Sub Pop Records Co-Founder Recalls The First Time He Saw Soundgarden Live

Soundgarden and Seattle's music scene go hand in hand, so much so that iconic record label Sub Pop might not exist without the band, and vice versa. One of the label's first releases was Soundgarden's debut single "Hunted Down" / “Nothing to Say” in July 1987, followed by their debut EP Screaming Life, and that symbiotic relationship began when the label's co-founder Jonathan Poneman saw the band play one of their first shows a couple years earlier. This is one of many stories author Corbin Reiff tells in his upcoming book Total F*cking Godhead: The Biography of Chris Cornell, which comes out on July 28. He shared an excerpt with SPIN, which you can read below:

It was an unseasonably chilly evening in Seattle on July 30, 1985. Having just finished band practice, Jonathan Poneman was driving his buddy Mark home when he decided to swing through the University District to settle up with the promoter of a small venue named the (Fabulous) Rainbow Tavern.

Poneman had recently moved from Toledo, Ohio, and enrolled at the University of Washington where he landed a role as one of the DJs for the college’s Audioasis hour on KCMU. To help raise funds for the station, he started booking and promoting a weekly showcase of local bands at the Rainbow. It was a good look for the station, building a tangible link between themselves and the musicians within the local music scene. It was also a good look for the Rainbow who figured that whatever young band might play that typically sleepy weekday evening would bring in at least a few dozen of their friends eager to spend their money on drinks.

Through the large window at the front of the venue, Poneman could see the opening band Skin Yard was onstage. He liked what he heard, and was especially taken by their drummer, a kid named Matt Cameron who was playing out of his mind. “I thought, ‘This is a guy who’s a cut above everyone else,’” Poneman said. “The guitar player was good, the bass player was good, but the drummer was really great.” Skin Yard’s singer Ben McMillan, also a KCMU DJ, had lobbied Poneman hard for this Tuesday night slot and was glad to get it, but he also had an added request. “He said, ‘Would you entertain putting on a show with my band and K-Clone’s band?’”

K-Clone was another on-air talent at KCMU: the alter-ego of Kim Thayil. His band had only been together for about seven months and didn’t even have a single out yet. “I didn’t know Kim, I just knew him as his air name,” Poneman said. “I remember Ben mentioning Hiro from the Altered was in this band, and I used to like the Altered.” McMillan’s co-sign, along with his affinity for Hiro Yamamoto’s other group, was enough for Poneman to add Soundgarden to the bill, despite their hippie-dippy name.

Soundgarden hit the stage after Skin Yard, and Poneman hung around for a bit to hear K-Clone and Yamamoto for himself. A few dozen people seated in chairs dotting the floor watched the four-piece group as they launched into their rage-fueled set. They opened with “No Wrong No Right,” and Poneman’s eyes widened. Brimming with menace and stacked frenetic guitar runs, this was about as far from shoe-gazing hip- pie jams as it got.

Yamamoto and Thayil concocted an impressive cacophony, but Poneman couldn’t take his eyes off the young lead singer. Chris Cornell was unlike anything he’d ever seen before. He was a total rock star in the making, with more raw, untapped talent and charisma than any of his local peers could ever hope to have. “Chris was bare-chested, as he was apt to be,” Poneman recalled. “He was buff and had one of those teenager mustaches. He kinda reminded me of a high school football player on a PCP bender. He didn’t look like he belonged there, but his voice was incredible. His stage presence was unbelievable.”

Poneman ended up staying for the entire set. When it was over, he raced to say hello to the band. “I walked up to the front of the stage after and introduced myself to Chris, and I said, ‘My name is Jonathan, I’m the host of Audioasis and I do the booking down here, and I gotta tell you, that was one of the best shows I’ve seen in my whole life.’” Chris listened thoughtfully as Poneman gushed over his singing, his music, and his band. “I remember him sitting there, nodding his head and smiling, saying ‘That’s great!’”

Soundgarden hadn’t even played ten shows together, and even this small bit of encouragement from someone like Poneman meant a lot. “He was the first person to me that planted that seed that, ‘You guys will be the future of rock music,’” Chris remembered. “You guys will be playing huge places. You guys will be the ones on commercial rock radio stations that kids listen to in their Camaros.”1

That show at the Tavern that brusque summer night began as just another gig for Soundgarden. Chris had no way of knowing that the guy who booked them, sight unseen, would start up a record label of his own called Sub Pop. He had no way of knowing that Poneman would ultimately use Soundgarden as a critical springboard to showcase the best rock and roll the Pacific Northwest had to offer the world. To bor- row a phrase from Bruce Springsteen’s legendary manager Jon Landau, Poneman glimpsed the future of rock and roll that night at the Rainbow, and its name was Soundgarden.

“When I went into that Rainbow show, I was a struggling musician,” he said. “When I walked out of that Rainbow show, I was a struggling someday-to-be record-label head. When you confront that sort of brilliance, you just go, ‘Wow!’”

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