The Rock N’ Roll True Stories podcast

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Welcome to 🎸RNR True Stories🎸 where we share the most outrageous music stories in the history of Rock N' Roll. Weekly episodes about feuds, untimely deaths, career killers and awkward moments. Join over 600,000 fans on YouTube @rnrtruestories. Disclaimer

Episodes

  1. 5D AGO

    Boggy Depot: Jerry Cantrell's Solo Survival

    The story of Jerry cantrell of Alice in Chains debut solo record Boggy Depot   Jerry Cantrell’s first solo album emerges from the slow-motion collapse of Alice in Chains at the height of their fame. At their peak, the band’s blend of heaviness and haunting beauty, especially on the landmark album Dirt, made them one of the most important groups of the early ’90s. But the addiction and despair captured in the music reflected reality, particularly Layne Staley’s worsening heroin dependency, which derailed tours and strained relationships. By the mid‑’90s, canceled tours, internal distance, and emotional burnout pushed the band to the brink, even as acoustic release Jar of Flies debuted at number one and confirmed their popularity. Around this time, members began drifting into side projects. Layne explored Mad Season, while Jerry quietly started experimenting with solo material at home, jamming and demoing songs that would partly resurface on Alice in Chains’ self‑titled album. That 1995 record gave Jerry a larger vocal role and sounded like a band suffocating under its own weight, with minimal touring. The 1996 MTV Unplugged performance became a fragile, heartbreaking showcase of both their power and their fragility, capped by Layne’s final shows on a short KISS support run that ended after a near‑fatal overdose. With the band effectively frozen and Layne retreating from public life, Jerry found himself full of ideas but without his primary creative outlet. Solo work became less an ego move and more a survival mechanism. Having already dipped a toe in with “Leave Me Alone” for The Cable Guy soundtrack, Jerry decided to pursue a full album as the Seattle scene shifted toward electronic sounds and away from guitar‑driven rock. Wrestling with his own drug issues, romantic turmoil, and professional uncertainty, he chose to pour everything into new songs. In interviews, he admitted he never truly wanted to go solo, but circumstances forced him to “step up to the plate” and find a way forward. Recording began in 1997 with producer Toby Wright, who had worked on Jar of Flies and the self‑titled Alice in Chains album, giving the new material a sense of continuity. Longtime drummer Sean Kinney played on all tracks, and bassist Mike Inez contributed, making the sessions feel like a ghostly extension of the band. At the same time, Jerry broadened the palette with guests like Rex Brown of Pantera, Angelo Moore and John Norwood Fisher of Fishbone, and Les Claypool of Primus, pushing the sound into funkier, more experimental and country‑tinged territory. Jerry also expanded his role as a multi‑instrumentalist, adding piano, organ, and more to the arrangements. The album’s title and artwork drew directly from his Oklahoma roots and his fascination with Apocalypse Now, symbolizing a muddy, spiritual trek through personal chaos. Musically, the record maintained his signature sludgy riffs and layered harmonies while leaning into country storytelling, dark dirges, and adventurous textures. Singles like “Cut You In” and “My Song” showed he could still land rock radio hits and sustain a moody atmosphere without Layne, even as videos and imagery emphasized psychological horror and inner turmoil. Released in 1998 after a delay, the album received mixed but respectful reviews and debuted solidly on the charts. Some listeners heard it as proof of how much of Alice in Chains’ sound came from Jerry; others felt it lacked cohesion. Touring with a handpicked band and mixing solo material with Alice in Chains songs, Jerry kept his career alive while the future of the group remained uncertain. The record ultimately functions as a bridge: a document of grief, identity crisis, and resilience that carried him from the ashes of Alice in Chains toward later work like Degradation Trip and, eventually, the rebirth of the band with a new lineup.   Follow us on YouTube @rnrtruestories

