So you know the concept of the difficult sophomore
album, right? Oh, yeah, absolutely. It is the
classic industry cliche. Right, where there is
just that crushing pressure band's face to follow
up a massive debut hit immediately. Yeah, you
basically have your whole life to write your
first album, and then what, like six months to
write your second while you're exhausted on a
tour bus? Exactly. It is the make or break moment.
Yeah. But I want to throw a wrench in that gear
today for our deep dive. What happens when that
sophomore album doesn't take six months? What
happens when it takes a full 10 years? Well,
then you're usually talking about a very different
kind of beast. I mean, that's not a commercial
follow -up anymore. That is a total reinvention.
That is exactly where we are today. We are looking
at Scott Weiland. Oh, wow. OK. Yeah. And everyone
knows the hits. Stone Temple Pilots, Velvet Revolver,
the man was a rock icon, a frontman in the truest,
most charismatic sense of the word. But today
we're leaving the stadiums behind. Right. We
are zooming in on a very specific and honestly
somewhat chaotic but fascinating project. His
2008 solo release, Happy in Galoshes. I have
to say, I just love that title. It paints such
a weird specific picture. It really does. And
our mission for this deep dive is pretty clear
for you listening. We aren't just doing a standard
album review. We want to understand this specific
slice of time. This is a moment where personal
tragedy, a decade of pent -up creativity, and
some very diverse influences just all collided.
Yeah, they collided to create this sprawling,
completely polarizing monster of an album. It
really is a window into a turbulent time. Definitely.
And to guide us, we've pulled together a ton
of great sources. We've got the original production
notes, the chart history, the critical reception,
and some really revealing interviews Weiland
gave right when this thing dropped. It is a fascinating
case study of what happens when a rock star basically
goes rogue. So let's unpack this. First, we have
to look at the timeline because that 10 year
gap is significant. Weiland released his first
solo record, 12 bar blues. way back in 1998.
Which we should probably know was a huge critical
darling. It was very avant -garde and very distinct
from what he was doing in Stone Temple Pilots.
Completely. Yeah. And then just silence, at least
on the solo front. It isn't until November 2008
that Happy in Galoshes finally appears. That
is an absolute lifetime in the music industry.
Yeah. So why the wait? Well, obviously he was
busy conquering the world with Velvet Revolver
and dealing with the constant on -again -off
-again drama of STP. Right, of course. But looking
at the sources, Weiland himself actually makes
an interesting distinction between the two solo
albums. He gave an interview to the Pulse of
Radio, where he compared the two experiences
directly. Oh, really? What is he saying? He described
12 Bar Blues, that 1998 record, as a narcotic
journey. Wow, that is pretty candid. Very candid.
And knowing his history, it's probably an understatement,
but then he contrasts it with happy and galoshes.
He said the new one was a little bit more focused
specifically because he wasn't on that same narcotic
journey anymore. Focused is an interesting word
choice, though, because as we're going to see
today, this album is kind of all over the place
musically. It is, and he actually admitted that
in the exact same breath. He said it's still
sort of all over the map because his influences
are so wide and varied. Yeah, that makes sense.
But the key difference was the mental state.
He wasn't chasing a high sound. He was chasing
a sound. Crucially, he was doing it on his own
terms. I saw that in the production notes. This
wasn't a major label machine pushing him, was
it? Not at all. This was released on Soft Drive
Records. Which was? That was Weiland's own label.
And that context is vital for you to understand
this record. When you're on Atlantic or RCA,
you have... A and R guys in suits telling you
to cut the tracklist down, or telling you that
a song is too weird for radio. But when you own
the label, you answer to literally no one. You
have total creative autonomy. If you want to
put a Catholic hymn next to a David Bowie cover,
you just do it. Which perfectly explains why
this thing ended up being so massive. which we
will get to. But before we talk about the sound,
we have to talk about the headspace. Weiland
mentioned being focused, but the sources paint
a picture of a guy going through the absolute
wringer emotionally. It was an incredibly heavy
time. In an interview with MTV News from that
press cycle, Weiland didn't shy away from what
was fueling the songwriting. He pointed to two
major life events that anchored the album's themes.
