Seattle in the ’90s has reached mythological status. A time when the world focused its collective attention on a tiny scene of bands that had nothing in common other than a love of distortion, riffs and authenticity.

It gave birth to household names – chiefly the ‘big four’ of grunge: Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Alice in Chains and Soundgarden – but it also snuffed out the candle for some of its most iconic musicians.

Drugs and depression were an undercurrent that swept through the city like the Duwamish River. Kurt Cobain, Andy Wood, Layne Staley were all claimed by addiction. Chris Cornell and Mark Lanegan left longer legacies, but were still taken too soon.

For Pearl Jam guitarist Mike McCready, they were friends and bandmates. People he misses dearly. And the grief hit him all over again during the Covid lockdown.

“I was sitting around thinking about the singers that had died in our scene,” he tells me from his studio over Zoom. “I’ve had dreams about some of them and they haunt me sometimes. I was thinking, ‘Was it worth it for all these guys and women?’”

He didn’t know how to answer that question. He sought solace the only way he knew how: through art. Writing it all down seemed the best place to start.

“I could only write what I know. But I wanted to do it in the context of a historical fiction of the Seattle music scene. And I wanted to change the names and create its own world within it.”

McCready’s name is intertwined more than most. He got his first break when Cornell invited him to play on Temple of the Dog, the Soundgarden frontman’s tribute to his departed friend and roommate Andy Wood. Pearl Jam formed at the same time. A later stint in rehab sparked Mad Season, his part side-project, part therapy with Layne Staley and Mark Lanegan.

This new project, however, was outside his comfort zone, so he sought advice from friend, director and lifelong Pearl Jam fan Cameron Crowe. He was convinced: this could be a rock opera.

But not just yet. A stage show is still on the cards, but Farewell to Seasons is releasing first as a graphic novel that tells the story of Seattle through four fictional bands.

It’s packaged with a soundtrack album that features all-new songs from McCready, who is also singing for the first time, alongside a band of Seattle music vets including Duff McKagan, Dave Matthews bassist Stefan Lessard, Fastbacks drummer Mike Mussburger, Chris Friel, Nate Yaccino and Thunderpussy’s Molly Sides.

While it was challenging on both practical and emotional levels, McCready ultimately found the project cathartic. In a candid interview, he revisits his favorite musical eureka moments, the Seattle guitarists who most inspired him, and just what’s next for Pearl Jam.

You said you’re haunted by these ghosts. It must have been challenging to dig into the history of the Seattle scene and your part in it, given how many friends and fellow musicians you’ve lost along the way.

It was. It’s hard to think about the whole scene and how young and naive everyone was, and how much this explosion happened in this relatively provincial small city of Seattle, Washington, where everybody knew each other.

I was playing in a band prior to all that called Shadow, and I wanted to put that in the story as well. That’s one of the bands that’s actually named after the real band.

I felt like we never really got the props that we should have over the years, because we were 16 and playing all around the Northwest and doing shows. We broke up when everything started happening. I spent my 10,000 hours with that band, and I’m very proud of that era.

But later, getting to play with Layne or Chris or Lanegan, all these incredible singers, and now they’re gone. Kurt, for that matter – I didn’t know him at all really, other than him being an incredible singer-songwriter. Even Hendrix. What would they be doing now? Would they be blues artists? Would they be painters? That’s what haunts me to this day.

You moved to L.A. with Shadow to try and make it. When did you realize it hadn’t panned out?

About a year in, I got really sick with Crohn’s. We played a bunch of shows down there. Rick Friel, our bass player at the time, booked all the shows and made it all happen. We opened up for Andy Taylor. I got to see some cool stuff – I saw Jane’s Addiction at a club; I saw the Welcome to the Jungle video shoot.

The reason we moved down there was that Duff McKagan stopped by the Shadow house in ’84, and said he was moving to Los Angeles. And we were like, “There’s something to that.” And then a year later, they put out that EP [Live ?!★꩜ Like a Suicide].

It was a year of me working at Aaron’s Records, drinking too much, getting Crohn’s, going, “I can’t do this anymore.” So I moved back and I gave up. I quit playing music for two years from ’88, ’89. I was done. And then I got a call out of the blue from Stone.

What do you remember about that moment when you first played together with Stone? That must have been pivotal for you as a guitar player, to come back to the instrument after almost giving up.

When I got the call from Stone, I was working at a pizza place and I had given up. I was depressed and probably drinking too much. I was at my friend Tim DiJulio’s house, playing to a Stevie Ray Vaughan record – so I was still playing a little bit. And [Stone] saw that – I remember him walking in when Love Bone was still happening. But I had known him since seventh grade – Seattle was very small in the ’80s and in the early ’90s before it blew up. We all knew each other, we all went to the same parties.