    19 min

  2. MAR 4

    Seether's "Careless Whisper": The Prank That Became a Hit

    The story of Seether's cover of George Michael and Wham! song Careless Whisper By the mid-2000s, Seether had established themselves as a legitimate force in rock music. Following their 2002 breakthrough with "Fine Again," the South African band achieved mainstream success with their 2004 duet "Broken" featuring Amy Lee of Evanescence, which peaked at number 20 on the Billboard Hot 100. However, this success threatened to pigeonhole them as a radio-friendly ballad act. In response, they doubled down on their heavier sound with 2005's Karma and Effect, an album that debuted at number 8 on the Billboard 200 and established them as authentic post-grunge artists defined by drop-tuned guitars, distorted riffs, and frontman Shaun Morgan's dynamic vocal range. By 2006, however, the band was struggling. Morgan had entered rehab, his ex-girlfriend Amy Lee publicly aired their relationship drama in the song "Call Me When You're Sober," guitarist Pat Callahan departed due to touring exhaustion, and Morgan's brother Eugene tragically took his own life. The year was brutal, but it produced one of their most personal and successful albums: 2007's Finding Beauty in Negative Spaces. The album debuted at number 9 on the Billboard 200 and featured emotionally raw tracks like "Rise Above This," written by Morgan for his deceased brother. Despite their artistic authenticity, their record label Wind-up Records made a tone-deaf request: they wanted a Valentine's Day love song for commercial release. For a band built on finding beauty in negative spaces and railing against industry superficiality, this was insulting. Their response was pure sarcasm—they would create the most over-the-top, dramatic love song imaginable: a cover of George Michael's 1984 classic "Careless Whisper." The transformation was surgical. The iconic saxophone was replaced with a heavily distorted, groaning lead guitar. The smooth synth rhythm became aggressive drumming and a thick bass line. Most importantly, Shaun Morgan's gritty, pained vocal delivery twisted George Michael's heartfelt regret into dark irony and self-loathing. What began as a mockery accidentally became a genuinely compelling rock song—the original's strong songwriting proved undeniable even through layers of distortion. The label didn't understand the joke. Instead of seeing sarcasm, they recognized a potential hit. Released initially as a B-side bonus track, the song gained unexpected traction online and eventually peaked at number 64 on the Billboard Hot 100 while hitting number 4 on the Mainstream Rock chart. In 2009, the label reissued Finding Beauty in Negative Spaces with "Careless Whisper" as an official bonus track, complete with an 8-bit animated music video. The prank had catastrophically backfired. The cover split Seether's fanbase completely. Purists viewed it as either a silly novelty or worse—a sellout move that contradicted everything the band stood for. Meanwhile, a massive new audience embraced it as a brilliant rock reinvention, with many discovering Seether through the cover. Morgan later acknowledged that some older fans would "stare and flip us off" during live performances due to homophobia attached to covering a George Michael song. Today, "Careless Whisper" remains a footnote in their catalog—absent from recent setlists but forever part of their legacy. It's a perfect encapsulation of how artist intent and audience reception can diverge, proving that sometimes a joke can accidentally create something genuinely worth loving.   Follow us on YouTube @rnrtruestories

    18 min

  3. FEB 20

    Pearl Jam's Night with a Neil Diamond cover band

    The story of Song Sung Blue and Pearl Jam's bizarre night with a Neil Diamond tribute band.   The Hollywood film Song Sung Blue loosely tells a story based on the real-life Neil Diamond tribute duo Lightning and Thunder from Milwaukee, Mike and Claire Sardina. The pair are down-on-their-luck performers who reinvent themselves as a high-energy Neil Diamond act playing fairs, casinos, and small venues across the Midwest from the late 1980s into the 2000s. A key scene in the film shows Eddie Vedder inviting them to open for Pearl Jam and perform onstage with him, which prompts the question of how much of this story is actually true.  Next, I trace the origins of Lightning and Thunder, starting with Clare walking into a Milwaukee band audition in 1987 and later being recruited by bandleader Mike Sardina to join his Neil Diamond tribute idea. Mike, a Vietnam veteran and auto mechanic, throws himself into the persona, studying The Jazz Singer and adopting sequined shirts, bell-bottoms, and sideburns, while Claire becomes a powerful vocalist impersonating artists like Patsy Cline and Barbra Streisand. They build a devoted following on the Wisconsin State Fair and festival circuit, even getting married onstage in front of their fans and becoming local heroes who embody the dream of turning unabashed showmanship into a life. From there, the story collides with the rise of Pearl Jam and the grunge era, which at first seems worlds away from a glittery Neil Diamond tribute act. The narrator describes how rumors circulated that Pearl Jam once had a Neil Diamond tribute band open for them in Wisconsin, though official records do not show such an opener. Instead, the real connection comes through Eddie Vedder, a Neil Diamond fan who learns about Lightning and Thunder and invites them onstage during Pearl Jam’s July 8, 1995 Summerfest show at Milwaukee’s Marcus Amphitheater in front of roughly 24,000 fans. The highlight of the night is not a Pearl Jam deep cut but a joyous cover of Neil Diamond’s Forever in Blue Jeans, performed by Mike and Claire with Vedder, creating a brief, surreal union of grunge icons and tribute-band showmanship. That performance becomes the pinnacle of Lightning and Thunder’s career and a cherished local legend, effectively turning them into a small but memorable footnote in rock history. However, the story also recounts the tragedy that followed: in the late 1990s Clare is hit by a runaway car, suffering life-altering injuries that end their performing career and lead to financial hardship, and Mike dies in 2006 without ever meeting Neil Diamond. Claire eventually meets Neil Diamond backstage at a Milwaukee show, an emotional encounter described by her brother, columnist Jim Stingl, where Diamond treats her warmly and promises she can be his guest whenever he returns. Filmmaker Greg Kohs later makes the 2008 documentary Song Sung Blue, with Eddie Vedder reportedly helping secure music rights and including real footage of the 1995 performance. The story closes by noting that the new Hollywood film (starring Hugh Jackman and Kate Hudson) will bring Lightning and Thunder’s tale of love, sequins, and unlikely musical friendship to an even wider audience, underlining how music history is also written by local tribute acts and dreamers, not just superstars.   Follow us on YouTube @rnrtruestories

