Sept. 24 represents the 20-year anniversary of Nirvana's Nevermind. The milestone has been marked by a special tribute concert in Seattle, a four-disc deluxe edition of the album (out Sept. 27), and countless articles and interviews pondering the impact of Nevermind. And while the album was certainly a watershed, even Kurt Cobain argued that a bevy of other Northwest bands deserved attention. Here are 10 essential albums from the grunge era not named Nevermind.

1. Tad, God's Balls (1989)
Nirvana toured England in 1989 with Sub Pop Records labelmates Tad, and many forget that some critics thought Tad put on the better show. Fronted by 300-pound former butcher Tad Doyle, Tad's sound was a swirling wall of wail and distortion. This is Tad's best album, but all are recommended, as well as the DVD Busted Circuits And Ringing Ears. Though never as popular as Nirvana, Cobain did write at least one song about Tad (or more accurately, Tad's gastrointestinal distress), "Imodium."

2. Mudhoney, Superfuzz Bigmuff (1988)
Mudhoney found Sub Pop-level success before Nirvana even had a set lineup. They were also the one Seattle band that critics predicted would break through before Nirvana, mistakenly it turned out. This is their first album, and with the classic "Touch Me I'm Sick," their loudest salvo.

3. Soundgarden, Badmotorfinger (1991)
Soundgarden were always more of a hard rock group than a grunge band, and Badmotorfinger owed more to Led Zeppelin than it did any other influence. But any album with "Rusty Cage" deserves repeated listens. This wasn't their biggest seller — 1994's Superunkown was — but this was the truest slice of what the band sounded like live.

4. Pearl Jam, Vs. (1993)
Pearl Jam's second studio album became an immediate runaway smash, which wasn't the case with their debut, Ten. And while Ten is more iconic (due in part to video hits), Vs. is PJ's best studio album. "Animal," "Daughter" and "Elderly Woman Behind The Counter In A Small Town" have become concert staples over the years, played with a ferocity rarely found in "Jeremy."

5. Alice In Chains, Dirt (1992)
Alice In Chains were often considered slightly outside the Seattle grunge world — their early populist leanings were certainly far from punk and more glam. But on this, their sophomore album, vocalist Layne Staley and guitarist Jerry Cantrell wrote some of their most enduring songs: "Down In A Hole," "Rooster," "Angry Chair," and "Would?" Few bands in Seattle, or elsewhere, ever had the nerve to be so unabashedly bleak, and to risk putting that darkness at the core. There was not another Seattle band as unselfconscious as Alice, which may be one reason their songs are still all over rock radio two decades later.

6. Screaming Trees, Sweet Oblivion (1992)
Screaming Trees formed before grunge hit, so this album, their sixth release, showed maturity that few in Seattle had pulled off by 1992. Fronted by the charismatic Mark Lanegan, their songs were also dark, but with intense shifts of mood into euphoria as in "Nearly Lost You." That song did show up on the Singles soundtrack, which brought them their one mainstream hit, but their entire catalog is to be enjoyed.

7. 7 Year Bitch, ¡Viva Zapata! (1994)
While the scene was often thought of by outsiders as a "boys with long hair" club, it was actually occasionally gender-balanced, and 7 Year Bitch rocked with the best. This album was particularly poignant in that it mourned the loss of Mia Zapata, the popular lead singer of the Gits, who was tragically murdered a year before this 1994 album. SYB veered more towards punk, which unfortunately kept them on the margins of the mainstream.

8. Love Battery, Between The Eyes (1992)
Love Battery's debut came out one month after Nevermind had reached No. 1 on the Billboard 200, and by that point they were lost in the wave rather than carried by it. Lead singer Ron Nine was an onstage dervish, while Kevin Whitworth's guitar playing was idolized by every other Seattle player of the era. Love Battery were the only grunge band with the guts to cover a Pink Floyd song ("Ibiza Bar"), but their sound did have hints of psychedelia thrown in.

9. Temple Of The Dog, Temple Of The Dog (1990)
Temple Of The Dog had the best pedigree of any grunge band. This album was put together as a memorial to Andy Wood, the much-loved singer for Mother Love Bone who had died of a drug overdose. The lineup of Soundgarden's Chris Cornell and Matt Cameron and Pearl Jam's Eddie Vedder, Mike McCready, Stone Gossard, and Jeff Ament was a dream team of talent. And if "Hunger Strike" isn't Cornell's best vocal ever, then anything that could top it is still on the studio floor.

10. Nirvana, In Utero (1993)
No grunge list would be complete without Nirvana's best album, albeit one that sold only about half of what Nevermind sold. Even Cobain himself preferred In Utero, and that's not just because it was the last record he cut before he died. The strength of In Utero is not necessarily the harder-edged punk production by Steve Albini — that's proved too harsh for many tastes, even Cobain's. But Nirvana's third studio album is their best simply because Cobain's songwriting skill was at its peak. There is no better "grunge" lyric than "Serve The Servant"'s "Teenage angst has paid off well/Now I'm bored and old." Twenty years after the release of Nevermind, those who originally lived through the grunge era all truly qualify as old. But bored? Never….

