’s New Home from 6:00 PM to 8:00 PM at the Northwest Rooms. Join us for a live performance from The Cave Singers, with a beer garden, and remarks from John Richards of The Morning Show.

As KEXP embarks on this next chapter of Seattle Center music history, we asked DJs, staff, and local music scene luminaries to share some of their own personal memories of seeing music at this historical spot. (Read part one of these stories here.)

• In terms of memories of music at Seattle Center, my main one is probably seeing Nirvana at the old Coliseum with Helmet and Fitz of Depression back in 1992. I was in fifth grade and was obsessed with Nirvana, bugging my parents non-stop to take me to the show. No matter how much I hassled them they kept saying no. My dad finally said he had got tickets to a charity softball game and told me to stop asking about the show. On the day of the show, I was super depressed. He tried to cheer me up by talking about the softball game, but I wasn’t having it. We got in the car to head to the game and after a few blocks, I realized that we weren’t headed towards the field and when I asked my dad where we were going he said, “to see Nirvana” and I lost it!
• The show was amazing! They played all the songs I wanted to hear, plus a few new ones that would end up on In Utero. Two guys in the row in front of me got into a fight that started by one guy running down the row of seats and jump-kicking the other guy in the face with his Doc Martins! They also spent probably 20 minutes or so just smashing all of their gear. Being my first real rock show, it lived up to all my expectations. It was super loud, super rowdy, and I remember being impressed with the sheer number of people that were there to see a concert. I think this show was probably the moment that galvanized me as a lifelong music lover. I recently found some live footage from the show and have been watching it, which is really exciting!
• I guess my other Seattle Center music memory that stands out is going to the candle-light vigil for Kurt Cobain after they found his body. Was pretty heavy, but also really great to be there. I got to hear Courtney’s recorded reading of Kurt’s suicide note and listen to a bunch of music with fellow Nirvana fans, which definitely helped.
• – Graham Amsden, KEXP Financial Assistant

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• Bumbershoot, Monday, September 3, 1990. The Posies were supposed to be opening for — if I'm not mistaken — The Psychedelic Furs, but the Furs (or whomever that was) cancelled. The replacement band: Soundgarden. I'd seen The Posies a few times in clubs and on college campuses, but at Key Arena — well, that was a big deal.
• I believe there was some sort of water bottle give-away happening at Seattle Center that day, because in-between songs, Ken Stringfellow raised his water bottle and announced that he'd have preferred a different color. About 2 seconds later, a bottle of the requested color whizzed past Ken's head — dangerously generous!
• The Posies put on a great show, but I found myself getting excited about Soundgarden. Again, I'd seen the band a few times, but not since the recently released Louder Than Love album, which is still my favorite from these guys. Well, they were riff-tastically heavy, looking every inch an arena rock band, with Chris Cornell's shirt quickly abandoned, much to the delight of the audience. Again, a fantastic show, but the real treat came during the encore.
• The band returned to the stage, and I quickly recognized the encore tune as Spinal Tap's classic "Big Bottom". I don't recall if Kim Thayil was playing bass, but I suspect he was. Best of all, just after the song started, down from the rafters came the Spinal Tap skull. Good God — it's here in Seattle? The crowd promptly lost their collective mind and the song covered us all in the true spirit of ROCK. The crowd spilling out was a mass of sweat and broad smiles. It was glorious, a moment I'll never forget.
• – Abe Beeson, KEXP Fill-In DJ

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• My favorite show at Seattle Center was when Mt. St. Helens Vietnam Band played the Mural. There was a huge crowd and we brought Mad Rad on stage for a song. The energy was amazing as we launched tennis balls off of drums into the crowd. Later dispersed our friends through the audience to play toms for the beginning of the song "Albatross, Albatross, Albatross." KEXP filmed the set, and it looks fantastic.
• – Benjamin Verdoes
• I moved to Seattle on August 1, 2001, and all it took was a few weeks before I headed to the Mural Amphitheater for the very first time: one of my favorite bands, Superchunk, was playing a concert there... for FREE. WHAT? It was like Seattle was throwing me a welcome party or something: "Welcome to Seattle, li'l lady! Not only is the weather gorgeous, but here's one of the best bands ever... for FREE, 'cause we know you're broke from moving! Have fun, new Seattleite!" It definitely felt like a "sign" that I had made the right choice in moving here.
• – Janice Headley, KEXP Online Content Producer