When we started playing together, selfishly, I was like, “’Okay, this seems to be my door. I better walk through it.” I always think of this Paul Westerberg quote: “Opportunity knocks once and the door slams shut.” After me going through LA and not making it and being depressed, all of a sudden this thing happens when I’m not looking for it. And out of a death – Andy Wood dies. That was an interesting musical paradox early on for me.

It was exciting. It was new. Who knew what was going to happen? But I felt like we connected first through humor. And then, he just had a ton of riffs and when we started playing, I wanted to do something opposite of what he was doing. Kind of like Aerosmith did stuff – early Aerosmith was in my mind back then – and I was going to be the lead guy, I guess, was his thought.

Farewell to Seasons starts with a young teenager, David Williams – who is based on you – jamming in his bedroom. Can you remember the moment you got your first guitar and started jamming in your bedroom?

It was late 1978, early ’79. Мy dear friend Danny Newcomb, who was the guitar player for Shadow, lived on my block and we were both 11. And I met Rick and Chris Friel. I’m a Cub Scout playing soccer, and all of a sudden I see this Kiss lunchbox that my friend Rick has. Those guys are playing and then I join them within six months.

We’re playing shows at 12 years old – our drummer’s eight. We started playing right away at talent shows in junior high. We rented a church out called the Unitarian Church. I just found a ticket for it the other day – it was a dollar. The Friel house is where everybody went and we would rehearse there all the time, three hours a day, five days a week for five or six years.

What was that first guitar?

It was a $100 Matao Les Paul, black. It was pretty good. It had a good neck on it. I smashed it and then I fixed it. I was doing that early and I kind of regretted it. I was 12 and I threw it in the air at this talent show – there’s a picture of me chucking it in the air in one of the Pearl Jam books. Yeah, I was way into The Who. [laughs]

Another thing that really struck me is how the novel depicts your life with Crohn’s disease. David’s parents say, “All he does is use the bathroom and play guitar.” Did playing guitar help you deal with Crohn’s?

[Laughs] I think it’s a little harsh on my parents because they were really supportive, actually. But for story’s sake, we kept it in there.

The pain that comes with Crohn’s disease – which feels unbearably bad in your gut, and it’s embarrassing and you shit yourself, and all sorts of stuff I’ve had happen to me over the years – I believe my playing got better because of that.

And it also got me back to Seattle from L.A. – so I look at it as a catalyst. This is with perspective; when I had it, it sucked and I thought my life was over. And it turns out it wasn’t. Luckily there’s a lot more medications and diets now than when I got it. I continue to work with the Crohn’s & Colitis Foundation because of that.

But yes, I think it helped – it made me play deeper, hopefully. It was an antidote. Guitar is an antidote to many things for me.

And of course, you had your own addiction problems, but guitar was always there. You even formed Mad Season out of rehab.

As I was spiraling in my addiction and alcoholism in the early ’90s, I luckily got into rehab. I got out and I was kind of naive – like, “I want to get everybody sober along with me.”

Layne was my friend, I saw him struggling and I wanted to help him out, but also wanted to create music with him because I was sober for the first time. It gave me confidence, whereas I didn’t really have the confidence as much with Pearl Jam because everybody was such great writers for those first three records.

Mad Season allowed me to explore my writing abilities with Layne and my friend Baker [Saunders], and then I always wanted to play with Barrett [Martin] because he was this great drummer for the Screaming Trees.

The premise of it was to help Layne or help all of us… but everybody’s got to help themselves. I had to find out the hard way.

Collaboration was such an important part of the Seattle scene. What are the jams and recording sessions that really stick in your mind?

We did a cover of Hey Baby (New Rising Sun) by Hendrix with myself, Chris Cornell, Matt Cameron, and Jeff Ament [as M.A.C.C.]. Those guys [Soundgarden] were in recording one of their records and I just came by and said, “Hey, I’ve got an opportunity to do a Hendrix song. Do you want to do this?” And they were all up for it. We got to do that song during their session. Watching Chris sing on that one…

I had seen him obviously when we did Temple of the Dog. Temple was probably the first life-changing experience for me in terms of, “Okay, now I’m playing on this thing that’s very important.” This was a tribute to Andy Wood that Chris had written and I wanted to be very conscious of that but also play my ass off.

Prior to that, it was a big learning experience for me to let go, and Chris allowed me to let go and play all over that record. He was always super-cool to me and super-cool to Ed [Vedder]. So I’ll love him dearly forever for that situation.

Playing with Layne was great – the thing about Layne was that he would never talk shit about anybody. We’re all shit-talkers in Seattle, very passive[-aggressive]. Layne wouldn’t. He was funny and had a good heart. So when I got to play with him and I was trying to get sober, it was a mixed bag of emotions. I felt very proud of the project, but I was worried at the same time: am I getting too close to this? Could this be bad for me?