The first being his marriage. Right. His separation
from Mary Forsberg. They had been husband and
wife for eight years. That's tough. It is a significant
chapter of life closing. And that heartbreak
is baked right into the DNA of these songs. You
can really hear the separation anxiety. And the
second one is even heavier, honestly. Yeah. The
death of his brother, Michael Weiland. That is
just tragic. And looking at the credits, There's
a detail here that really stops you in your tracks.
I think I know exactly what you're looking at.
Michael isn't just an inspiration for the songs
in an abstract way. He's actually on the album.
Yes. Michael Weiland is credited with playing
drums on the track, The Man I Didn't Know. Wow.
So when you listen to this record, it's not just
an artist mourning a loss. It is a posthumous
tribute featuring the person who was lost. It
adds this whole layer of ghostliness to the production.
You are hearing the brothers play together, preserved
forever on this track. That honestly gives me
chills. It really recontextualizes the whole
project for me. It moves it away from being just
a product and turns it into a memorial. It really
does. And Weiland actually used the word hodgepodge
to describe the album to MTV. He said it was
a hodgepodge inspired by those marital woes and
his brother's death. Which makes total sense.
Right. And I think that explains why the tone
shifts so drastically. Grief isn't linear. One
minute you're angry, the next you're manic, the
next you're just quietly reflective. Exactly.
It is messy. reflects that chaos perfectly. So
let's talk about how that chaos translated into
the actual sound. We've got this focus, but hodgepodge
emotional landscape. What actually comes out
of the speakers? Well, genre -wise, the sources
tag it as neo -psychedelia and alternative rock.
It is textured, it's layered, it's trippy. It
is definitely not a straight ahead hard rock
record, like you might expect from the Velvet
Revolver guy. And he had some serious help building
that sound. Who was behind the board? The main
production team was Weiland himself and his longtime
collaborator Doug Green. Doug Green played guitar
and bass on a lot of it too. They built these
lush, weird soundscapes together. But, and here's
a name that will perk up the ears of any audio
nerd select tracks were recorded by Steve Albini.
Steve Albini? Wait, the guy who did Nirvana and
the Pixies? The very same. The guy who famously
hates production tricks. That seems like such
a massive clash of styles. I mean, Weiland is
all about the glam, the layers, the Bowie -esque
theatricality. Albini is all about setting up
a microphone in a room and just hitting record.
It is a huge clash, but that tension is part
of what makes the album so interesting. You have
this polished psychedelic production from Weiland
and Green, but then you have that raw, abrasive
Albini touch cutting through on certain tracks.
It really keeps you on your toes. That is a fascinating
mix. But the credits list gets even weirder.
I was looking at the guest musicians and I had
to do a double take. Let me guess you saw the
No Doubt connection. I did. What is the entire
rhythm section of No Doubt? doing on a Scott
Weiland solo album. It's totally unexpected,
right? You've got Adrian Young on drums, Tony
Kanal on bass, and Tom Dumont on guitar. They
all appear on the track Paralysis. That feels
like such a 2008 collision of worlds. You have
the kings of SoCal, ska pop backing the king
of grunge. It really does feel that way. And
it shows that Weiland was just calling up friends
and people he genuinely respected. He wasn't
trying to build a super group necessarily. He
was just getting great players in the room. It
feels like a high budget jam session. among friends.
And speaking of collisions, we have to talk about
the cover songs. Because there is a name on the
credits that seems to loom large over Weiland's
entire career. David Bowie. Yes. Weiland covers
fame. He does. And not just a straight cover
either. He brings in Paul Oakenfold. The DJ.
The electronic music legend himself. So you have
Scott Weiland covering David Bowie with Paul
Oakenfold. It is this neo -psych dance -rock
hybrid. And the source notes that Weiland cited
Bowie as one of his main influences, anyway.
