Jesse Howard & The Puget Sound Brining Songs We Forgot We Loved
- Moose Nicholson
- 2 days ago
- 9 min read
Teen Spirit
There was a time when parents hated this music.
Not all of them, of course, but enough that "turn that noise down" became part of growing up in the '90s. The distorted guitars. The gravelly vocals. The flannel. The angst. Grunge wasn't supposed to become timeless. It was supposed to be a phase.
Thursday night, hundreds of people gathered in Downtown Aiken to sing every word.
Somewhere along the way, the soundtrack of teenage rebellion quietly became classic rock.
For their first trip to Aiken, Jesse Howard & The Puget Sound didn't ease into the night.
They opened the throttle.
They even took a swing at 311's Down. Jesse admitted he wasn't really confident in it yet, but they played it anyway.
Honestly, I loved that.
It felt honest.
I spent most of the '90s singing "dumb dumb" before eventually learning the lyric was "some some." Turns out Jesse wasn't the only one improvising. Half the fun of growing up with '90s alternative was confidently singing lyrics nobody actually understood... including ourselves.
The difference is, I was fourteen.
Jesse wasn't.
For someone too young to have lived through grunge the first time around, he somehow understood exactly what made those songs work. He wasn't trying to become Eddie Vedder or Kurt Cobain. He wasn't doing impressions. He found the grit, the urgency, and the imperfections that made those songs feel honest in the first place, then made them his own.
Looking around the stage, something else struck me.
Nobody looked like they were trying to recreate 1994.
No flannel shirts. No chain wallets. No carefully curated Seattle aesthetic. Just four musicians in jeans and T-shirts playing songs that have somehow survived three decades without needing the costumes that often get remembered alongside them.
Maybe that's because the clothes were never really the point.
The flannel didn't make grunge.
The Airwalks didn't make grunge.
The JNCOs didn't make grunge.
The songs did.
Every local musician has a catalog they've earned.
Not because they sat in a room and decided what should be popular, but because they've spent years playing in front of crowds. Songs that connect get played again. Songs that don't quietly disappear. After enough Thursday nights, weddings, festivals, and bar gigs, those surviving songs become second nature.
That's not a lack of creativity.
It's experience.
It's why you'll hear some of the same songs from different bands around town. Not because musicians are copying each other. (Granted, every cover band starts with that particular crime.) It's because thousands of audience reactions have slowly shaped a catalog everybody knows works.
Which is exactly why Jesse Howard & The Puget Sound stood out.
Not because Mike Baideme, Brooks Andrews, Russell Jarrett, or Jesse Howard only play grunge. Quite the opposite.
Mike can just as easily disappear into Zeppelin or Whipping Post. Brooks has spent years playing everything from funk to Prince. Russell has backed countless songs that have become staples around town. None of them arrived with the same musical roadmap.
But somewhere in the overlap of those four musicians was a catalog that somehow escaped becoming part of the standard playbook.
Not because the songs weren't good enough.
Not because audiences wouldn't love them.
Simply because nobody had spent enough Thursday nights proving they would.
Standing behind the stage with my camera, every crack of Russell Jarrett's snare had the little folding D-ring on the bottom of my camera rattling. I spent a minute looking for what was loose before realizing...
It wasn't the camera.
It was Russell.
He wasn't just keeping time.
He was giving those songs exactly the heartbeat they deserved.
I've noticed something about Mike Baideme over the years. Every now and then, he'll hit a solo that makes the lead singer forget he's supposed to be singing next. Thursday night, Jesse got caught smiling through one of those moments before jumping back in.
That's the thing about Mike. He can't help carrying every chapter of his musical life onto the stage. Somewhere in the middle of a Pearl Jam song, a little Zeppelin sneaks out. Not enough to change the song. Just enough to remind you who's holding the guitar.
Watching Mike and Brooks together was another reminder that some chemistry can't be rehearsed. Brothers who have spent a lifetime playing both together and apart don't really communicate anymore.
They anticipate.
Maybe that's one of the quiet jobs Amp the Alley has taken on over the years.
Not introducing audiences to songs they've never heard.
Introducing audiences to songs they've simply forgotten they loved.
There's a difference.
Everybody remembers Smells Like Teen Spirit. Everybody remembers Black. Everybody remembers Yellow Ledbetter. The first few notes are all it takes.
What Thursday night reminded me was that remembering isn't the same thing as expecting.
Those songs had somehow slipped outside the local playbook. Then, for one Thursday night, they were right back where they belonged.
Maybe that's the reward for taking a chance.
Not proving everyone else wrong.
Simply reminding people they were ready for something they didn't even know they'd been missing.
One of the easiest things to do, whether you're a musician, a business owner, or a community, is keep repeating the thing that already works. There's comfort in it.
The harder choice is trusting that people might be ready for something a little different.
Not different for the sake of being different.
Different because you genuinely believe it's worth sharing.
That's something I've grown to appreciate about Amp the Alley.
The audience doesn't show up hoping to hear the same Thursday repeated fifty times. They show up trusting that each band will bring a different piece of themselves to the Bud Light Stage. Sometimes that's an original song. Sometimes it's an unexpected arrangement. Sometimes, like Thursday night, it's an entire catalog that somehow never found its way into the standard rotation.
The gamble isn't whether the songs are good.
The gamble is believing the audience is willing to come with you.
Thursday night, they did.
Frank Turner has a song called Photosynthesis that quietly wrestles with getting older. It begins with the realization that the newest music isn't really written for him anymore. By the end, though, the message has changed. Growing older doesn't require leaving behind the things that made you who you are.
Maybe that's what I was hearing Thursday night.