(Charles R. Cross is the author of seven books, including his bestselling biography of Jimi Hendrix, Room Full Of Mirrors. Heavier Than Heaven, his Kurt Cobain biography, is currently being made into a film. He is presently writing a biography on Heart.)

"I will answer any and all questions. Just, a lot of times, people don't like my answers."

So goes Buzz Osborne — the long-reigning King Buzzo, of cult heavies the Melvins — halfway through a hair-raising, hour-long interview. He had a catbird seat to the exhilarating rise and tragic fall of the grunge era; for some, his brutal honesty in that regard might be a liability.

"That's just Buzz," said his old friend Krist Novoselic of Nirvana, after Osborne virally disparaged the documentary Kurt Cobain: Montage of Heck as "90 percent... bulls—." "He's always been like that, but we love him so we just accept him for that. He's always had these opinions. Like, 'Oh, there goes Buzz again.'"

There he goes again, indeed. But Osborne's honesty is just that — honesty. Go ahead and scour his interviews; try to catch him in a lie, or a half-truth, about anything he's lived through.

"I wasn't wrong then, I'm not wrong now. I was misunderstood then, and I'm going to continue to be misunderstood," Osborne tells GRAMMY.com of the old days, when he watched his friends in Nirvana and Soundgarden grow from nothing to dominate the earth. "But that's OK, it's part of the deal."

Unlike either act, Osborne has always been 100 percent opposed to conventional notions of rock stardom. (Cobain seemed hot and cold on the matter.) He doesn't drink or take drugs. He's been married to the same woman forever. "I live a conservative life, and I let my wildness come out of my art," Osborne explains.

And while Tarantula Heart might not necessarily grow his cult fanbase, it's one of the wildest things Osborne's made — and that alone makes it worth celebrating and cherishing.

The Melvins' 27th studio album (Osborne estimates the total to be over 30, so perhaps it depends on how you count) is rife with off-kilter, pummeling tracks like "Working the Ditch," "She's Got Weird Arms" and "Smiler."

Therein, Osborne shows he can still throw a wrench in the works when things threaten to become predictable, and come up with profoundly idiosyncratic and ineffably satisfying art. (How he recorded the drums alone is fascinating — and by some standards, backwards.)

Read on to learn how Tarantula Heart was made, living with Kurt Cobain's distorted public shadow, which of his grunge-era contemporaries he still talks to, and much more.

This interview has been edited for clarity.

I'll admit that I haven't heard every Melvins album. But Tarantula Heart still strikes me as a high watermark in the discography.

Well, I don't think anybody has heard our entire catalog.

I probably have. I would say that I guarantee you Steven [Shane McDonald]'s never listened to all of our records. The guy who plays bass for us. I really, seriously doubt it. I doubt that [former bassist] Kevin Rutmanis has ever listened to all of our records. I can't imagine that the Big Business guys listened to all our records. It's too much for anybody to take in. I don't expect people to do that.

At any rate, how do you keep your artistry so fresh and inspired?

I stay inspired by thinking — moving my feet. After 30-plus albums, I am always looking for something that's going to inspire me in a new way. I don't really have much interest in going back and making records the way that I did 30 years ago, or 15 years ago.

There's really no template for how you guys do things, is there?

No, there's no template. I don't want to do anything normal. Nothing. I'm an accidentalist, I'd say, by 50 percent. And the other 50 percent is making sure that you are not throwing out the good stuff with the bad stuff. 

Also, as time has gone on, I've realized that my tolerance for lots of stuff is a lot higher than most people are capable of dealing with. I can listen to long, drawn-out stuff, and I always could, but I realized in my music, I always held back a little bit on it. Then, I realized, Well, I don't need to do that. I can do whatever I want. I can view albums the way that I want to.

Do go on.

One of my favorite albums for that kind of thing is Heathen Earth by Throbbing Gristle. That's been a huge inspiration on what I've done for a long time. Or early Swans. I mean, we were never going to sell millions of records. All we were going to do was make music that, because I felt like I had good taste, there'd be other people that would like it. It probably won't be millions, but it'll be enough.

Those kinds of inspirations [are] very exciting for me. And I expect people not to understand it, but that's the way it's always been.

We did this record in such a weird fashion. I knew that I needed to tell people how we did it, but…once they knew, they would say, "That's what it sounds like." They'd piss all over it.

You know how many times I have been told what I should do in the last 41 years? It's like if I listened to all this good advice, I'd be sitting here with nothing.

You characterized yourself as an "accidentalist." Give me a couple of great accidents on Tarantula Heart.

Well, one of them was accidentally figuring out how we were going to do this record. Because that's not how we recorded the drums originally. I didn't know that's what we were going to do. I just accidentally stumbled on it while listening to the demos or the rough mixes of all the jams that we made.

So, we would have a basic riff that we could jam to with the drummers. We recorded for about 15 minutes, 20 minutes, maybe a few minutes into it, the drummers would lock up into something. And I realized when I was listening back to [the demos] that they did something interesting for this little six-minute section or eight-minute section, and then they kind of lost it.