Playing with Ed for the first time [in 1990] was amazing. We were listening to some old tapes when he first got here – he recorded stuff on a boombox, and I went, “Fuck, this guy is good.” It was the first time I was in a situation where everybody was really firing on all cylinders when Pearl Jam first got together. And that was going on at the same time as Temple. A lot was happening very quickly.

Who were the guitarists that had the biggest impact on you from the Seattle scene?

Clearly the most obvious would be Hendrix, which is the scene before, but he made it in England and we all know the history of all that. I love to hear Kim [Thayil] play – he’s got an interesting style. He hits a chord differently than I hit; that allows him to move his fingers in that way in those Soundgarden songs.

I like Jerry’s style – he’s a great writer. Getting to see all those guys play was really fun, and getting to tour and open up for Alice in Chains when we were Mookie Blaylock was a fun time. Steve Turner and Mark Arm just beat the hell out of the guitars and there’s a relentless punk energy there, so that’s fun to watch.

The thing that surprised me about the Seattle scene is everybody’s so different, and this very small scene turned out to be huge. Kurt, of course, was a great guitar player in his way, as a songwriter – getting to see that live was incredible, too.

I’ve got to get to the inevitable Pearl Jam questions: what’s next and when are we going to find out who the drummer is?

We’re on a holding pattern right now because I’m working on this and Ed’s going to Japan. We’re going to find somebody. We don’t have anybody right this second to announce. I wish I did. I’m dying to play. We’ll make it happen – I’m excited to see where our future is. Everybody still wants to do it.

Were you surprised when Matt Cameron announced he was leaving?

I was kind of surprised. I think Matt was getting tired of being on the road; he’s paid his dues over the years and I wish him the best. It just wasn’t working for him anymore going on the road, and that’s OK.

We’ve been around a long time, and Matt was a huge reason we are still around; we were lucky to have him for 27 years. I was a little surprised and sad, but I also love him and I wish him the best.

Lastly, is there any new guitar gear that’s impressing you? Last time we spoke you were raving about Fender’s digital Tone Master amps, and lately you’ve been running FRFR cabs.

My guitar tech, Josh Schreibeis, has designed an amp modeling system and I think it’s made me play better. I used it on the Dark Matter tour. I love the consistency of it. [McCready’s live system is based around the Fractal Axe-Fx III – Ed]

I love the Tone Master [Pro] – I have it right here and I play on it every day [at home]. I can pick up any kind of pedal on that thing and it sounds pretty great.

I know there’s purists that probably aren’t into that, but I felt like my amp modeling system along with the old analog stuff has made me a better guitar player.

I can say, “Hey, I want this to sound heavier,” and he’ll go, “Okay, bam, it’s heavier.” He knows the technical stuff, and I know the verbiage – like, “Make it sound like The Byrds in 1966.”

I think it was the consistency of the amps over the Dark Matter tour that pushed me to play better than I have ever done. I just felt more confident.

• Farewell to Seasons is released on October 6 2026 via Z2 Comics.

Heart's Ann Wilson has revealed the trick she used back in the ’90s to compel her musician peers to jam whenever they passed by her house.

In an interview with the Broken Record Podcast, she recalls, “Usually, it would happen after somebody's concert, and everyone would show up for the concert. And then whoever was free afterward would show up at my house, and they'd all come in and start drinking beers and smoking ciggies and sitting up on my counters, and then pretty soon somebody has started to play.

“I was no fool – I would always have in my living room, I'd have guitars laying around, casually, and a piano and a couple of little amps.”

The musicians who happened to jam at Wilson's house included Alice in Chains' Layne Staley, Soundgarden’s Chris Cornell, and Kim Thayil, and Pearl Jam. The musicians were all part of the Seattle music community, who quickly embraced Wilson and her sister after they moved to Seattle, and formed their acoustic side-project, The Lovemongers.

“Oddly enough, a lot of those musicians that were part of the Seattle community then loved The Lovemongers, and we loved them, and we'd all show up at each other's shows. And it didn't matter that it was at this little club. It really didn't matter. It was just about the music and about playing camaraderie," she adds. 

In a recent interview with Total Guitar, Wilson's sister and bandmate, Nancy Wilson, described what it was like for the two of them to return to Seattle after grunge annihilated the hair metal scene. “We were so embarrassed to come back during the explosion of Soundgarden and Alice In Chains and Pearl Jam,” she admits. 

“All those guys were our brothers from our hometown. When Mother Love Bone’s singer Andy Wood died, my best friend Kelly Curtis, who managed Pearl Jam, invited us to come to his memorial party. 