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• I've had some truly memorable times at the Seattle Center. Getting to see Stone Temple Pilots and realizing how much of a maniac Scott Weiland really is. My first time hearing a fuzz guitar turned way up courtesy of Dan Auerbach. And seeing Kings of Leon with just a hand full of people (before they went all sex on fire).
• Having the opportunity to play the Seattle Center for Folklife, KEXP Concerts at The Mural, and Bumbershoot was amazing. After our set with Mudhoney, we tried to convince Mark Arm and his wife Emily to shotgun beers with us... but they had to go pick up their kids. After playing Bumbershoot, I ran into Judah Friedlander (the guy from 30 Rock) and we decided it was a better idea to go do whiskey shots then to watch Matt & Kim. I stand by that decision.
• – Ryan Granger, The Grizzled Mighty
• When I think of music at Seattle Center, the Northwest Folklife Festival is the thing that first comes to mind. I've been attending and performing at Folklife for years, and it's always a good time. One of my favorite memories as an attendee is stumbling onto an indoor program of Okinawan music, and discovering an entire genre that I hadn't known about and now adore. Being a performer at Folklife, and feeling connected to this diverse network of Northwest musicians, is always an honor. Oh, and then there's the time I saw Shellac at the Vera Project and got a ride home from someone who was also giving Steve Albini a ride to an after-hours poker game. That was pretty cool, too.
• – Levi Fuller, singer/songwriter and curator of Ball of Wax Audio Quarterly

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• The Seattle Center holds a special significance in my heart with regard to music memories... My introduction was as at a fairly early age, braving the (then intimidating) Seattle bus lines to witness hero bands such as Rocket From the Crypt, Karp, and Modest Mouse perform at Bumbershoot. I remember feeling like a band playing at Seattle Center instantly awarded them a sort of legitimacy... The City is allowing them to play in it's center? The mayor MUST have signed off on this!
• A memory that has always stuck with me through sheer silliness is the night I saw the Pixies at Bumbershoot. After their set, my best friend and I were in a daze, trying to wade our way through the crowds of people exiting the arena. My friend suddenly stopped dead in his tracks and looked me in the eyes, then slowly redirected his gaze to my right. I became acutely aware that I was holding hands with a strange woman, probably about 25 years my senior. Slowly I disengaged my hand from hers, at which point she looked down at me with an expression that either communicated "Hey! I thought we had something back there!" Or "Oh my god — I thought I was walking with my husband... who the hell are you?!" I mumbled an awkward apology and proceeded to run off giggling with my friend.
• Eventually I would end up being lucky enough to perform at Seattle Center myself at different events through the years including Bumbershoot, KEXP's Mural Ampitheater Series, and Folklife. And that's when I discovered that the whole legitimacy thing is totally true; we play shows at the Mayor's house like every other weekend now. And we owe it all to being accepted by the Center of Seattle.
• – Chris Cunningham, Ravenna Woods
• It hurts me to say it sometimes — but my fondest memory from a concert at Seattle Center unfortunately took place during a Nickelback concert at Key Arena in May of 2002. However, the fondness is in no way due to those Canadian peddlers of cheese rock — but rather for their opener, local axe-man and Alice in Chains founding member, Jerry Cantrell. At that time Jerry was touring on the release of his Degradation Trip solo album and was stuck in the middle slot of the tour. Sadly, a few weeks prior to the show, Layne Staley passed away from his battle with addiction, but instead of canceling the gig Jerry instead went ahead and played a gut wrenching extended set of AIC classics in dedication to his fallen friend. The crowd was almost a 50/50 mix of popped collars and shredded black band tees — yet everyone was transfixed by the haunting melody of the songs he performed, including a few acoustic Jar of Flies ballads that really pulled the heartstrings. Following the set, the crowd split back to its fanbases with collars and frosted tips moving towards a stage of pyro antics, while a somber crowd of AIC fans streamed out into the night knowing they had just seen something truly special and that they'd celebrated the legacy of one of their own in the best way possible — with his music.
• – Rich Hobby, Content Manager at Do206.com