That makes total sense. Weiland always had that
chameleon -like quality that Bowie had. He was
always changing his look and his sound. Exactly.
But think about the meta -commentary there for
a second. Fame. Scott Weiland knew a thing or
two about the dark side of fame. He was incredibly
famous and incredibly scrutinized by the tabloids.
And here he is deconstructing a song about exactly
that over a club beat. It's almost self -satire.
It's definitely very self -aware. Now, we mentioned
earlier that he was on his own label, so he had
no one tell him no. And that brings us to the
sheer size of this thing. Oh, yeah. It is a beast
of an album. It was originally reported as a
double album, right? It was. And depending on
which version you bought, it basically was one.
Break down the versions for us so people know
what they're getting into. OK, so you have the
standard edition. That's already substantial.
It's 13 tracks, clocking in at about 52 minutes.
That is a full meal for an album. A very solid
LP length. But then you have the deluxe edition.
This adds a second disc with 10 extra tracks.
If you listen to the Deluxe version, the runtime
jumps to over 90 minutes. That is a feature film
length. That is asking a whole lot of the listener.
It is. And this is where that hodgepodge quality
really comes out in full force. The Deluxe edition
is where he really let his freak flag fly, especially
with the cover songs. We mentioned Bowie, but
there are some other surprising choices in there.
There are. He covers the Smiths. The Smiths.
Which song? Reel Around the Fountain. Man. That
is a deep cut. It really is. And it's a bold
choice for a grunge era icon to take on Morrissey
and Marr. But if you think about it, Morrissey
is the king of dramatic melancholy. Weiland was
in a deep depression. It actually fits perfectly.
He strips away the jangle and just leans into
the sadness of the track. Totally. It makes a
lot of sense when you put it that way. And then
he covers a band called Palo Alto with a song
called Some Things Must Go This Way. But the
one that stands out the most to me, the one that
really signals I am doing whatever I want, is
the track Be Not Afraid. The title sounds biblical.
It is. It's an untitled track on the album, but
it's actually a Catholic hymn written by Bob
Dufford. Wait like a church hymn, like something
you would hear at Sunday mass. A literal hymn,
and it closes out the standard album. You've
got songs about crashing and paralysis and fame,
and then a Catholic hymn telling you not to be
afraid. That is heavy. especially considering
the grief we talked about earlier. Precisely.
It feels like a moment of trying to find some
spiritual grounding after, like, 90 minutes of
sonic exploration. He's not looking for a pop
hook there. He's looking for salvation, or at
least peace. And again, going back to the label
situation. Yeah. No major label A &R rep is gonna
let you end a rock album with a Catholic hymn.
Never. They would've cut it immediately. That
is the sound of pure autonomy. And for those
who just wanted the hits if there were any on
a project like this, What were the key tracks
that people might actually recognize? Well, the
first single was Missing Cleveland. That's a
Green and Weiland co -write. It is probably the
most radio -friendly track on there. Then you
had Paralysis, which we mentioned with the No
Doubt guys, and another original called Crash.
Missing Cleveland sounds like such a classic
rock title. It definitely leans into that alternative
rock radio sensibility. It has a big chorus.
So he's got this double album. He's got No Doubt.
He's got hymns. How do you even begin to market
something like this in 2008? Ah, 2008. The great
transition era of the internet. I can literally
hear the dial -up tone in my head right now.
It wasn't quite dial -up, but it was definitely
the Web 2 .0 Wild West. The marketing strategy
relied really heavily on MySpace. Of course it
did. The golden age of the top eight. Exactly.
The album was available to preview on Scott Weiland's
MySpace page. They released Missing Cleveland
there first. Spin .com was also a big... They
had exclusive streams of Paralysis and Crash.