“That’s where I met Chris Cornell and all these guys that I’m still really tight with – Eddie Vedder, Mike McCready and Kim Thayil. It was such a relief to be accepted into that rock community in our hometown, after the big hair and the artifice in the ’80s.”

Heart are currently on their Royalty Flush tour. The North American leg wraps up on May 24 at Atlantic City Hard Rock Live, New Jersey. This will be followed by a European and UK leg, which includes their largest-ever UK headline show on July 1 at London's O2 Arena.

Nuno Bettencourt has recently revealed how Alice in Chains' Layne Staley radically influenced the way plays guitar on stage.

On The Jay Jay French Connection podcast, Bettencourt recalls a touring story that played a crucial role in his journey to embracing the way he presents himself on stage, and, more importantly, his playing style.

“When Extreme first started doing tours, Alice in Chains [were] opening for us, with nobody in the crowd. I remember at soundcheck, seeing Alice in Chains for the first time when Layne Staley came up on stage and they did Man in the Box, and they started playing it. I was like, ‘Wow that's soundcheck. Really interesting, cool band, great guys.’

“Then I saw the show and I came out, and there was Layne again, and there he was, standing there, with his eyes closed. And he was just singing. I remember a fan after the show came up. He goes ‘Man, I don't get it. That Layne Staley, he just stands there. It's like concrete shoes.’”

However, Bettencourt himself was in awe of Staley. “I could not take my eyes off this guy. I could not. Why am I in awe? I realized that day is, you don't perform for people. You don't prove anything to the audience. You take them with you. You take them with you on your journey.

“When I was watching Layne I thought, 'Oh my god, everybody thinks it's like scoring points. Like how was the performance from one to 10? Like gymnastics.’ It isn't. That's what makes you go home with an experience. As a fan, you go like, ‘Fuck man. I was there when I saw the show.’

“That's what musicians, guitar players, anybody, needs to know, is just, there is only one of you. Nobody else can do what you do.”

Elsewhere in the interview, Bettencourt mentions how this experience, as well as Queen’s Brian May, changed the way he sees songwriting, in particular the pressure to add guitar solos.

“One of the things that I learned early on was like, I was always disconnected with guitar players when I heard a song and then a solo came,” he says. “And I always thought, ‘Jeez, oh well, I wonder why I didn't connect with the solo, even though the solo is great.’ But Brian May always taught me to play the solo for the song.

“Instead of like, somebody going, ‘Hey, you got eight bars, take a solo.’ It's like no, you got eight bars to feel the song, and to respect the song and make it a full composition for years to come. What's happening is, it will live beyond you. It's more important than you.”

Bettencourt put these words into action when he joined Stone Temple Pilots on stage just a few days ago to perform the alt-rock icons’ Trippin' on a Hole in a Paper Heart.

During a conversation with Tom Morello on his Maximum Firepower podcast, Jerry Cantrell has recalled Layne Staley’s early fascination with the Rage Against the Machine firebrand’s guitar playing.

Alice in Chains and RATM were both part of the bill at Lollapalooza 1993, an experience Morello cites as formative given it was the politically charged outfit’s first major tour, but it also marked an influential time for Staley’s development as a guitar player.

“I remember, during that tour, Layne really had a shine for you,” Cantrell recalls. “He wanted to play guitar more, and he was kind of intimidated because he didn’t play that much guitar, but he really was turned on by how you played guitar – I was a little hurt by that. [Laughs]”

“But I remember that, and you gave him the spark to learn how to play guitar and write more songs.”

Staley, who favored Gibson SG and Les Paul models, wrote and played guitar on Alice in Chains’ Angry Chair, Hate to Feel and Head Creeps, and also performed on Mad Season’s I Don’t Know Anything during their performance at the Moore Theater in Seattle.

Elsewhere in the interview, Morello shared some of his own memories of Staley during the run.

“He and I had a lot of laughs on that tour, man,” he enthused. “We would have a daily argument of who was more metal: him or me. It would be part metal trivia and part posturing, but I remember that very very fondly.”

Staley and Morello would eventually join forces in supergroup Class of ’99 to record a cover of Pink Floyd’s Another Brick in the Wall (Part 2) for 1998 sci-fi horror flick The Faculty. It became one of Staley’s final studio appearances prior to his death in April 2002.

To hear Cantrell and Morello’s conversation in full, check out Tom Morello’s Maximum Firepower podcast.

In this saddening except from Alice in Chains: The Untold Story, author David De Sola recounts the final gloomy days of frontman Layne Staley.

In April of 1997, an entity known as the Larusta Trust bought a three bedroom, 1,500 square-foot fifth-floor condominium at a building in Seattle’s University District for $262,000.