Then, I would take that section, and write a riff to it that had nothing to do with the original riff that was on it. The first one I did was "Allergic to Food," I think. And then I put vocals on it and then I realized I could do the whole record like this. The drums are playing along with stuff that's not now on there. So, all their accents and all the way that they're playing isn't the way they would've done it, had we rehearsed it or something like this.

So, I got something out of it that's brand new.

That's the epitome of a happy accident.

I just accidentally stumbled upon this thing that might work, let me try doing the whole record like that. And it worked. But I don't know, I couldn't do it again, because now they'd be suspicious of it and they might play in a way that wasn't as free as the way they played. So, it's probably a one-time-only.

There's a song we did a long time ago called "The Bloated Pope," and there's a stumbly-sounding drum intro. Dale [Crover] made a mistake. I went, "Leave that in there. That's really cool." Now, that's the intro. It sounds intentional. That's how we play it now. But it was a mistake.

You mentioned Kevin Rutmanis. Do you keep in touch with old members of the Melvins?

I'm still really good friends with Kevin. Let me think. Mark [Deutrom], no. Lori [Black], no. Jeff Pinkus… I'm going to do a big acoustic tour starting in August with Trevor Dunn, who's also played with us. Jeff Pinkus is doing all the U.S. touring, and we're trying to get him on the European end of it. So, I talk to both Trevor and him a lot.

Matt [Lukin] from Mudhoney — no, not in the least.

I didn't know stuff wasn't cool with Matt. I just knew he played on the first Melvins album, Gluey Porch Treatments.

Oh, no, I don't get along with him at all. I haven't liked him since I was in high school. He's a very toxic human being. He wasn't a very good player, and I just found him irritating and counterproductive. I've not looked back one minute, nor have I regretted any part of not having him in my life.

He can do or say whatever he wants. I don't give a s—. That's nothing new. It's not like that's a new revelation. Look, hardly anybody in the world even knows who he is. You're one of the first people that's even brought him up.

That's surprising, as Pearl Jam named a song after him. It's not a hit, but fans know it.

Yeah, well, if Eddie wants to think he's a great guy, then so be it. Better him than me.

How about your other contemporaries, like the other members of Mudhoney?

Oh, I get along with those guys great. I would love to do a recording with all the Mudhoney guys.

Mark [Arm], especially, is someone I've known since the very early '80s. I learned a lot of stuff about bands and music that I never knew before. He turned me on to lots of stuff that I was very excited about, like Foetus and the Birthday Party — just a host of bands.

I always viewed him as somebody who was really smart — really fun to be around. He and Steve Turner know more about music than anyone I've ever been around.

I’d like to broach this as sensitively as possible: April 5 marked the 30th anniversary of your old friend Kurt's passing. How have you dealt with the endless flattening and deification of a person you knew as flesh and blood?

It's very weird. It's not the kind of thing you get over. People tend to want me to look at it like the good old days, but to me, heroin addiction and death, it's hard to romanticize that. I'm not going to get over it anytime soon. I don't know that I ever will.

Part of me also thinks that, yeah, I turned him onto music and got him interested in all this stuff, and it's like maybe if I hadn't, he wouldn't be dead. So it's a weird position to be in.

I hope that doesn't bedevil you too much. That's a massive weight to carry — one that you didn't ask for.

I mean, at some point, you just have to move on. And musical ideas that I had, other people took, and it changed music on a global level. So I wasn't wrong about what I originally thought, and I'm happy to have that be the case, and I'll just move forward with the same attitude I did then.

I wasn't wrong then, I'm not wrong now. I was misunderstood then, and I'm going to continue to be misunderstood, but that's OK, it's part of the deal. I'm OK with that.

It's your lot in life.

That's all right. I mean, I make my living as a musician. That's all I ever wanted. So no one could have guessed any of that stuff would happen.

I mean, the Nirvana guys and the Soundgarden guys — those are rags-to-riches stories.Those guys, especially the Nirvana guys, had nothing. And if you look at the guys in Soundgarden, those people all come from nothing. Zero.

So, it's been exciting to watch people you're so fond of become successful and have that kind of thing happen and say that you were an influence on what they were doing. Great.

But when you're handed that kind of responsibility and those kinds of keys, you need to work harder than you ever have. You just need to keep doing this good work. And that's what I've tried to do for the next 35, 40 years.

*The Melvins in 1991 (L-R: Dale Crover, Buzz Osborne, then-bassist Lori Black). Photo: David Corio/Redferns*

It feels so unfair what happened to you guys. You were kids from the sticks — and to varying degrees, you were all thrown into this ruthless celebrity grinder.

Oh, yeah. It's easy to avoid that stuff. I'm not going to any industry parties. I never have. I don't want to do that kind of stuff. I've always shied away from it, because I'm not comfortable there.

I don't think it's wrong for everyone, but it's wrong for me. I'd rather just do my work and let that be the end of it. I'm not good at networking. I'm not good at outselling myself to people who may not give a s—.

I've been in L.A. for 30-plus years and most people in the industry don't even know I'm there. They still say, "Oh, so you live in the Northwest?" I go, "Well, I left there in '86, '87." And in L.A., you're far more likely to see me at a municipal golf course than at a rock and roll show.

