I went to high school in the mid-1980s, which, to be honest, might’ve been the worst years for rock music. There were very few exciting new rock bands emerging, and record companies seemed uninterested in the classic, tried-and-true sound. Sure, some new acts popped up, but most were painfully cheesy: spandex pants, hairspray overload, and a glam aesthetic that leaned heavily into androgyny.
At the same time, Canada began pushing for homegrown talent, requiring radio stations to play a certain percentage of Canadian content. This gave rise to pop-rock bands like Honeymoon Suite and Glass Tiger. Their riffs lacked hooks, and the lyrics felt superficial, nothing that stuck. The scene was so uninspiring that most of my friends and I stuck to bands from the ’60s and ’70s. I started believing that rock music only became “good” after it had been around for a decade and played on the radio a million times.
Thankfully, things started shifting toward the late ’80s. Bands like The Cult, The Black Crowes, and Metallica began to break through, but those are stories for another blog.
Grunge? Never Heard of It
This blog is about how I somehow missed the birth of something great: grunge.
I remember younger guys at parties asking if I’d heard of Soundgarden. Louder Than Love had just come out, and someone played it for me. But it felt off, awkward high chord riffs and screaming vocals. It didn’t initially click for me.
Fast forward to around 1992. I was at a rock bar in Brampton, catching The Age of Electric, when a guy turned to me and said, “Hey, were you here last weekend? I’m so bummed, Nirvana played, and I missed it.”
My response? “Who’s Nirvana?”
Student First, Music Fan Second
I was in university in the early to mid-1990s, and while there was a strong indie scene, it was hit-or-miss. Tons of new bands, new sounds—but only a few had that elusive vibe that resonated and stuck. I saw the Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, and Nirvana t-shirts everywhere, but I didn’t have time to dig in. I was a student first, new music consumer second.
Unfortunately, it took years for those bands to make it onto classic rock stations, at first only being played well after midnight, or on special programs that showcased up and coming acts. They were too new for primetime, too unproven, at least in the eyes of radio programmers.
The Wake-Up Call: Neil Young at CNE Stadium
It wasn’t until a Neil Young concert in 1993 at CNE Stadium that I realized I was out of touch. Being a good Canuck, I always tried to catch Neil when he toured. His music, persona, and ideas were everything.
That year, he toured with opening acts Blues Traveler, Soundgarden, and Pearl Jam. It was an all-day show, and my friends and I had a few drinks at the beer garden outside. Everyone looked like Neil Young fans with long hair and plaid shirts, but when we started chatting, it turned out most of them were there for the openers. They didn’t even know Neil’s music. Everyone under 20 seemed to be there for Soundgarden and Pearl Jam. I remember by buddy, G-ber looked at me through his dreadlocked hair and said, “The times, they are a changin’, man.” That’s when it hit me: I’d missed something truely cool. A year earlier, Lollapalooza had hosted all the bands I now love.
Soundgarden & Pearl Jam: First Impressions
Soundgarden had just released Badmotorfinger, and I remember them playing “Jesus Christ Pose” and “Rusty Cage.” Sadly, they didn’t sound great. The mix was tinny, and Chris Cornell’s voice was piercingly high. Maybe it was the stadium acoustics or a bad mixing board setup. Or maybe Cornell hadn’t mastered the mic yet, because in later live videos, they sound much better. Still, I liked what I saw. They’d eventually become one of my top 10 favorite bands.
Then Pearl Jam came on. They sounded fantastic. Eddie Vedder did a stage dive during “Even Flow,” and I’d never seen anything like it. Totally awesome, the energy was raw and captivating, like lighting in a bottle.
Sneaking to the Front Row
During the intermission before Neil Young’s set, I started scoping the entry gates to the floor. We’d watched the openers from halfway back in the 60,000-seat stadium. I noticed that security at the rear gates wasn’t checking tickets closely, people were just flashing a ticket and walking through.
So my buddies and I timed it right, flashed our tickets, and slipped in. From there, it was every man for himself. “See you at the front, man.”
When Neil took the stage (backed by Booker T & the MGs), I made my move. I slipped into the middle section of the floor, halfway to the stage. I watched from several vantage points before targeting the entrance to the front section. A large, probably obese, security guard was struggling to check tickets, and people were slipping through.
It was getting dark, and I timed my approach with a crowd buildup to the front section of the floors. Then I darted between a couple of guys having their tickets checked, passing the security guard, and bolted toward the stage. A flashlight followed me for about 20 feet, but then I was too deep in the crowd to track.
I nuzzled into an open space in the third or fourth row and scoped out the front row. The first row of seats ran straight across, with no break for the center aisle. In front of that was six feet of human mass, heads and arms everywhere. People were climbing over the front row to get closer, so I did the same. I moved slowly, nodding and smiling, letting people know where I was headed. I wasn’t aggressive, just determined.
About halfway through Neil’s set, I reached the 4-foot barrier in front of the stage, and I stayed there for about an hour, rocking out to Neil’s wild solos. Eventually, however, all those drinks caught up with me, and I had to pee. My bladder was full, and I knew I couldn’t get out the same way I got up there. I signaled to security, and they pulled me over the barrier. I was escorted to the cargo exit gate and out into the night I went.
I found some bushes, relieved myself, then collapsed on a grassy knoll outside the stadium and listened to Neil finish his show. I was soaked in sweat, completely exhausted, but also elated. I may have missed the birth of new grunge bands at the time, but really, isn’t Neil Young the father of that sound and attitude?
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