A review of the property records, when cross-referenced with Alice in Chains album liner notes and other public records, shows that the Larusta Trust shared the same Bellevue address as the business entity AIC Touring Inc. and VWC Management, a business management and accounting firm that has counted Alice in Chains among its clients in the past.

Larusta was a reference to John Larusta, the alias Layne was using at the time, according to Ken Elmer. The property was acquired through this roundabout mechanism presumably to keep Layne’s name off any public records associated with the transaction. This condo would be Layne’s home for the final five years of his life.

At some point after Layne moved in, producer Toby Wright set up a home recording studio for him. Wright described it as, “I think he had some [Alesis Digital Audio Tapes] up there, a small console. I set up guitar paths, I set up a couple of vocal paths, and I think I had a keyboard path as well, and some multiple things where he could just go in, hit a button and record… He had a little drum machine and that kind of thing, he used to do demos.”

Alice in Chains guitarist Jerry Cantrell seemingly confirmed the existence of Layne solo recordings or demos during a 2010 interview, saying, “I’d fucking go over to his place and he’d be playing me shit he’d be writing all the time. I would too. He’d play me stuff, I’d play him stuff, vice-versa.” He did not specify the period when he heard these recordings, if they were from the period when Alice in Chains was still active or if they were from Layne’s later years.

Jerry also said in the same interview that there are no more unreleased Alice in Chains recordings with Layne’s vocals, although drummer Sean Kinney did not entirely rule out the possibility. “If there is, it’s nothing that we would want, or he would have wanted released.”

Jamie, Jim and Ken Elmer [Layne’s step-brother] are unaware of any solo demos Layne might have recorded during his later years, though he had the means to do so. The one person that would know for sure is his mother, who declined to be interviewed for this book. Layne did at least one confirmed guest recording from this period.

His friend Jesse Holt - known as Maxi when he was the singer/guitarist of Second Coming - was working on a new project under the moniker the Despisley Brothers -the name presumably a play on the R&B group the Isley Brothers. Layne re-recorded his guest vocal for the chorus of the song The Things You Do, which is musically different from the version he recorded with Ron Holt in 1988.

There are at least two recorded versions of this song, the first from the spring or summer of 1996, the second dated November 3, 1997. Musically and lyrically, the two later versions are the same. Stylistically, Layne’s vocals sound very different from any of his previous work. The difference is that in the 1997 version, he sounds indifferent, with no real power or feeling in the performance.

Jason Buttino, who has recordings of both versions, attributes the change to the fact the second version was recorded more than a year after the death of Demri Parrott, Layne’s longtime girlfriend. Buttino also said Jesse Holt - who declined to be interviewed for this book - had to boost the level on Layne’s vocals in the 1997 version because his voice was so soft and quiet.

Soundgarden broke up in spring of 1997 amidst rising tensions. The band played what at the time was their final show in Honolulu on February 9. Chris Cornell decided to call it quits shortly after. Susan Silver Management and A&M Records issued a joint statement announcing the split.

In October of 1997, according to a report in the Seattle Times, Susan was a panelist during a discussion about rock management at North By Northwest Music and Media Conference. Susan responded to a questioner saying her gender never blocked her progress - “It didn't even enter my sphere of reality.” The report also notes, “She also hinted, with a sigh, that Alice is about to ‘self-destruct.’ ”

That fall, Susan announced she was closing down her management business. The news was mentioned in the Lip Service section of The Rocket, which also made the sarcastic comment, “Sources within the company report that Silver will close up the shop near the end of December. Sure, Soundgarden don’t need a manager anymore, but who will burp and change Alice in Chains?”

At some point after that edition was published, the magazine received a package containing a jar of urine and a bag of feces. It also included a note, which read, “Wipe and change this, motherfuckers!” The assumption is it came from Layne.

Susan Silver Management organized a Christmas party that year, held at a bar in the U District. Randy Biro, a musician who contributed vocals to the 1994 AIC EP Jar of Flies, went to the party, along with his former roommate Kevin Shuss, who has worked with Alice in Chains and Pearl Jam over the years.

“Hey, Layne wants to see you,” Shuss told Biro at the party.

“Great, where is he?”

“He’s right behind you.”

Biro turned around. “I’m looking past this really skinny, fucked-up looking guy trying to see where Layne is, and it was Layne. I felt really awkward.”

“He had a baseball cap on, he had glasses down to the end of his nose, and not very many teeth. It shocked me at first. It looked like death. It was gross.” Jim Elmer doesn’t know exactly when Layne’s tooth loss started, but thinks it was around 1995 or 1996 and said it was a gradual process.

Layne invited Biro to check out his condo, which was around the corner from the bar. He described Layne as being very proud about his home. Layne had a massive rear-projection TV. “The fucking thing was huge. I’d never seen a TV that big. He had gotten it through the label some way, and all he did was sit there and get high and play video games all day.”

