Seattle Sucks, Candlebox Rocks
Seattle is the staph-infected armpit of America, and grunge is the second-worst-smelling music genre next to crust punk. In Seattle, it’s illegal to burn flannel, and you have to meet an elitist quotient to claim residency. Twenty years ago, the city thought itself too cool for Candlebox, the Seattle rock band that left its own back yard to sell about 6 million records worldwide. The group eventually succumbed to a genetic predisposition toward self-annihilation and crashed into the fiery depths of has-been-ism. For years, Candlebox accepted its role as the hepatitis-laden needle on the Washington roadside of musical trivia. The band had been to the mountaintop, drunk, drugged, crashed, and burned. But after the guys toiled in obscurity for something like a decade, a strange thing happened. Fans drank from the Candlebox retrospective album that sat in wait like a half-empty cup of beer the day after a house party, and that beer made music, and the music was good. Sunday at 9 p.m., Kevin and Pete from Candlebox will perform live at Ricochet Bar & Lounge. Ask them to leave the ’90s “Far Behind.”
Sun., Feb. 12, 9 p.m., 2012
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