At this point, I only go to rock and roll shows if I'm getting paid to be there. They're not fun for me. I end up in the audience talking to a bunch of drunks. That's not fun for me. Drunks are only fun if you're drunk.

And I appreciate everybody who comes to our shows, but I don't have fun at live shows myself as an audience member. I'm in those places all the time, and I don't want to put myself in a position where I'm going to have to punch someone in the mouth. It's not a good place for me to be, so I avoid it.

That's unfortunate, but I know exactly how I am. If you push me far enough. I'll beat the living f—ing s— out of you. And I don't fight fair. I don't. I grew up in a redneck town. I fought all the time. I'll kick you right in the nuts and then lay your head open.

I get to see enough shows. We did a tour last year with Boris, and we played some shows with We Are the Asteroid and Taipei Houston, who are really good. On stage, I'll get to watch Trevor Dunn play every night. I'm not feeling unfulfilled in a live music type of way at all.

I'm sure your intense work ethic also stems from your upbringing.

Suffering and working a s— job and all those kinds of things — I don't know that that ever made my music better, but it did give me an understanding of how important things like hard work are.

I think it's kind of a tragedy that teenagers don't work more. I always enjoyed working when I was a teenager. I wanted a job. I wanted to do things like that. I think that working hard is something that people should do. I couldn't wait to get a car. I couldn't wait to be mobile, and be my own person.

I've only ever been around my family situation, around people who had to work, so I don't know anything else. I don't know what it's like to live some bourgeois life where work is just not important. Unless you plan on inheriting a lot of money, I don't know how else it's going to work out for you.

I went to school and went to a job after school, got home by about 9 or 10 at night, and went and did the whole thing over again. I never had a problem with that. You don't do the work, you don't get the money. That's just how it works. So this whole idea that teenagers don't work anymore hardly in the US anyway, I think is just kind of absurd.

Before we go, give me a line from the album that you believe in with your whole heart.

"I'm about to make you happy."

What's that mean to you?

It could be the truth. It could be a lie.

Pearl Jam's Stone Gossard On New Album Dark Matter & The Galvanizing Force Of Andrew Watt

When Pearl Jam threw their hands together on the cover of their debut album Ten, they laid an architecturally sound foundation — to stay unified, unbroken, always honing. Much like their hero (and collaborator) Neil Young, their aesthetic blueprint was established from the jump: on every album in Ten’s wake, they’ve dug a little (or a lot) deeper into that ineffable essence.

Pearl Jam have never made a bad record; they’ve only swung their pickaxe at that mine and been variably rewarded. On 2000’s Binaural, they hit a seam of simmering psychedelia; on its follow-up, the underrated, desolate Riot Act, they stumbled on a yawning, haunted chasm. 2009’s Backspacer, 2013’s Lightning Bolt and 2020’s Gigaton were all hailed as returns to form, yet none of them totally flipped the script.

Enter Dark Matter, their new album, produced by the young wunderkind Andrew Watt, due out April 19. Singer Eddie Vedder has declared, "No hyperbole, I think this is our best work." This time, that really feels apt: Watt’s abundant, kinetic energy and clear love for their legacy clearly knocked a few cobwebs loose.

Just listen to singles "Running" and "Dark Matter" — or album tracks, like the epic ballad "Wreckage," and how they build to neck-snapping fever pitches. Pearl Jam have always had batteries in their backs, but they haven’t sounded this young and hungry in decades.

"I think he loves the band from what he has seen us live. He knows that we, in certain moments, are unhinged," founding guitarist Stone Gossard tells GRAMMY.com of the irrepressible Watt, who’s also whipped the Rolling Stones and Ozzy Osbourne back into fighting shape. "That's part of what we do."

"It’s where rock and roll meets just religious ecstasy, where it's not about anything other than movement and rhythm and noise," Gossard adds. "And it turns into something that's not a song, but a ritual or something… sometimes, as you get older as a band, you can lose touch of that."

This interview has been edited for clarity.

Can you talk about Dark Matter’s sound? It feels so different from past Pearl Jam records, in a great way — it seems to emanate from a dark center, to all sides of the soundfield.

The sonics of it is really Andrew Watt. That’s his dream — of loving rock music, and then being in the pop world, then learning and understanding that world so well. And then going back to all of his favorite bands from when he was a kid and making records with them, which is hilarious. 

Because I keep saying this, "We're just in Andrew's dream and we're just kind of a sidebar. This is really the Andrew Watt story that's actually going on right now, and we're all just part of it."

But he really has a very distinctive sonic style. He has a studio that we just walked into the first day making this record, and it's just gear already out, ready to go: "What kind of guitar do you want? Here's an amp, whatever, the drums are here. We’ve got a microphone in the closet."

Usually, if you're in a band — and especially a band for 20 or 30 years — when you decide to do something, then your gear shows up and your guy shows up, and then all your guys argue with each other about where their stuff's going to go, it's a drama. This was no drama. There was no work involved. We just walked in and played.

It sounded like the record right away. He's running things through the chains that he wants. The way he uses compression, and the way he uses reverb, and the guitar sounds he likes, and how he places things — he's a sonic artist.

