I'd Love to Turn You On #224 - Screaming Trees – Dust (1996)

            Having spent pretty much all my formative years in the 1990s, a big part of my musical upbringing revolved around mainstream radio’s changing of the guard from glam metal to “grunge” (as it was referred to at the time, though it’s pretty much just classic rock nowadays). As a die-hard metal fan all through the ‘80s I resisted this shift at first, but even I was powerless to deny the allure of these incredible bands coming from the Pacific Northwest. Much of it was still extremely heavy, yet it somehow seemed more accessible, more like the garage bands that I was used to playing in. I mean, I loved metal, but let’s face it, nobody that I was playing with at 12 years old was going to be able to rip through a George Lynch guitar solo. So it wasn’t so hard to see why this new grunge flavor rocketed in popularity, leaving metal in its dust.

One of the more overlooked bands to come to prominence in this movement was Seattle’s Screaming Trees. Likely this is because they were coming from a background more concerned with blues and psychedelic rock and less focused on punk aesthetics than many of the other bands in that scene. However, they did have all the ingredients to be huge. A monolithic rhythm section, crushing, fuzzed-out guitar tone and a vocal delivery by one of the best vocalists in the business, one Mr. Mark Lanegan. By the time their seventh album (and third for a major label), Dust was released in 1996, they had gone through a lot as a band, from in-fighting and personnel changes to substance abuse and the loss of friends and contemporaries to such addictions.

These events were perhaps where Lanegan was coming from in his songwriting, as Dust explores a gothic sensibility more akin to his later solo work. Not that the Trees’ songs were ever all that sunny, but Dust seems to capture a darkness that had previously only been hinted at. The album’s opener, “Halo of Ashes,” for instance, kicks off with guitarist Gary Lee Connor’s jangly, Yardbirds-esque opening riff which is joined by a booming, tribal drum lead-in courtesy of drummer Barrett Martin. Lanegan’s lyrics come in, immediately exploring themes of mortality and defeat. The album’s first single, “All I Know” is an anthemic blues-rock staple that stands as one of the record’s highlights. Also worthy of mention is the sweet yet macabre ballad “Sworn and Broken” with a haunting organ solo by guest player Benmont Tench from Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers.

Production-wise, Dust is arguably the best-sounding record by the Trees. The band tapped George Drakoulias to produce. Known for his work with many American Recordings artists like the Black Crowes and the Jayhawks, Drakoulias’ finished product was a more polished, arena-ready sound than previous efforts. To top it off, Andy Wallace (of Nirvana’s Nevermind fame) was hired to master, further adding to the album’s sheen. Perhaps this was a last-ditch effort to cash in on the grunge trend and get the Trees onto bigger tours. Unfortunately, the album’s release came just a hair too late, and the grunge sound started to become less and less relevant in the subsequent years. The Trees took an extended hiatus after that, officially disbanding for good in 2000, making Dust their final record.

It’s truly baffling to me that Screaming Trees weren’t one of the biggest bands of the 1990s. They rose to prominence at the same time as the Nirvanas and Pearl Jams of the world, they were a huge part of the Seattle underground music scene since as early as the mid-1980s and their single “Nearly Lost You” introduced them to the mainstream via the same film soundtrack as other grunge behemoths of the day, Cameron Crowe’s Singles. With all the stars in alignment at the time, superstardom seemed inevitable for them and it just didn’t happen. While this is a real shame, it also set the stage for a very lucrative solo career for Lanegan, not to mention his being a sought-after commodity for guest spots. So maybe it’s all for the best. However, I implore anyone, especially Lanegan fans, to explore the Trees’ back catalog because it is all incredible. And Dust is a hell of a swansong.