Biro, who was clean, asked, “Wow, have you got anything?” - referring to drugs.

“Yeah, but I’m not gonna give it to you.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re clean. I’m not gonna be part of this. If you need to go do that, you do it somewhere else. I don’t want to be part of it. I don’t want you to end up like me again.” That was the last time Biro saw him.

With Alice in Chains on hiatus, Jerry Cantrell called Toby Wright. “He was compiling songs for a while, and then he just called me up and asked if I would help out with a solo record, which I gladly did,” Wright said.

Jerry tapped Sean to play drums, and a series of guest musicians to record parts, including Mike Inez, Fishbone’s Norwood Fisher, Pantera’s Rex Brown, and Primus’ Les Claypool. Three of the four members of Alice in Chains were appearing on this album, with the exception of Layne.

“At that point, they weren’t really speaking for whatever reason. There was some kind of something going on. I don’t know the cause of it or why,” was Wright’s explanation for whether or not Jerry tried to get Layne onboard. Wright said there was more pressure on Jerry because in addition to being the main songwriter and guitarist, he had to sing.

The album was titled Boggy Depot - a reference to the area of Oklahoma where Jerry’s father grew up. Rocky Schenck, Mary Mauer and a crew traveled to Atoka, Oklahoma, on September 7, 1997, to shoot photos for the album.

“Great trip, although all of us almost got arrested for smuggling liquor into a local restaurant in a dry county,” Schenck wrote. The cover shows Jerry covered in mud standing waist-deep in a branch of the Boggy River. Jerry made several trips to Oklahoma as he was writing the album, and would drive his truck to the edge of the river at the location where the cover was shot.

Jerry sent Rex Brown a tape with 11 songs he wanted him to play on. Brown agreed to do it, seeing it as an opportunity to expand his horizons and also to get away from some of the issues in Pantera. He went to Sausalito, California, to record his parts.

According to Brown’s memoir, he was butting heads with Toby Wright during the making of the album. He also noted Jerry was dealing with his own addiction: “Let’s just say I would go past his place from time to time and see his dog chained up with no food in the bowl for three fucking days, and that indicated to me that maybe something was seriously wrong.”

By the time the album was finished, Wright said, “A lot of anxiety was pent up during the recording, about its outcome, its success rate, expectations, all that kind of stuff. And I think once it was done, mixed, [Jerry] approved everything, I think it was a great relief to him.” The album, originally scheduled for an October 1997 release, was delayed to the following spring.

Boggy Depot was released April 7, 1998, reaching number 28 on the Billboard chart its first week. After the album’s release, Jerry made clear that Alice in Chains was his priority, but would not give a definitive answer on the status of the band at the time. “It’s something I never really wanted to do, but the way things have played out, it's like, why not?” he told Guitar World of his decision to do a solo album.

“To be honest, I’d just be happy being the lead guitarist and singer for Alice in Chains. It’s always been my first love, and always will be, but the situation being what it is…we’ve been together for a long time, and right now it’s kinda played out. It’s time to let it be.”

Asked if the band had broken up, he said, “We haven’t gone public and said that we’ve broken up, because how do you call something like that over? You never want to shut that door. I love those guys, and hopefully we’ll be able to do something again, but it won’t be for a while.” He declined to answer questions about Layne’s health.

Rocky Schenck directed the music video for My Song, which was shot on location in Los Angeles on June 6 and 7, 1998. “I can remember the record company being very upset with me about the concept, telling me that it ‘would never play on MTV,’ ” Schenck wrote. Jerry supported Schenck throughout the project and it was filmed as planned. There is a second version of the video, “a bit racier” than the edited version that aired on MTV.

To support the album, Jerry put together a live band consisting of Sean, former Queensrÿche guitarist Chris DeGarmo, Old Lady Litterbug bassist Nick Rhinehart, and former Fishbone keyboardist Chris Dowd. The group landed an opening slot for Metallica’s U.S. tour which ran from June through September of 1998. Jerry would often close shows with a cover of Pink Floyd’s Brain Damage and Eclipse, the last two songs on The Dark Side of the Moon.

In August of 1998, Dave Jerden, Bryan Carlstrom and Annette Cisneros were working on the Offspring’s Americana album at Jerden’s El Dorado studio. Jerden got a call: Alice in Chains wanted to record two new songs with Layne for Music Bank, their upcoming box set. With the exception of Mike Inez, it would be a reunion of the band and production team that made Dirt six years earlier.

Because The Offspring had booked studio time and had all their gear set up, the only time Alice in Chains could come in was the weekend of August 22-23. The Offspring agreed to let Alice in Chains use the studio. The fact both bands were signed to Columbia Records probably helped make that happen.

