Alice in Chains

by David de Sola

  Diamond Lie’s original bassist quit sometime later. Shortly after this, Matt Muasau’s sister met Jerry and told him, “My brother is a really good bass player. Why don’t you talk to him?” A meeting was arranged, the two hit it off and began writing music, and Muasau got the job, for which he used the stage name Matt Mustapha.

  The band relocated to a new rehearsal space in a rented basement in somebody’s house in Spanaway. The owner of the house, who Muasau said they called Big Mike, was the band’s unofficial manager and handled their bookings. Nutter described the band’s image and sound as “any of the glam bands that were big at the time. Poison. Not really Mötley Crüe—we were more pop, chick rock, that kind of thing.” Their set included covers of Sweet’s “Fox on the Run” and KISS’s “Rock and Roll All Nite.” Jerry was already writing songs at the time. According to Nutter, “I would say [Jerry] would write half of it or more, and then bring it to the band. They would work it out, and then I would add vocals to the top.”

  Nesbitt said Jerry became the band’s leader fairly soon after joining. “I really liked Jerry a lot. I was not used to Jerry’s brashness. He definitely was the leader, and he let you know how he felt, but he wasn’t an asshole. He wasn’t a yelling kind of guy. But he was in his own way kind of intimidating because he was so confident.

  “Jerry knew exactly what he wanted to do,” he said. “He basically wrote all the material. He took over the whole songwriting process. It wasn’t a bad thing or anything, because he was such an excellent songwriter. He could crank out a song. Every practice, he came back with new songs.

  “Being in Diamond Lie was like being in the army. We worked our asses off. It was regimented; we had a goal. We worked our butts off to be the best. I’d say Jerry was kind of the general. He knew exactly what it took to get to that point,” Nesbitt said. Jerry set up large mirrors in their practice space so they could see for themselves how they looked performing live and make improvements as necessary. “I was horrified at the faces I was making while I was playing drums that I never even knew about,” Nesbitt said.

  According to Muasau, “Jerry was always professional, and he wanted to make sure the show was professional. So when we hit the stage, it wasn’t just a band getting up there and jamming. It was a band getting up there and putting on a show. We were entertainers as much as we were musicians and songwriters.” Jerry also had the band working on stage choreography. He and Muasau worked out a move where they would toss their guitar picks at each other while standing about ten feet apart in the middle of a song, catch it, and keep playing.

  Things didn’t always go according to plan. During one performance, Muasau and Jerry were doing the KISS move where everyone is swaying back and forth in synch with one another. Jerry and Muasau got out of rhythm, and eventually each wound up doing the opposite of the other while about two feet apart. Muasau felt the headstock of his bass hit something solid, a feeling he compared to hitting a baseball.

  It was Jerry’s head he’d hit, giving him a cut right above his eyebrow, which began to bleed. According to Muasau, “The crowd was like, ‘Yeah, go on, man, kill yourself for us!’” Someone put a bandage on the cut and stopped the bleeding, and Jerry was able to finish the set.

  At another gig, the band was told there would be pyro. Before the set, they were told to pay attention to the markers placed on the stage, noting that Nutter, Muasau, and Jerry had to be standing on those markers at specific times in the show. During the start of the performance, the pyro went off, but Muasau wasn’t on his marker.

  “The crowd was just … their eyes got really big, and I went, ‘Wow, what did I do?’ Then all of a sudden, all these sparks started falling all around me like snow. I had enough hair spray in my hair, and I had enough hair back then to where I would have exploded,” Muasau said. He, however, avoided disaster, where others—Michael Jackson and Metallica’s James Hetfield—suffered severe burns and had to be hospitalized.

  Diamond Lie would typically practice five nights a week, with rehearsals lasting as long as three hours. They started playing shows in Tacoma and Seattle with the ultimate goal of getting a record deal. They got to the point where they were playing weekly gigs. At some time during this period, they became friends with a guy named Steve Frost, who would regularly come to their rehearsals. Frost had recently received money from an inheritance, and he gave Diamond Lie two thousand dollars to record a demo.

  The band went into London Bridge Studios and recorded a four-song demo. “It came out really great. I was excited by it. We had the guitar player from a band called Perennial, Schuyler Duryee came out, and he kind of produced it for us, along with Rick and Raj Parashar,” Nesbitt recalled. “Perennial was a big deal. They had a song on [Seattle radio station KISW] that was in the [station’s] top ten. That was really probably my very first experience at being in a recording studio.”