Mike Baideme didn't stop loving Zeppelin because Pearl Jam came along. Brooks Andrews didn't have to leave Prince behind to make room for Alice in Chains. Russell Jarrett didn't trade one musical life for another. Jesse Howard simply added his own voice to songs that still had something worth saying.
Great musicians don't replace influences.
They collect them.
That's why Jesse Howard & The Puget Sound never felt like a tribute act. It felt like four musicians discovering that, somewhere in the overlap of their musical lives, there was still room for Black, Yellow Ledbetter, Down in a Hole, Smells Like Teen Spirit, and yes, even a last-minute swing at 311.
Maybe that's why Thursday night resonated the way it did.
It wasn't about bringing grunge back.
It wasn't about pretending 1994 was somehow better than 2026.
It was simply appreciating that, on one Thursday night in Downtown Aiken, those songs were exactly what the moment called for.
Turns out some songs don't need a comeback.
They just need the right Thursday.
The Alley
Tom Reed Deserves Our Help
Every now and then, the music stops.
Not because the band finished the set. Because life has a way of reaching over and unplugging the amplifier.
Last week, Amp alum Tom Reed lost his workshop to a fire. Along with it went more than twenty years of guitars, amplifiers, recording equipment, teaching tools, and pieces of a life built around making music.
If you've ever met Tom, you know why the response has been what it has.
He's the kind of musician who is just as happy helping someone else sound better as he is taking the stage himself. He teaches. He encourages. He shows up. He's one of those people who quietly makes our local music community stronger simply by being part of it.
When something like this happens, you find out what kind of community you've built.
Within days, fellow musicians were handing him guitars, lending gear, organizing a GoFundMe, and reminding Tom of something he admitted he'd forgotten in the middle of all this:
Just how many people he's impacted.
As I write this, the fundraiser has already climbed past $10,000 toward its $15,000 goal. That's hundreds of people deciding that someone who has spent years pouring into others deserves a little help getting back on his feet.
That's the Augusta and Aiken music community I know.
If you've ever enjoyed one of Tom's performances, taken one of his lessons, shared a stage with him, or simply believe that good people deserve good neighbors, consider pitching in.
Because replacing instruments is expensive.
Replacing a guy like Tom isn't possible.
Stark Plumbing Will Prevent Small Problems From Becoming Huge Ones
One of those things I never would've thought about until Stark Plumbing pointed it out...
Apparently your outdoor spigot isn't supposed to wiggle.
Makes sense once you think about it. Every time you crank on a loose faucet, you're not just turning the handle. You're twisting the plumbing hidden inside your wall. Eventually something gives, and instead of replacing a hose bib, you're repairing drywall, insulation, paint... and whatever else the water decided to visit before you noticed.
It's one of those five-minute fixes that can prevent a five-figure headache.
So next time you're outside watering the flowers or washing the truck, grab the faucet and give it a little shake. If it moves, I'd make one phone call before it makes one very expensive one for you.
That's exactly the kind of stuff I like about Stark Plumbing. They don't just fix plumbing. They help you catch the little things before they become the big things.
(803) 866 - LEAK
The Bud Light Stage
BMG Are Trained to Answer Folks Who Are Trained to Ask Questions.
It starts with a knock at the door.
Or maybe a phone call.
"Can you come down to the station for a minute? We just want to ask you a few questions."
You're not under arrest.
You didn't do anything wrong.
At least... you don't think you did.
So you drive yourself over because, after all, if you've got nothing to hide, why wouldn't you?
An hour later you've said things you wish you'd worded differently, answered questions you didn't fully understand, and accidentally filled in blanks the investigators hadn't even connected yet.
Here's the thing.
Police officers are trained to ask questions.
Attorneys are trained to protect the people answering them.
That's why the smartest thing you can say isn't a long explanation.
It's, "I'd like to speak with my attorney first."
You don't need to wait until you're in trouble to ask for help. In fact, the best time to get legal advice is usually before you think you need it.
That's exactly why I'm glad BMG Attorneys is part of our Amp family. They're there for the moments when one phone call at the beginning can completely change how the rest of the story unfolds.
Backyard: When Where You Eat Matters As Much As What
Some places serve dinner.
Some places become where dinner turns into another hour because nobody wants to be the first one to leave.
That's my favorite part of The Backyard.
Under the lights, beneath the oak trees, with friends around the table, time has a funny way of slowing down. It's the kind of place where one more drink becomes another conversation, and another conversation becomes an evening you'll remember.
Julie Fischer summed it up pretty well:
"Amazing venue with food and drinks to match!"
We're grateful to everyone who has spent an evening with us so far, and even more grateful that so many of you have taken the time to share your experience with others.
If you haven't wandered through the gate yet, we'll have the lights on starting at 5.
Thursday: Trae Pierce & The T-Stones
After two hurricanes, one rainout, and what felt like a standing appointment with bad weather, Trae Pierce & The T-Stones finally made their long-awaited Bud Light Stage debut last summer.
It was worth every minute of the wait.
One minute you're dancing to Michael Jackson. The next it's Led Zeppelin, Prince, Stevie Wonder, the Beastie Boys, or Little Richard. Five-time Grammy-winning bassist Trae Pierce leads a band that doesn't just play songs. They throw a party where every genre gets invited.
If you missed them last year, now's your chance to see what all the fuss was about.
Join us Thursday as Trae Pierce & The T-Stones return to Amp the Alley to kick off July the only way they know how...
With a crowd on its feet.
Check out the recap from last year and the action packed gallery: https://www.ampthealley.com/post/trae-pierce-the-t-stones-bring-the-party