So it sounds exciting, and really live. And yet, also you can really hear the details, and it's not a mess.

It’s interesting that you bring up Watt’s pop background. Pearl Jam has always seemed at odds with how things are typically done in the music industry, so it’s great that you’re able to retrieve what you need from the machine.

Well, there's the world of pop music in terms of your perception of it, in terms of what it represents.

But also, the structures that we're dealing with in rock songs and pop songs — basically, the form is still the same. You're starting out with one part and maybe there's a variation, but it's tension and release and it's a few chords and it's a beat and it's a piece of poetry.

Those things can fit together in a lot of different ways, but there's things about pop music that are foundational to all music. There's things about it that work, and work for a reason. It gets bastardized and homogenized and all that.

So, we're still writing rock songs and pop songs — but we like to make them a little hairier, generally.

I see how the Dark Matter sessions could be the Watt show. But I’m sure it was a reciprocal conversation. What references were you throwing back at him, from the millions of miles the band’s traveled together?

Well, he’s a fan. He’s a Ten Club member from way, way back. He fell in love with Pearl Jam when he was 15 years old.

He met [guitarist] Mike McCready outside of a Robin Hood fundraiser in New York. He was with his dad, and Andrew and his dad came up and said, "This is my son Andrew; he's a musician; he really wants to become a rock star. He wants to be in bands and make records. And Mike, do you have any advice you can give him?"

And Mike said, "Finish up your college your dad wants you to, and make sure you got your bases covered." And then Andrew, of course, just went in the opposite direction and said, "Oh, I'm just going to conquer the world and then I'm going to come back and produce your band, Mike McCready."

So I love that. I love that he has that history with us. And I just think that he comes from a place, he's a real fan of the band. His enthusiasm really drove the process and his understanding of the things that he loves about us. He really wanted us to make an aggressive record. He really fell in love with our unhinged side from when he was a kid. But just loved the different ways that we had fit together as a kid.

I think he was encouraging us to find those same sort of things that worked in the past. And he's an experimenter. He's ready for anything. You can say no to him. I mean, you’ve got to be forceful. We were a united front a few times and just said, "No, we're going to do this," or whatever. But he made a lot of good decisions, and helped us make a lot of good decisions.

And I think the record, the arrangements, even just them playing now — when we're just starting to rehearse them, the songs are playing well, they're playing themselves. There's no ambiguity to them, where it's mushy. They're strong — lyrically, melodically, rhythmically. All the stool legs are in place.

As I understand it, there were no demos, and Eddie was reacting to the energy in the room, and writing in the moment. This is a great batch of lyrics. They hit you in the solar plexus.

I think one thing that we've learned over the years is that Eddie is more active and more inspired and will finish more songs — and get more excited about songs — when he's in the process of writing with the band.

So, if it's us against the world, and we're stepping into a studio — someone's throwing out a riff or someone's got an idea, and then it gets tweaked and molded — he's going to do his damnedest to make that thing. If he's in on it and feels part of it, he's going to do his damnedest to make that thing have legs and survive.

You're less likely to have something happen if you send him something than you are if you plan something when he's in the room and you're working it out. Just make it about that moment.

It's like, "I don't care about all the different things you thought your song should be or how many different ways it could go, or if it's reggae… let's try it right now with everybody and see how everyone plays it, and feels it —and do I feel it?"

And a lot of times he does, and we find that. And then once he starts going, then all of us are — phew! The energy goes up.

One of my favorite songs on Dark Matter is "Wreckage." That one builds unbelievably.

That’s really Andrew and Ed back and forth, discovering that arrangement, and the push and pull of where that song could go. I think it hit a sweet spot. All of us are part of it, but it’s understated in a way that I think is really beautiful.

It builds in a way that feels natural; it doesn’t feel gratuitous to me. It feels like a destination: you’ve reached it, and you deserve it at that point. There’s a lot going on harmonically, but the chords are very simple.

The other is "Something Special." Partly because I was looking at message boards, where the peanut gallery was complaining about its naked sentimentality. I was thinking, You don’t get it! This is straight from the heart.

Where you are in your life, and why that lyric means something to you — yeah, it’s different for everyone.

That’s a Josh Klinghoffer composition.  He’s become part of our band in a way that’s so amazing — his voice and his musicality. He’s really almost become our musical bandleader at this point, which is the best, because he’s charming and hilarious and fun to be around and always game.

Josh had this great riff. Immediately, Andrew and Ed changed a bunch of chords and moved it all around, but it turned out great. We’ve been playing it in rehearsals. It’s got great chords; it’s beautiful, sentimental and gorgeous.

And we need that on the record. The record’s pretty bleak. It’s not uplifting, necessarily. So, yeah — sometimes, you go home, and you just hang out, and you’ve got to just tell the people you love how much you love them.

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While in a studio, Andrew Watt bounces off the walls. Just ask Mick Jagger, who once had to gently tell the 33-year-old, "Look, I can deal with this, but when you meet Ronnie and Keith, you have to dial it down a little bit."

Or ask Pearl Jam's Stone Gossard. "He really got the best out of [drummer] Matt [Cameron] just by being excited — literally jumping up and down and pumping his fist and running around," he tells GRAMMY.com.