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• 1993 was an remarkable year for Seattle bands. A scene that had begun with modest temperament and low expectations some eight years prior, and even further back depending to whom you speak, had transformed into an unlikely popular culture movement specific to Generation X. Perry Farrell’s Lollapalooza tours were already feeding new alternative musical forms to festival audiences and the emergence of alternative rock radio formats had been ushered in almost overnight by the success of Nirvana’s 1991 release Nevermind. Forms of music considered underground in nature were finding their way into mainstream exposure to new audiences whose sensibilities had been formed by the cynicism of Reagan’s '80s and the economic recession of the early '90s a condition I’m sure the graduates of 2008 to 2012 find all too familiar. Within this period (filled with too many transformational events to list here) Seattle’s Pearl Jam released their debut record Ten, a record that “caught on” in 1992 and firmly established the band as one of the premier groups from Seattle. Compositions like "Evenflow," "Black," the all-too-sadly prescient "Jeremy" and the defiant "Alive" (no doubt the spirit of Andrew Wood weighing heavily on this song) captured a prevailing mood among music fans alienated by the inauthenticity of the era. (It should be noted Nirvana’s Nevermind had a different but similar impact on listeners as well)
• Pearl Jam’s sophomore release Vs. was distributed in October 1993 to great acclaim and unruly sales figures, leading R.E.M. guitarist Peter Buck to remark to the media something to the effect of “they’re probably the biggest band in the world at the moment." High praise indeed.
• Such was the setting when Pearl Jam returned to Seattle for a three night engagement at Mercer Arena on the Seattle Center Campus. Wednesday, December 8, 1993 was the only evening that I was able to obtain tickets for the series of shows that had sold out in a matter of minutes. As was often my practice at the time, I left behind my group of friends and headed straight into the general admission mosh pit area, pushing forward and through the crowd of clamored, packed-in bodies until I reached an area I would have estimated as being the 9th row, had this been an Eric Clapton concert or some other “enjoy the seat you paid for” musical group. The first eight rows were impassable and holding a position in the ninth row at 6 foot 2 inches 200 pounds was a challenge, one that became even more acute when “the surge” of a thousand plus persons pushing from behind began as the show started.
• Thank goodness they opened with "Release," a meditation that allowed the crowd to feel out their respective positions and find their footing for the frenzy about to ensue. And ensue it did. The group played brilliantly, offering up selections from the newly minted Vs., the Ten album, and performances of unreleased songs earmarked for Vitalogy. It should be noted the band also paid tribute to John Lennon with a cover of "I Got a Feeling" hinting at the significance of December 8th in their introduction. After their set was exhausted, the band paused for what looked like an impromptu consult. Vedder returned to the microphone, cracked a joke about asking for Neil’s permission and Pearl Jam launched into "(Keep on) Rockin’ in the Free World."
• By this time in concert, I had managed to wrestle my way up to roughly 7th row.
• The first two lyrics and choruses go by fairly quickly. (This is, after all, an up-tempo affair!) At the beginning of the third lyric, however, Vedder pauses to scan the first 10 rows of the crowd, as the band continues to play.
• Vedder then looks… grabbing my attention… and points directly at me – it’s an unmistakable cue, and I instinctively launch myself up on top of the person in front of me in my feeble attempt to crawl on top the heads and shoulders of seven or so rows of people in front of me toward the stage. The journey is not easy. I try to pull myself forward only to find progress being halted or pushed back, but using whatever endurance I had remaining, I did manage to “surf” up to roughly third row where a stage bouncer grabbed a hold of me, pulling me toward the dreaded stage barrier “moat” that separated the crowd from the stage. My body at this point was completely horizontal on top of the crowd, I’m unable to see anything other than what’s directly below me. That’s when I hear the stage bouncer say, “You want this guy?” and Ed responding, “Yeah”.
• And from there, I was hoisted up on stage with Eddie providing a hand to leverage me to a standing position. I emerged having been punched in the temple of my head and my left shoe having been ripped off while surfing toward the stage. I felt somewhat dazed, a combination of exhaustion and adrenaline, looking out in front a sold out crowd with the band continuing to play. My first thought was to retreat to the back of the stage and watch the rest of the show from there. I started walk toward the backstage area. Vedder walked with me, microphone in hand.
• “You’re crazy, man.”
• I could only smile at Vedder’s statement, thinking, "Yeah, well, you’re the guy who does this every night." We continued to walk back.
• “Do you know the lyrics to this song?”
