We Pay Our Debt Sometimes

I was up one night watching Fuse, back when it was called MuchMusic, on the day that Layne Staley was found dead of a drug overdose. If you didn't know, Staley was the front man for Alice In Chains. Chains was one of four bands (Pearl Jam, Soundgarden and Kurt Cobain's Nirvana) to bring the Seattle grunge sound to the mainstream. Just about every music & entertainment channel had run some kind of retrospective about Staley that day.

I was never fortunate enough to see Alice In Chains perform live. I'd always heard that they were one of the best live, rock bands of their era. There were times when I heard Staley sing and thought his voice was just so haunting. Even though I didn't know it at the time, his voice carried with it a great deal of pain. I'm still doing some research on him, to know him better even though he's been gone a while. He died at 34, a tortured soul, an "angry angel." The only time I had ever had a chance to see them was on the Metallica tour that would precede their release of the Black Album. The bill was Alice In Chains, Suicidal Tendencies, Candlebox and headliners, Metallica. Chains had dropped out of the bill before they made it to South Park Meadows in Austin, Texas. They had stopped touring completely, it was said. Reports of Staley's drug use were widely known and most of the people I knew all agreed that the band was done due to it.

But that night, MuchMusic aired a special on Staley that burned itself into my mind. They spoke to several of his bandmates, including Jerry Cantrell, who was shown to break down from interview to interview. It was the evolution of a guy who didn't know what to do for his friend. At first, he was oblivious, almost happy. But by the end, he was stuttering and fearful, maybe even guilt stricken. Fact is, no one knew what to do about Staley. Friends and critics alike all have said that it wasn't something that just came up, they knew it was happening. One music industry insider said, "He's never gonna get off that(heroin) junk." He struggled hard to get clean, from what I read, but it never came together.

I sat there, watching them air clips from their MTV Unplugged special. You could tell from the way his body slumped and the suddenly vacant stare that Staley wasn't well. Inside or out. The voice, even more haunting that before, came through clean and clear. I could see, in the face of Staley, that he wasn't holding on very tight. Another talented soul with a great gift was sent home.

If you've never seen Alice In Chains' performance on Unplugged, you should find yourself a copy.

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