As Watt's hot streak has burned on, reams have rightly been written about his ability to take a legacy act, reconnect them with their essence, and put a battery in their back. His efficacy can be seen at Music's Biggest Night: Ozzy Osbourne's Patient Number 9 won Best Rock Album at the 2023 GRAMMYs. At the last ceremony, the Rolling Stones were nominated for Best Rock Song, for Hackney Diamonds' opener "Angry."

On Pearl Jam's return to form, Dark Matter, due out April 19. Who was behind the desk? Take a wild guess.

"You want to see them live more than you want to listen to their albums, and they have the ability to look at each other and play and follow each other. I don't like my rock music any other way, as a listener," Watt tells GRAMMY.com. "All my favorite records are made like that — of people speeding up, slowing down, playing longer than they should."

As such, Watt had a lightbulb moment: to not record any demos, and have them write together in the room. "They're all playing different stuff, and it makes up what Pearl Jam is, and singer Eddie [Vedder] rides it like a wave."

If you're more of a pop listener, there's tons of Watt for you — he's worked with Justin Bieber ("Hit the Ground" from Purpose), Lana Del Rey ("Doin' Time" from Norman F—ing Rockwell) and much more. Read on for a breakdown of big name rockers who have worked with Andrew Watt.

Pearl Jam / Eddie Vedder

Watt didn't just produce Dark Matter; he also helmed Vedder's well-received third solo album, Earthling, from 2022. Watt plays guitar in Vedder's live backing band, known as the Earthlings — which also includes Josh Klinghoffer, who replaced John Frusciante in the Red Hot Chili Peppers for a stint.

The Rolling Stones

Dark Matter was a comeback for Pearl Jam, but Hackney Diamonds was really a comeback for the Stones. While it had a hater or two, the overwhelming consensus was that it was the Stones' best album in decades — maybe even since 1978's Some Girls.

"I hope what makes it fresh and modern comes down to the way it's mixed, with focus on low end and making sure the drums are big," Watt, who wore a different Stones shirt every day in the studio, has said about Hackney Diamonds. "But the record is recorded like a Stones album."

Where there are modern rock flourishes on Hackney Diamonds, "There's no click tracks. There's no gridding. There's no computer editing," he continued. "This s— is performed live and it speeds up and slows down. It's made to the f—ing heartbeat connection of Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, Ronnie Wood and Steve Jordan.

"And Charlie," Watt added, tipping a hat to Watts, who played on Hackney Diamonds but died before it came out. "When Charlie's on it."

Iggy Pop

Ever since he first picked up a mic and removed his shirt, the snapping junkyard dog of the Stooges has stayed relevant — as far as indie, alternative and punk music has been concerned.

But aside from bright spots like 2016's Josh Homme-produced Post Pop Depression, his late-career output has felt occasionally indulgent and enervated. The 11 songs on 2023's eclectic Watt-produced Every Loser, on the other hand, slap you in the face in 11 different ways.

"We would jam and make tracks and send them to Iggy, and he would like 'em and write to them or wouldn't like them and we'd do something else," Watt told Billboard. "It was very low pressure. We just kept making music until we felt like we had an album." (And as with Pearl Jam and Vedder's Earthlings band, Watt has rocked out onstage with Pop.

Ozzy Osbourne

You dropped your crown, O Prince of Darkness. When he hooked up with Watt, the original Black Sabbath frontman hadn't released any solo music since 2010's Scream; in 2017, Sabbath finally said goodbye after 49 years and 10 (!) singers.

On 2020's Ordinary Man and 2022's Patient Number 9, Watt reenergized Ozzy; even when he sounds his age, Ozz sounds resolute, defiant, spitting in the face of the Reaper. (A bittersweet aside: the late Taylor Hawkins appears on Patient Number 9, which was written and recorded in just four days.)

Maroon 5

Yeah, yeah, they're more of a pop-rock band, but they have guitars, bass and drums. (And if you're the type of rock fan who's neutral or hostile to the 5, you shouldn't be; Songs About Jane slaps.)

At any rate, Watt co-produced "Can't Leave You Alone," featuring Juice WRLD, from 2021's Jordi. Critics disparaged the album, but showed Watt's facility straddling the pop and rock worlds.

5 Seconds of Summer

When it comes to Andrew Watt, the Sydney pop-rockers — slightly more on the rock end than Maroon 5 and their ilk — are repeat customers. He produced a number of tracks for 5 Seconds of Summer, which spanned 2018's Youngblood, 2020's Calm and 2022's 5SOS5.

Regarding the former: Watt has cited Youngblood as one of the defining recording experiences of his life.

"I had started working with 5 Seconds of Summer, and a lot of people looked at them as a boy band, but they're not," Watt told Guitar Player. "They're all incredible musicians. They can all play every instrument. They love rock music. They can harmonize like skyrockets in flight. They just were making the wrong kind of music."

So Watt showed 5 Seconds of Summer a number of mainstays of the rock era, like Tears for Fears and the Police. The rest, as they say, is history.