  Jerry was already thinking of public relations. “When I was hanging out with him, he was a charismatic person, and people are pretty naturally attracted to talk with him and hang out with him, and he knows what he’s doing,” Nesbitt recalled. “I never thought in a million years I would walk through Tacoma Mall wearing spandex with holes cut in my ass passing out cassette tapes and flyers and not getting my ass beat in. That’s exactly what we ended up doing. We walked through there. He just said, ‘Be confident; do what I do,’ and I did. I’m talking with full makeup and hair stacked three miles high.”

  Muasau recalls a show where he was wearing a black leather outfit and Jerry was wearing a very tight white leather outfit. “Golly, man, aren’t you uncomfortable in that? It’s hot,” he asked. “Yeah, but I look good in this,” was Jerry’s response. That was when he knew Jerry was going to make it and be successful as a musician.

  Nesbitt and Nutter both described Jerry as extremely close to his mother, and they recall her being very encouraging of him. “Just a cool mom. Really supportive of what Jerry wanted to do,” Nutter said.

  “I remember his mom, and I know that he wanted to show his mom that he could do this. He was really adamant. I remember him one day telling her, ‘I’m going to become the best songwriter, and the best this and that, and you’re going to see it happen,’” Nesbitt recalled. “She was a really nice person, and she seemed to kind of light up around him.”

  By the time he turned twenty-one, Jerry had been hit by two family tragedies within six months of each other. First, his grandmother, Dorothy Krumpos, a retired secretary and lifelong resident of the Tacoma and Eatonville area, died of cancer on October 9, 1986. Not long after her death, his mother said she had six months to live after being diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer. “She and my grandmother both spent most of their time in the house in the medical bed doped up on morphine and wasting away daily,” Jerry said of this painful period. He coped with the situation by playing guitar ten to twelve hours a night.14

  According to Nesbitt, Jerry kept his personal family turmoil to himself. “I found out she was sick right before she passed away.” This description is consistent with what Matt Muasau recalls. Jerry started coming over to his house regularly, where they would hang out and write music. Eventually, Muasau asked him, “Hey, man, don’t you got to go home?”

  “Nah, this is my home now,” Jerry responded. Muasau started picking him up at his house and helping him move some of his things out. As Jerry was spending more time at Muasau’s house, his sister, Cheri, would pick him up so he could see their mother. Jerry told Rolling Stone that after tensions had been brewing between him and his relatives as his mother’s health was deteriorating, he was kicked out of the house. Jerry moved out at some point before his mother’s death.15

  “Me and my mom said our good-byes a while ago,” he told Muasau.

  “Well, don’t you want to be there for her?”

  “No, me and my mom said our good-byes already.”

  On April 11, 1987, Gloria Jean Cantrell died of complications from pancreatic cancer. She was forty-three years old
. According to her obituary in the Tacoma News Tribune, she was an administrative assistant for the Clover Park School District and “was active in many sports … she loved music and was a beautiful seamstress.”16 Jerry’s bandmates went to the memorial service to support him. “I felt really bad for him. I know it hit him really hard. I felt really honored that he invited us to be there as his friends, because I know it meant a lot to him and it meant a lot to us to be there and put our hands on him, let him know it was going to be okay. It was a pretty deep moment for all of us,” Nesbitt said.

  About three weeks later, Jerry went to see Alice ’N Chains perform at the Tacoma Little Theatre, at what Nick Pollock thinks would have been one of the band’s final shows. After the show, Pollock went out to talk to people and to try and pick up girls by inviting them to an after party. Pollock would play the crucial role of introducing Layne and Jerry to each other later that summer.

  “I met Jerry in the back. He came up and introduced himself to me. We traded numbers. He was really polite and kind and complimentary,” Pollock recalled. He described Jerry as “a very mannered, polite fella with very whitish-blond hair, all pouffed up because that’s the way we all wore our hair and stuff, glamlike. Nice guy, wearing cowboy boots, tight jeans, a long trench coat that was kind of a military type, T-shirt—dressing like everybody dressed, I think, at the time. And he was a cool guy.”

  According to Nutter, the death of Jerry’s mother was the beginning of the end of Diamond Lie, because of the profound impact it had on his personality and his music.