For Jerden, it was a no-brainer. “We gotta do this,” he told his engineer Bryan Carlstrom. Carlstrom was tired from working long hours and originally did not want to do it, until Jerden convinced him otherwise. “I basically told him you have to do it. It’s the only time in my life where I ever said that to Bryan.”

Jerden was under the impression the band was going to be there the entire weekend, based on what he heard from his manager who had talked to Susan. His plan was to record a song a day - basic tracks, overdubs and mixing. Because Carlstrom was burned out, Jerden was prepared to mix the songs himself.

Early in the morning of Saturday, August 22, assistant engineer Cisneros and Elan Trujillo, the runner and studio assistant, came in and thoroughly documented all of the levels and settings on the Offspring’s gear and the control room equipment before they could take everything down and set up for Alice in Chains.

Trujillo was excited. He had moved back to Los Angeles specifically to work with Dave Jerden, in large part because of Jerden’s work with Jane’s Addiction and Alice in Chains. Two years later, he had the opportunity to work with Alice in Chains.

“I had to contain myself as best I could, because I was like freaking out. For me, this young kid, and like one of my favorite bands of all time is gonna come in, like I’m gonna be able to work with these guys? This is it! This was the culmination of the whole deal,” Trujillo said, the enthusiasm still evident in his voice years later.

The production team was ready to work by 10 o’clock in the morning. Sean’s drum tech Jimmy Shoaf and Jerry’s guitar tech Darrel Peters were the first to arrive, and set up all their gear. That day also happened to be Layne’s thirty-first birthday. When Trujillo found out, he told Cisneros they should get him a cake. She agreed, and gave him money to buy a cake and candles.

Jerry, Sean and Mike arrived in the late morning or early afternoon. Sean got all his parts down in about four takes, Shoaf recalled. Mike recorded his bass parts, and then Jerry recorded his rhythm guitar parts and some overdubs. Cisneros had her camera and took several photos during the session.

There was a sense of excitement before Layne arrived. Accounts vary as to the exact time he got there, but it was late - possibly as late as 3 A.M. according to Jerden. When he finally arrived, the change in his physical appearance was striking even from his final live performances two years earlier, let alone from 1992 when Jerden, Carlstrom and Cisneros had last seen him.

He had grown his hair down past his shoulders, in its natural brownish-blonde color. He was wearing a white cap and eyeglasses. He had a dark grey shirt and a blue Dallas Cowboys jacket. He was wearing a necklace or chain that had what appeared to be a pipe hanging from the end. He was also carrying a black leather satchel.

“Layne showed up at the studio and I didn’t recognize him. He looked like an 80-year-old man. He didn’t have any teeth. I was shocked, to say the least,” Carlstrom recalled.

Trujillo had a similar reaction. “When Layne came in, we were all really shocked because Layne definitely didn’t look like how he used to look. He had obviously been really affected by his substance abuse at that point, because he had atrophy in his legs. He looked like an old man. He had no teeth. It was really sad, I was really heartbroken.” Although Layne was “obviously high,” Jimmy Shoaf said there were flashes of the Layne of old. “I think the first thing he did was grab my ass. Layne was still inside that shell. The humor and his wit were in there.”

Trujillo also noted how Layne could appear out of it, then be focused seconds later. They had ordered baked potatoes, and people wanted butter. Trujillo put the butter in the microwave to defrost it, when Layne, who was sitting in the kitchen lounge seemingly not paying attention, said to him, “You better be careful, man. That’s got tinfoil on it. That’ll be dangerous in the microwave.” Layne also talked to Trujillo about video games - there was a Sony Playstation in the studio lounge, and Layne was giving him tips for how to get ahead in certain games.

They set Layne up in a control room so he could listen to the rough tracks and work on lyrics. Trujillo was tasked with keeping an eye on him and helping him. Shortly after, Layne went to the bathroom and stayed there for a long time. He eventually went back to the control room, where he found the mini-fridge stocked with sodas. Layne took out a bottle of root beer. Cisneros and Trujillo saw him sitting on a couch in the control room having nodded off, the root beer spilled on the floor. Trujillo cleaned it up.

Offspring drummer Ron Welty’s V drums were set up in the control room to practice or develop his parts. V drums are a small electronic drum kit which can be programmed with different sound effects from a memory bank. Layne started playing around with the kit. Trujillo showed him how to change and program the different sounds. Layne went nuts when he discovered he could program cartoon effects for the different pads.