It was very blog -focused promotion. And did
they do some kind of video series, too? Yes,
they did webisodes. They released four webisodes
directed by Rocco Garino to promote Crash. It
was very much about giving fans that behind -the
-scenes digital access that was just becoming
popular then, just clips of him in the studio
being scoffed. And I saw something in the notes
about a fan vote. That's right. In early 2009,
they announced a campaign where fans could vote
for the second single. The choices were Paralysis
Blind Confusion or Killing Me Sweetly. That is
actually pretty forward thinking. Engaging the
base before engagement was a corporate marketing
buzzword. It was really smart. But despite the
innovative marketing and the massive name attached,
the commercial performance was modest. What are
the actual numbers? It debuted at number 97 on
the Billboard 200. Ouch. For a guy who played
arenas, that is a thud. Yeah. It sold about 10
,500 copies in the first week. By STP standards,
that is a blip. That is a rounding error. But
maybe that is just the trade -off for creative
control. Exactly. It wasn't designed to be Interstate
Love Song Part 2, and the reviews reflected that
completely. The critics were totally divided.
It was a love it or hate it kind of situation.
Completely. On the positive side, All Music gave
it 4 out of 5 stars. They loved the ambition
of it. Rolling Stone gave it a respectable 3
.5. They appreciated the texture and the weirdness.
But not everyone was on board, clearly. No. Entertainment
Weekly gave it a C minus. A C minus. That is
rough. That is barely passing. It is. But their
argument was valid from a pop perspective. They
thought it was a mess. Too long, too self -indulgent.
And to be fair, when you release a 90 -minute
double album with hymns and synth pop covers,
you're going to alienate the people who just
want a tight rock record. It sounds like he was
making it for himself first and foremost. That
is absolutely the feeling you get. This was catharsis.
This was purging the system. Now, looking back
from where we stand today, this album holds a
very specific and kind of sad place in history.
It does. It stands as Scott Weiland's final main
solo album of original material released during
his lifetime. That is a really sobering fact.
He did release another solo album in 2011 called
The Most Wonderful Time of the Year, but that
was a Christmas cover album. Right. Traditional
songs. White Christmas and all that. Exactly.
So if you want to know what was going on in Scott
Weiland's creative mind, what he was writing,
what he was feeling, what he wanted to say to
the world, happy and galoshes, is effectively
the final chapter of his original solo songwriting.
It is the last transmission. It is. And that
gives it a weight that maybe people didn't appreciate
back in 2008 when they were just voting for singles
on MySpace. Back then it was just Scott's weird
new project. Now it is Scott's final statement.
It really changes how you listen to it. It forces
you to listen closer. You are hearing an Argus
trying to make sense of his world, the divorce,
the death of his brother, the fame, and just
putting it all on tape without a filter. So let's
recap this journey for everyone listening. We've
got a rock icon stepping away from his massive
bands to make a record on his own indie label.
It takes 10 full years to arrive. And he is grieving
his brother and the end of his marriage. He brings
in everyone from Steve Albini to the drummer
of No Doubt. He covers David Bowie and the Smiths.
And he caps it all off with a literal Catholic
hymn. And the result is this polarizing, sprawling
double album that sells modestly, that stands
as his final original solo statement. That is
the story of Happy and Galoshes. It is messy,
it is long, but it is painfully real. You know,
before we go, I want to leave you with one final
thought to mull over. Think about that title
again. Happy and Galoshes. It is very evocative.
We know the album is full of tragedy. We know
it's focused but chaotic. So is that title ironic?
Is he making a joke about pretending to be happy?
I have thought about that a lot. Galoshes are
rain boots. You wear them when it is storming
outside. Right. So maybe it is not irony. Think
about a kid in rain boots. They don't hate the
rain. They jump in the puddles. They are resilient.
That is a beautiful way to look at it. Maybe
amidst the divorce and the death and all the
chaos he was trying to find that feeling again.
That ability to stand in the rain and just be
okay. To be happy in galoshes. Finding the joy
in the storm. I think that is the perfect place
to leave it for today. I totally agree. If you
haven't listened to the album or if you skipped
it back in 2008 because of the mixed reviews,
go give it a spin. It is a lot to digest, but
it is definitely worth the time. Thanks for taking
this deep dive with us. Always a pleasure. And
to everyone listening, we will catch you on the
next deep dive.