  “His grandmother died and then his mom died, and he basically went into, as anybody would, a sort of depression. He just changed [into] a completely different person after that,” Nutter explained. “What he did was, he wrote the songs, and he handed them to us on a tape, and, ‘These are the songs; learn them.’” Nutter empathized with him. “I would think if something like that happened, you’d want to be able to control something in your life.”

  Jerry also had a strong sense of foresight in terms of the musical landscape. “He said what he thought the next thing would be. That’s his genius, I would say,” Nutter explained. “When he came to us, he says, ‘You know what’s going on is this band called Poison coming up, blah, blah, blah.’ That’s right before they hit it big, so we started doing that. And then right when his mother died, he said, ‘Hey, there’s this band called Guns n’ Roses. They’re coming up.’ Nobody knew of them yet, but he knew of them. He said people were wearing streetwear, like jeans and T-shirts or whatever as opposed to the glam leg-wear. We were like, ‘That’s crazy. That’s just too out there. We’re supposed to have a show, wear costumes like KISS or whatever.’

  “I think it was the look. He said, ‘The singer from Guns n’ Roses sounds like a male Janis Joplin.’ And he said that he was more into the way they looked as opposed to the way they sounded, though the sound was appealing to him, too.”

  Nesbitt said there was also a change in Jerry’s music. “I think when his mom died, it completely changed his songwriting. His songwriting completely went in a whole different direction. It wasn’t ‘Let’s party, have some drinks, screw girls.’ It was more reality, I guess you could say. It changed. And that’s when his whole look and everything changed.”

  Diamond Lie did at least one show with Jerry after his mother’s death, shortly before his move to Seattle. According to a Ticketmaster ad in the June 1987 edition of The Rocket, Diamond Lie was on the bill for the Capital Rock-Off set to take place at St. Martin’s Pavilion in Lacey on the Fourth of July, with proceeds benefiting the Crisis Clinic of Thurston and Mason Counties. Also on the bill were Heir Apparent, Hammerhead, and Slaughter Haus 5. This would be another chance encounter that would foreshadow Jerry’s future, because his band would be competing against Russ Klatt’s, who had coined the name Alice in Chains a few months earlier.

  Diamond Lie’s short biography in the ad, which misspells Jerry’s name, reads: “Diamond Lie is an exciting rock and roll dynamo with fiery licks and catchy melodies. On stage they generate a tight show that is topped off by lead vocalist Scott Damon’s power vocals and fluid presentation. Terry Contrell (guitar), Matt Mustapha (bass), and Randy Nesbitt (drum) complete the band. The group’s four song EP has generated strong interest from Atlantic and CBS. ‘Chain Love,’ a blistering example of their song writing, is reminiscent of early Dokken, and ‘Get It Straight’ is a grinding tune that’s sure to get bodies moving. Watch out for these guys … they’re out for a good time and nothing’s going to stop them.”17

  According to Nesbitt, Slaughter Haus 5 were the favorites to win. He didn’t think that was Diamond Lie’s best performance, noting he had made a few mistakes. Diamond Lie pulled off the upset and won it. They received a cash prize and a few hours of free recording time at a local studio, but it was a moot point because the band was falling apart. On top of the issues with Jerry, right before they took the stage, Muasau told them a band he was friends with was moving to the area and they wanted to hire him for studio work. Nesbitt and Nutter weren’t happy about it, but they didn’t get upset. This wound up being Diamond Lie’s final performance. They broke up a few days later. At some point after moving to Seattle, Jerry tried to get Diamond Lie back together for a show. According to Nutter, “We just said no. We were kind of done with it, because at that time we wanted to have a little more involvement with the songs. We wanted to be part of the writing process, instead of just, ‘Here’s the next song; here’s the next song.’ So he said, ‘Okay.’ Bam, hit Alice in Chains and made it superhuge, and we never did. So it’s kind of like that fork in the road where he took a right and we took a left.”

