Illegal Foreign Object

I wasn’t ready for Alice In Chains the first time I heard it. I understood “catchy” — I was listening to Aerosmith and Poison. I understood “heavy” — I was digging on Metallica and Anthrax. I understood “aggressive” — by 1990 I’d been turned on to Black Flag and Circle Jerks. What I wasn’t prepared for was being punched in the face by a band so capable of delivering all three vibes simultaneously, but in August of 1990, Alice In Chains debuted with the album Facelift. It’s a slab of raw emotion and harmonic sludge that delivered the opening jabs that set up Nirvana’s knockout uppercut to Hair Metal.

Despite sticking their toe into the hair band waters in the mid-to-late eighties, the dudes in Alice In Chains instead chose to put their Doc Martens back on, unzip their ragged jeans, and piss in said waters. Borrowing more from Sabbath than KISS or Van Halen, guitarist Jerry Cantrell and the gang bludgeoned concertgoers. When the band’s demo The Treehouse Tapes found its way into the hands of managers Kevin Curtis and Susan Silver, it wasn’t long before Columbia Records came calling.

The label quickly booked studio time with producer Dave Jerden to get a full-length record ready for release (Jerden got the gig after correctly telling Jerry Cantrell that Metallica took Tony Iommi and sped him up — AIC took him and slowed him down).

After seeing how radio took to the beautiful darkness of the band’s promotional EP We Die Young, Columbia made Alice In Chains a priority, putting serious marketing behind “Man In The Box”. It was, at the time, unlike anything being shown on MTV (as well as being the song Cantrell has said helped the band figure out what it was). How could something so heavy still be so damn groovy? I was captivated.

Alice In Chains might’ve needed “nothin’ but a good time”, but Jerry Cantrell and the gang damn sure weren’t gonna write songs about it. They were digging deeper, mining areas of addiction (“Real Thing”), depression (“Love, Hate, Love”), death (“Sunshine”), and futility (“Man In The Box”). Mike Starr and Sean Kinney (who recorded his tracks with a broken hand – “I cut my cast off in the studio and kept a bucket of ice by the drum set”) held down the low end, delivering the thump thump atop which Jerry painted. Vocalist Layne Staley didn’t just sing songs — he was a walking, talking bloodletting, a primal scream, a baring of teeth and soul. His harmonies remain some of the most haunting in the history of music.

When I finally got my copy of Facelift, it lived in my Walkman. I must’ve heard “Love, Hate, Love” 200 times during those 1st few months. Facelift is a great album — “Love, Hate, Love” is a masterpiece. Staley’s tortured wail sounds like a man crawling through a sea of broken glass — uphill.

Despite several hit songs (“We Die Young”, “Man In The Box”, and “Bleed The Freak” were all radio staples), Facelift certainly has moments of immaturity. Filler tracks like “Put You Down” and “I Know Somethin’ (Bout You)” are automatic skips for me and silly reminders of Alice’s failed hairspray days. That said, their inclusion on the album offers the listener a more well-rounded view of the band’s journey to the top of the rock world, a summit they would reach two years later with the release of Dirt.

Track List:

1. We Die Young 10/10
2. Man In The Box 10/10
3. Sea Of Sorrow 9/10
4. Bleed The Freak 9/10
5. I Can’t Remember 9/10
6. Love, Hate, Love 10/10
7. It Ain’t Like That 10/10
8. Sunshine 10/10
9. Put You Down 7/10
10. Confusion 8/10
11. I Know Somethin’ (‘Bout You) 4/10
12. Real Thing 8/10

Grade: 87