“That’s what he really liked - the cartoon sounds,” Trujillo said. “He just got a kick out of that. He was just scrolling through the bank sounds on the little brain of the V drums, and just trying everything. He fucking loved it, he was like, ‘This is great. I want to get one of these. Where do these come from?’ ”

The other members of Alice in Chains and their crew were watching this, happy to see Layne happy and having fun. Shortly after, they brought out the cake and sang Happy Birthday and gave him a birthday card that they had all signed. Cisneros took a picture of Layne on the drumset as he was about to blow out the candles.

While Layne was playing around, he showed no indication of being ready to work. Eventually, Layne said he wanted to do everything - write lyrics and track his vocals - that night. By that point, it was almost five o’clock in the morning, and everyone was exhausted, some having been in the studio for almost 20 hours. Jerden, under the impression they still had the next day to work, met with the band and decided to call it a night, telling them Carlstrom was tired and they’d come back and finish on Sunday.

At that point, Layne said he had to go back to Seattle to attend his sister’s wedding, but Jerry tersely cut him off. According to Jerden, he said, “Laaaaaayne,” in an exasperated tone of voice.

“[Layne] turned into this little kid that had been reprimanded severely by his parents. It probably didn’t sound like anything, but I’ll tell you it was one of the strangest things I ever saw, how Jerry just wasn’t putting up with Layne’s bullshit anymore, and Layne who had such a strong personality had completely turned into this nothing.”

“He wasn’t crying, but he looked like he was about to cry. He reverted to about a four-year-old boy,” Jerden explained. “Layne acted like he was afraid, terrified of Jerry. He just sat there and froze up. I don’t remember him saying another thing that night. Jerry totally understood me, he was cool with the fact that we had to stop and he didn’t argue with me at all. Jerry did not argue, the rest of the band did not argue. He knew that I’d been told that I had Layne until Sunday, and that bullshit of him saying all of the sudden, he has to go to a wedding?”

“So I blew up and I said, ‘Listen, I’m not here to be your friend. I have a job to do,’” he told Layne. Trujillo thinks Layne may have thought Jerden was mad at him, possibly from memories of the blowup during the Dirt sessions when Jerden confronted him about his drug use.

Jerden was skeptical, thinking Layne was using the wedding as an excuse so he could go back to Seattle to get drugs. Whatever his intentions were, evidence shows Jerden’s skepticism was accurate. According to public records from the King County Recorder’s office, Liz Elmer and her fiancée Greg Coats applied for a marriage license on May 26, 1998, were married on June 1, and filed the marriage certificate on June 11 - more than two months before this recording session.

According to Layne’s other sister Jamie Elmer, “They got married just at the justice of the peace, and they had their two best friends there. Nobody else was there.”

“I’ve seen pictures of my sister and her husband Greg in the court. And it’s with her best friend, and Greg's friend. But it was the four of them, and I’m pretty darn sure that Layne wasn’t there.”

There was a wedding party in mid-June that “Layne very well may have planned on coming to, but didn’t make it to, because that’s just sometimes what would happen. So, to his credit, he may have definitely been trying to get there for a wedding party, or that was his plan. But I don’t remember him there.” Jim Elmer, Ken Elmer and Kathleen Austin also attended the party. All three of them said Layne was not there.

At that point, the band members left. Jerden tried to book a studio in Seattle for Layne’s convenience to record his vocals, but by that point Layne didn’t want to work with him anymore. Susan was furious.

“Susan Silver called me up and read me the fucking riot act. She says my career was based on Alice in Chains, which is totally bullshit. I’ve worked with a lot of famous people before that. I had a lot of hit records that I produced before,” Jerden recalled. Rolling Stone got wind of the episode and wrote a story about it.”

Toby Wright got a call from Layne and Kevan Wilkins, asking if he would be willing to finish the project.

He booked time at Robert Lang Studios to record the vocals and mix it with the material from the session with Jerden.

“At that point, Jerry and Layne weren’t getting along at all. So I had one guy in, and I would have another guy in, after he was done. Those two songs required a lot of Pro Tools editing. That was one of the first times Alice was ever even on Pro Tools. Because Layne would do something, he’d go home, Jerry would come in, I’d change it for him, he’d go home. Layne would come in and hear what we did, and he’d change it again. So it was a lot of digital manipulation,” Wright said.

Recording Layne’s vocals was difficult because of the loss of his teeth, which resulted in a lisp that affected his speech and singing ability. Consequently, they tried to stay away from lyrics that accentuated his lisp.

“It was kind of hard to do that, because it shows up pretty much everywhere on those tracks. But it was easy for me because Layne and I got along really well. So I didn’t have any problem with him at all. It was just a matter of getting him into the studio, having him sit down and get creative.”

Get Born Again and Died were the last songs Layne recorded with Alice in Chains.

From Alice in Chains by David de Sola. Copyright © 2015 by the author and reprinted by permission of Thomas Dunne Books, an imprint of St. Martin’s Press, LLC.