  Jerry offered the following account of the events leading to the formation of Alice in Chains:

  I met Layne when he played the Tacoma Little Theatre in Tacoma. So I met him first, but I actually played with Mike Starr first in a really crappy band called Gypsy Rose in Burien. My mother had just passed away, and I didn’t really have anyplace to stay, and I kind of was done with Tacoma anyway, so I met this guy Tim Branom. He invited me to come up and hang with him, and I stayed in his basement for about a week, and Mike Starr came over and we were jamming, and then we both got kicked out after a week.18

  Jerry and Mike’s tenure in Gypsy Rose is a bit more nuanced than this account. In the summer of 1987, Gypsy Rose singer Tim Branom and drummer Mike Gersema were looking for a bass player, and Mike Starr happened to be nearby and available. Their guitarist, Brock Graue, knew Mike from high school and had been in a band with him.

  Michael Christopher Starr was born April 4, 1966, in Honolulu, Hawaii—the first child of John and Gayle Starr—and his sister, Melinda, was born three years to the day later. After his parents split up, Mike lived with his father before moving to the Seattle area when he was around nine years old. His father bought him his first bass guitar. He formed his first band with his best friend Paul Parkinson and named it Cyprus. Jim Hacker, another childhood friend with whom he would listen to Jimi Hendrix and Van Halen, would later recall Mike telling him, “‘When I grow up, I’m going to be a rock star just like them!’ It was never a pilot, astronaut, doctor. Mike knew what he wanted to be. There was never a doubt in his mind.”19

  “All I wanted to do twenty-four hours a day was play music,” Mike told Mark Yarm.20 According to Mike’s friend Aaron Woodruff, Van Halen was probably a big inspiration in Mike’s decision to become a musician. Woodruff, who met Mike when they both attended Highline High School, described him as “bigger than life.” Mike was a sophomore or junior, but he was something of a celebrity on campus because he was the bass player in SATO. Even in this early stage of his career, Mike already had a reputation for being a ladies’ man. His drug use at the time was limited to marijuana and alcohol, Woodruff said, although some time later, Mike took some pills and then walked into Woodruff’s house and took his guitar. After he sobered up and realized what happened, he returned the guitar to Woodruff.

  According to
Ken Kramer, SATO’s guitarist, “We were jamming in Danny and Dave [Jensen’s] mom’s garage, a couple of blocks away from where Gayle lived, and this kid would constantly come down the road and hang out and sit outside: ‘I play bass. I can play. I’m gonna be a rock star someday.’ After two or three months of that, I actually bought into it.”

  In 1982, Mike, Kramer, and guitarist Terry Hildebrand formed SATO—named after the Ozzy Osbourne song—and the band began performing in the Seattle area. One of the band’s flyers featured the catchphrase “Don’t Say No … SATO,” an idea which was credited to John Starr. Its members were between sixteen and twenty-one years old at the time but acted like professional musicians, practicing four or five nights a week, according to a 1983 article about the band published in The Profile. The band played their first show on November 20, 1982—a Battle of the Bands held at the Crossroads Skating Center in Bellevue—and won it, as reported by the December 1, 1982, edition of the Hit Line Times. They received a $1,000 gift certificate and a $500 photo session to promote the band. In its first year, SATO performed at the Seattle Arena, the Spokane Convention Center, and the Showbox and won the Washington State Battle of the Bands, held at the Moore Theatre in Seattle on December 3, 1982. The band used lights, pyrotechnics, and fog machines for their shows and, like many bands of that period, wore spandex and had well-rehearsed stage choreography. They recorded their original song “Halloween” at Entertainment Plus Studio on April 21, 1983. “Leather Warrior” was recorded at Triad Studios in January 1984.21

  At some point in 1983 or 1984, Jeff Gilbert was working at Penny Lane Records when he put out a call for local bands to submit a song for a compilation album he was producing called Northwest Metalfest. SATO’s was one of the hundreds of tapes he received. “I went through and picked out the ten bands, because I wanted to represent a wide range of all the different styles of hard rock and metal. I was really young at the time; whatever sounded polished or pro I went with,” Gilbert said. “Leather Warrior” made the cut. According to Gilbert, “They were just kids. They were just trying to invoke the most powerful words or imagery. They didn’t even know what they were saying or doing. I had to laugh. They were so popular—I mean, they had ladies all over the place. So I thought, ‘If I put them on the record, I’m going to sell lots of records.’” The Northwest Metalfest album was released in 1984. It was at some point after Mike was out of SATO that he joined Gypsy Rose. By the time Mike joined Alice in Chains, he was probably the most experienced musician of the four founding members.22