The death of Alice In Chains frontman Layne Staley, first reported last Friday, surprised very few people. Still, the mere fact of his long-term struggle with heroin and the more salacious bits of the story—reports that his body had been lying in his U District home for as much as two weeks, and persistent rumors that he had lost hair, teeth, and even fingers to addiction long before—seem to have overtaken pretty much every other aspect of his life and career. Which, of course, is what the drug does, but it still sucks. To see a human being reduced to a Celebrity Dead Pool punchline is monumentally depressing, and an astute comment, we guess, on the downfalls of heroin abuse, but also a reminder that Staley wasn't so hopelessly pass頩n his addictions as people may like to think: A long and illustrious Seattle tradition of smack-addled rock-star deaths doesn't seem to have stopped a recent miniresurgence of the drug amongst local scenesters, and we're hoping (but not holding our breath) that, if anything, his death will scare a few of these new dabblers straight. Either way, Staley still deserves to be remembered for everything else he was about before the needle and the damage done, so break out Dirt or Unplugged if you've got it and give him an hour in memoriam. . . . OK—since you can get your Staley in-depth coverage from just about every news source on the planet right now, we'll move on to the fluffer you know and tolerate us for: June 29 is when Seattle (or rather, George, Wash.'s Gorge Amphitheatre) gets to witness in person the wild traveling freak circus that is to be the Sammy Hagar/ Dave Lee Roth joint tour, grandly dubbed "Song for Song: The Heavyweight Champs of Rock and Roll." It may please you to know that Roth showed up at the pair's L.A. press conference last Tuesday with, according to CNN, "three bodyguards, three masked catwomen in fluorescent unitards, and a beer-drinking midget
sporting an Andy Warhol wig," while Hagar came alone, looking like he'd just flown in straight from a mellow "Cheeseburger in Paradise" moment at his bucolic Mexican home. Roth, having alternately referred to Hagar in the past as "a mediocre talent," "a complete failure," "a mindless little bridge-troll drone," and "my bitch," has apparently had a change of heart, saying of his and his new pal's plan for global domination, "Between the two of us, what you have is quintessential Americana. You couldn't pick a more appropriate time for that." Tickets go on sale through Ticketmaster April 27. . . . Late-breaking news: Tickets (only $50 to $125!) go on sale this Friday at 10 a.m. for the following Monday (yes, Monday) appearance of the one and only Prince Rogers Nelson, a.k.a. the Artist Formerly Known as a Freaky Symbol. According to the release, the event, billed as "One Night Alone With Prince," will be a stripped-down and unscripted set-list- free show catering to a "sexy, mature audience." Why, that's us! If those words describe you, too, get your trigger finger and your touch-tone phone ready, or try your luck online. . . . And, in news sure not to shock anyone who caught her wildly erratic appearance at this year's SXSW, Dave Grohl and Krist Novoselic (this week's Seattle Weekly restaurant guide cover boy) have asked that Courtney Love submit to a psychiatric examination as part of the threesome's ongoing legal wranglings over the state of Nirvana LLC. Love has already used the fact that she was "stoned" at the time of the partnership's formation to defend her current contentions with the company's management, but the guys say that her current state of mind shows a more serious inability to work with attorneys, managers, and even members of her own band. The pair had previously released a statement claiming that "in her professional dealings, Love is irrational, mercurial, self-centered, unmanageable, inconsistent,
and unpredictable"—now they apparently wish to go one further and have her declared genuinely cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs. God, what we would give to be a fly on the wall of that court-appointed psychiatrist's office. . . . Topping last week's truly icky news of a Dave Grohl/Christina Aguilera lustfest, we are equally illed to report that Melissa Auf Der Mauer and hesher revivalist Andrew W.K. were seen leaving a party together in N.Y.C. last week, looking less than innocent. . . . Our apologies to Onalaska, whom one of our writers incorrectly speculated last week was populated by Botch alumni Dave Knudson and Matt Bayles. Member Tom Harpel tells us that it's actually Minus the Bear members Jake Snider, Corey Murchy, and Erin Tate, plus Stephanie Goldade. . . . While we were getting our minds blown by a truly kick-out-the-jams performance from Les Savy Fav at Graceland Saturday night, we thought frontman Tim Harrington's skimpy wrestling singlet was the height of stage chic. Turns out we were wrong. As Kurt B. Reighley reports, last Thursday's Slice of the Apple extravaganza at the Catwalk was way more, ahem, balls-out: "Out-of-towners DJ Adam Goldstone and drag queen Harmonica Sunbeam were certainly the main attractions appearing in honor of local promoter-performer the Swedish Housewife last Thursday, and the Gothic Cheerleaders were rousing as ever. But it was the Full Monty-style grand finale by the furry-animal-costumed Slice of the Apple dancers that proved to be the big surprise. (OK, maybe not that big . . . it's cold up there.) Pity special guest dancer El Vez turned out to be a Cowardly Lion and didn't drop trou with the rest of the Wild Kingdom." Man, we miss all the good stuff.
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