• I stopped walking and looked at Ed. “We got a thousand points of light,” I replied.
• The band continued to play.
• Ed responded with a slight grin. He then pulled up the microphone and presented it to me like it was on a tray or something. I looked down at the microphone, exhaled heavily and thought, “Really? Am I really going to do this? I can’t believe I’m going to pick up this stupid microphone." Exhaustion had given way to even more adrenaline and now an unnerving sense of fear and slight dread, but something compelled me to take the plunge and the microphone. I turned around and began making my way back toward the front of the stage, microphone in hand. My walk was slow and deliberate. It was within those moments that I took in the full effect of my surroundings — I saw my friends about 25 rows back clear as day, (still walking forward) — looked at the back row of the arena and took in the size of the crowd – (still walking forward) – looked at the band members slightly, catching Mike, Jeff and Stone doing their own thing maybe somewhat concerned as to what I might do. But the fix was in, and in retrospect, I understand Ed’s grin. I was done walking, now fully at the front of the stage. Catching the next downbeat some sort of unknown urge or drive from within me just came out and I started in on the lyric, not as a sung melody but rather as quieter spoken word. “We got a thousand points of light.” The band responded in turn, instinctively playing softer, opening space for the next lyric which was also spoken “for the homeless man,” I continued, briefly glancing to my right at Stone Gossard whose body was gradually becoming more animated. “We got a kinder, gentler…” I pause for a moment, Stone is now fully headbanging — signaling to me to hit the one and let it fly — but somehow I already knew this was going to happen. I didn’t need his cue. With my best possible effort, I bring up the volume and scream into the mic “Machine gun haaaaaaaaaand!!!” Abbruzzese responds with a 16th beat snare fill and, BAM — we’re off — rock city. The band kicks in at full volume. Nice.
• I stop. Hang my head down. Microphone in my hand on the right side of my body. A moment. No urge to continue with the lyric or something stupid like stage dive back into the crowd. Just a moment. I turn around to Vedder and hand the microphone back to him. We exchange glances. I proceed to walk toward the back of the stage following my first instinct of watching the show from the wings. Vedder finishes off the third lyric and chorus, and Pearl Jam ends their show. I see some familiar faces backstage, acquaintances from the Seattle club scene of mine who are working as roadies. They are quick to tell me that I nailed it. It seems most people who Eddie pulls up on stage carry on with a litany of profanities when given the microphone. I’m allowed to hang out backstage after the show. I meet Stone and Jeff, who thank me for making it happen the way it did. Other familiar faces whose names I’ve never known or forgotten are giving me nods or high fives. It’s a bit surreal. The Pearl Jam green room runs out of band members and then runs out of beer. We all go home.
• In December of 94, I find myself back at my parents’ house in the north suburbs of Chicago. My father has filed for divorce and my mother, in denial, is fighting the process. I’ve moved away from Seattle temporarily to see if I can help in some way but there’s really not much for me to do other than try to explain what’s going on to my 10-year-old sister. Everyone is miserable. I take a call from a high school buddy, John Olsen.
• “Rob!”
• “Hey John”
• “When did you say you sang with Pearl Jam?”
• “December 8th… last year”
• “I think I’ve found your concert”
• “No shit?”
• “Yeah – I think this is it”
• “Where are you?”
• “A head shop near Lincolnwood”
• “How many copies do they have?
• “Two”
• “Tell the clerk to hold them; I’m on my way!”
• "Hey mom, I’m borrowing the car and driving the 12 mile distance to get a bootleg copy (on CD no less) of a Pearl Jam show that’s apparently been manufactured in Italy and made its way to the Midwest mecca of Lincolnwood, Illinois before some other prospective collector finds out about the gem and pulls it out from under me! — Later!"
• The clerk wants $65.00. I talk her down to $40.00 explaining I expect my voice to be somewhere on this recording. John Olsen vouches for me as well, having used the store’s land line to call me in the first place adding an element of unparalleled urgency rarely witnessed by head shop clerks. The counter proposal is accepted. We drive back to John’s place. Looking over the liner notes, it’s all there — the concert set list as I remember it. We pop in the CD and select "Rockin’ in the Free World," listening through the song from the start and letting it flow. The second chorus finishes and there’s a long gap of the band just playing E minor to D to C. I explain to John — this is where I’m working my way up to the stage and getting my head kicked in! The rest of the recording plays out as I recall. Somehow through all the tumult of my present circumstances I’m re-experiencing a memory relegated by the passing of a year, a captured replica, however imperfect, of an elusive peak that I was fortunate enough to witness and play a part.
• – Rob Knop, KEXP Marketing Director