-         Jonathan Eagle

I’d Love To Turn You On At The Movies #196 - Trees Lounge (1996, dir. Steve Buscemi)

In the mid-to-late 1990s, Steve Buscemi had one of the most ubiquitous mugs in show business. He showed up in the films of everyone from the Coen Brothers to Quentin Tarantino and seemingly every indie film in between. With his wiry frame and excitable bug-eyed demeanor, Buscemi played the perfect tough-guy henchman-type. His presence is always striking, and he’s been one of my favorite actors since the first time I saw him in Reservoir Dogs. In Trees Lounge, Buscemi takes on the role of screenwriter and director in addition to the lead role. The result is a bleak portrait of the life of a small-town alcoholic.

Buscemi plays Tommy Basilio, the protagonist, who has recently lost his job and his girlfriend of eight years to his former best friend. Tommy lives in a gritty section of Long Island in a small, run-down apartment above a bar called Trees Lounge where he spends just about every waking moment of his life drinking and chatting with the bar’s other regulars. One day, Tommy learns that his Uncle Al (Seymour Cassel), the local ice cream man, has died of a heart attack. Al’s funeral not only brings together a family who has so obviously drifted apart from one another, but also gives Tommy an employment opportunity to take over Al’s rounds. Business is slow at first, as Tommy does not prove to be as likeable to the neighborhood kids as Al was. But eventually, he enlists the help of Debbie (Chloe Sevigny), his former girlfriend’s teenage niece. This blossoms into a minor romance, further complicating things in Tommy’s life and confusing the naïve Debbie.

Throughout the course of Trees Lounge, Tommy’s presence has a King Midas-in-reverse effect on everything and everyone around him. The more he drinks and closes in on himself, the more he pushes away the only people around that genuinely want to help him. Tommy’s life, at his own doing, spirals more and more out of control, the crux of which lies at this small dive bar that acts as a metaphor for the lives of Tommy and the other patrons. The staff, the décor and the jukebox selections have never been changed. They stay constant, stagnant; much like the people, the ghosts, that inhabit it. The opening credits scene of the film perfectly portrays the kind of place Trees Lounge is when it focuses on one of its regular barflies, Bill, an elderly man who never leaves his bar stool, ordering a double shot of bourbon and staring blankly into space. Bill is a fixture at “The Trees” all throughout the film, sitting silently by himself at the same stool and occasionally barking at someone to leave him alone. This juxtaposes perfectly with the final scene, in which Bill is ominously absent, recently hospitalized because he “just stopped breathing.” Tommy, sitting in Bill’s stool, learns of this news and asks the other barflies why no one is with him. They all assure him they’re going “after this drink.” Tommy, realizing where he is headed, stares blankly in exactly the same way Bill does at the onset of the film.

This film has come to mean a lot to me over the years. I am intimately familiar with this life. I mean, I was in high school when I first saw it, so I hadn’t really experienced life yet. But over time, it’s become not just one of my favorite films, but the film that I perhaps relate to the most. Alcoholism runs rampant in my family. I myself have struggled with it for decades. More specifically, I have lived the life of the small town daily saloon drinker. I know these characters well. I know the feeling of hopelessness and pessimism that leads one to remain in such a comfort zone and say, “well, fuck it. I guess I’ll go drink again.” Buscemi captures this working-class alcoholism more realistically than anything I’ve ever seen. But more than that, he also perfectly captures the self-destructive nature that can often come with family and relationship rifts. Buscemi himself has stated that the film is a sort of hypothetical autobiography, saying that had he not left his small Long Island neighborhood of Valley Stream and begun his acting career, this is the life for which he was headed. In a lot of ways, my recent move to Colorado parallels that idea.

If it feels like I’m explaining a film that is very heavy, it’s because I am. But, please don’t let that keep you from checking Trees Lounge out. While it may not be a feel-good sensation, Buscemi’s directorial debut is extremely funny at times. It’s very dialogue-driven, almost more like a theatrical production than a feature film. Another thing that sets it apart from, say, Barfly or Leaving Las Vegas is that it’s not all dark and depressing. There are actually some very touching moments between Buscemi’s Tommy and the various other characters. Maybe not everyone can relate to the material the same way I do, but I really do feel that it’s possibly Buscemi’s finest film, acting, directing or otherwise.

-         Jonathan Eagle