Elton John

A year after Britney Spears was unshackled from her highly controversial conservatorship, it was time for a victory lap with the God of Glitter. What resulted was a curious little bauble, which became a megahit: "Hold Me Closer," a spin on "Tiny Dancer," "The One" and "Don't Go Breaking My Heart" that briefly launched Spears back into the stratosphere.

"Britney came in and she knew what she wanted to do," Watt recalled to The L.A. Times. "We sped up the song a little bit and she sang the verses in her falsetto, which harkens back to 'Toxic.' She was having a blast."

Blink-182

Watt has also worked with pop/punk heroes Blink-182 — but not after Tom DeLonge made his grand return. He produced "I Really Wish I Hated You" from 2019's Nine, back when Matt Skiba was in the band.

Where in the rock world will this tender-aged superproducer strike next? Watt knows.

Songbook: The Rolling Stones' Seven-Decade Journey To Hackney Diamonds

Despite being the first grunge group to sign with a major label in the late '80s, Seattle four-piece Soundgarden were one of the last major players to break through to the mainstream. In fact, by the time they released their fourth LP, Superunknown, in March 1994, Pearl Jam had already sold 20 million records, Stone Temple Pilots had won a GRAMMY, and Nirvana were only a month away from tragically imploding.  

However, when frontman Chris Cornell, lead guitarist Kim Thayil, bassist Ben Shepherd, and drummer Matt Cameron finally entered the big league, they did so in major fashion. Superunknown instantly topped the Billboard 200, and went on to spawn five top 20 hits on the U.S. Mainstream Rock chart, win two GRAMMYs, and achieve five-time platinum status in the United States alone. 

Perhaps the most ironic part is that Soundgarden went stratospheric with an experimental 70-minute opus that resolutely drowns in despair — and that paradox was not lost on Cornell. "There's an eeriness in there, a kind of unresolvable sadness or indescribable longing that I've never really tried to isolate and define and fully understand," the singer told Rolling Stone in 2014, three years before he died by suicide. "But it's always there. It's like a haunted thing." 

Indeed, the cleaner-cut Cornell may have trimmed his signature locks in time for Superknown's array of MTV-friendly videos, but the album is hardly a streamlined affair tailor-made for the masses. Still, its intensity, uncompromising nature, and eclecticism — let's not forget it boasts a cameo from a street artist named Artis the Spoonman — has helped it remain one of premier grunge classics. 

To celebrate the 30th anniversary of Superunknown, here's a look at why the record is a benchmark of Gen X rock.    

It Proved Grunge Could Survive the Death Of Its Hero

Many say that the grunge movement died the day Kurt Cobain took his own life on April 5, 1994. Yet while the tragedy nearly instantly made Nirvana obsolete, many of their peers still enjoyed major success for several years before the slightly more earnest sound dubbed post-grunge took up the angst-ridden mantle.  

Released just a month before Cobain's passing, Superunknown had already joined Nevermind and In Utero, Alice in Chains' Jar of Flies, and Pearl Jam's Vs. on grunge's list of Billboard 200 chart-toppers. But it had a remarkable shelf life, too, spending 80 weeks on the chart and becoming the 13th biggest seller of 1994.  

A 20th anniversary re-release and accompanying tour in 2014 further highlighted how seminal the record had become, with even Cornell — a man typically averse to all things nostalgic — appearing to accept its classic status. "It was showing what we were, not just a flavor of the month," he told Rolling Stone. "We had the responsibility to seize the moment, and I think we really did." 

It Broke The Grunge Mould

While the likes of Pixies, Dinosaur Jr., and Sonic Youth were key reference points for most grunge outfits, Superunknown took inspiration from a much broader musical palette. Producer Michael Beinhorn looked toward the ambient techno of Aphex Twin and the punishing Dutch dance music known as gabber to capture the required intensity; he also pointed Cornell in the direction of specific Frank Sinatra songs to help hone the frontman's performance style. 

There was also a strong Beatles influence, particularly on the Lennon-ish melodies of "Black Hole Sun" and the "Tomorrow Never Knows"-esque drum breaks of "My Wave." "We looked deep down inside the very core of our souls and there was a little Ringo sitting there," Thayil told Guitar World in 1994.. 

The Shepherd-sung "Half," meanwhile, further embraced the band's Middle Eastern tendencies, while the use of mellotrons ("Mailman"), clavinets ("Fresh Tendrils"), and, most intriguingly, various kitchen equipment ("Spoonman") further proved Soundgarden weren't afraid to push the genre outside of its comfort zone.   

It Won The Great Rock War Of 1994

You could say that March 8, 1994 was a momentous day for game-changing American rock, and indeed music retailers across the country. Not only did Soundgarden unleash their blockbuster fourth album, but Nine Inch Nails dropped their very own magnum opus, too.   

Combining transgressive themes such as S&M, self-hatred and substance abuse with pioneering electronics and strong melodic hooks, NIN's The Downward Spiral is credited with pushing industrial rock into the mainstream. And in most other weeks, its first-week sales of 118,000 would have been enough to land the No. 1 spot.  

Unfortunately for Trent Reznor and co., it went up against an even bigger commercial juggernaut. Superunknown sailed to the top of the Billboard 200 with a remarkable 310,000 sales, winning the unlikely chart battle by a landslide. 15 years later, Reznor admitted he'd been wounded by the defeat, but following a brief online beef with Cornell, the two outfits kissed and made up with a 2014 joint tour.   

It Inspired A Generation Of Rockers

Between The Buried and Me ("The Day I Tried to Live"), Halestorm ("Fell on Black Days"), and Ufomammut ("Let Me Drown") are just a few of the modern-day rock bands who've paid tribute to Superunknown with various covers over the years. Its most high-profile champion, though, was another iconic frontman also sadly no longer with us. 

Chester Bennington regularly sang the album's praises, describing it as "one of the best rock records of all time" while also selecting "Limo Wreck" on his ultimate playlist for Shortlist. The Linkin Park singer had struck up such a close friendship with Cornell he was invited to perform at the latter's funeral in 2017 just two months before his own tragic death.  

Proof of just how wide-reaching Superunknown's appeal was, however, came with the fact '80s hair metallers Def Leppard also cited it as a source of inspiration for 1996's Slang, while nine years on, legendary crooner Paul Anka covered "Black Hole Sun" in a big band style on Rock Swings.  

It Spawned The Scene's Defining Video

Soundgarden's controversial video for Badmotorfinger's "Jesus Christ Pose" received a ban from MTV in 1991. In stark contrast, the promo for Superunknown's lead single three years later became a regular fixture on the network.  

Directed by Howard Greenhalgh, the attention-grabbing clip centers around a suburban community which gradually becomes consumed by, well, a black hole sun. While the band make an appearance, valiantly performing while the apocalypse rages on, they are inevitably overshadowed by the nightmarish locals and their exaggerated wide eyes, maniacal grins, and slithering lizard tongues.  

Heavily inspired by the opening minutes of David Lynch's 1986 cult classic Blue Velvet, "Black Hole Sun" was one of the few videos Soundgarden were satisfied with, according to Thayil. And one could argue that alongside Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit" and Pearl Jam's "Jeremy," it's the grunge movement's visual piece-de-resistance.  

It Made GRAMMYs History

Stone Temple Pilots might have won grunge's first GRAMMY in 1994 (Best Hard Rock Performance for "Plush"). However, Soundgarden were the scene's first — and only — act to pick up two awards in the decade it reigned supreme. 

Rather surprisingly, Nirvana were only ever recognized in 1996 when MTV Unplugged in New York won Best Alternative Music Performance. Likewise, Pearl Jam, who picked up Best Hard Rock Performance for "Spin the Black Circle" (they did win a second in 2015 for Best Recording Package). And although Scott Weiland's outfit received a further two nominations, they never got the chance to make another acceptance speech. 

Both of Soundgarden's victories came for Superunknown in 1995, with "Spoonman" winning Best Metal Performance and "Black Hole Sun" Best Hard Rock Performance. The latter also got a nod in Best Rock Song (which went to Bruce Springsteen's "Streets of Philadelphia"), while the LP itself lost to the Rolling Stones' Voodoo Lounge for Best Rock Album.  

It Put The Poetry Into Grunge

"I write my best songs when I'm depressed," Cornell once told Melody Maker. And the frontman certainly appeared to be going through a lot during the making of Superunknown. 

"Let Me Drown" was self-described as a song about "crawling back to the womb to die." "Mailman" is the tale of a man driven to murder — specifically, shooting his boss in the head — by the pressures of work. And as its title suggests, "Fell on Black Days" reflects on the moment you realize, "everything in your life is f—ed." 

Yet, having reportedly immersed himself in the works of Sylvia Plath before recording, Cornell's lines are a little more poetic than the usual "woe is me" platitudes. See "Safe outside my gilded cage/ With an ounce of pain, I wield a ton of rage" from "Like Suicide," the haunting closer about a bird who flew fatally straight into his house window. Or "Shower in the dark day, clean sparks diving down/ Cool in the waterway where the baptized drown," from "4th of July," the recounting of a dread-filled LSD trip experienced on an Indian reservation. 

Not every track on Superunknown is particularly deep and meaningful: In a 1996 interview, Cornell freely admitted the album's breakout hit is simply a bowl of word salad. But on the whole, it's a record as intriguing lyrically as it is sonically.  

It's Grunge's Most Immersive Album

"A perfect headphones album." That's how Thayil described Superunknown to Spotify while promoting its 20th anniversary reissue in 2014. And he's not wrong. Although the full-throttle title track and punky "Kickstand" proved Soundgarden could still rock out without any bells and whistles, most of their accompanying tracks are of the intricate variety, the group leaning into their free-wheeling, psychedelic side stronger than ever before.  

Each band member gets the chance to display their versatility throughout the multi-layered affair, with subtleties that unfurl with each listen. Alongside Cornell's expressive vocal range, there's Thayil's winding guitar solos, Shepherd's fluid basslines, and Cameron's dexterous rhythms. The result is a record that appears specifically designed to be experienced via a pair of Dr. Dre's finest (or whatever the equivalent of Beats was back in 1994) — and one that has remained just as jammable and beloved 30 years on.

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