    10 min

  4. FEB 11

    Michael Bolton's $5 Million dollar mistake - the most expensive theft in songwriting history

    The story of Michael Bolton's Disastrous Songwriting Lawsuit   Today I tell the story of one of the most famous and costly music plagiarism cases in history: the legal war between the Isley Brothers and Michael Bolton over the song “Love Is a Wonderful Thing.” It opens by framing the conflict as a battle of soul versus pop, legacy versus chart success, and explains that a little-known 1964 Isley Brothers track became the center of a multimillion-dollar lawsuit that forced the music industry to reconsider where inspiration ends and infringement begins. Decades later, Michael Bolton, now a massively successful pop-soul balladeer, releases his own “Love Is a Wonderful Thing” in 1991, a polished power ballad and major hit that helps his album sell 8 million copies. For most listeners, Bolton’s song completely eclipses the Isleys’ forgotten original. The turning point comes when Ronald and Ernie Isley hear Bolton’s track in a furniture store. At first, Ronald is pleased—until he checks the credits and finds no mention of the Isleys. Feeling disrespected and dismissed after trying to resolve the issue quietly, the group eventually sues Bolton, his co-writer Andrew Goldmark, and Sony Music in 1992. The case, Three Boys Music Corp. v. Bolton, centers on two issues: whether Bolton had access to the Isleys’ song and whether the two works are substantially similar. Bolton insists he never heard the original and argues that it was too obscure to have influenced him. The Isleys’ team counters by portraying Bolton as a lifelong soul fan who likely encountered the song, citing his own praise of Ronald Isley and testimony that he claimed to know “everything” the singer had done. They argue this could be a classic case of subconscious plagiarism. Musicological testimony focuses on the shared hook, particularly the way the phrase “Love is a wonderful thing” is sung in both songs—the long “Love” note followed by a similar melodic descent. A key moment occurs when work tapes from Bolton’s writing sessions reveal him asking if his melody sounds too much like a Marvin Gaye song, showing he was drawing heavily on 1960s soul and worried about similarity, even if he cited the wrong reference. Ultimately, a jury finds Bolton, Goldmark, and Sony liable for infringement. In the damages phase, the jury concludes that Bolton’s song significantly drove album profits and that much of the song’s success came from the infringing elements, resulting in a $5.4 million judgment—then the largest award in a music plagiarism case. Bolton reacts angrily, suggesting the verdict involved racial bias, and spends years appealing, all the way to the U.S. Supreme Court, which refuses to hear the case, leaving the verdict intact. In a strange epilogue, Bolton later tries—and fails—to buy the Isley Brothers’ catalog during Ronald Isley’s bankruptcy. This video closes by emphasizing the case’s lasting impact: it cemented subconscious plagiarism as a serious legal risk, made labels more cautious, and stands as a cautionary tale about how memory, influence, and ownership collide in popular music. I cite my sources and they may differ than other people's accounts, so I don't guarantee the actual accuracy of my videos.   Follow us on YouTube @rnrtruestories

    16 min

  5. FEB 11

    Why Queensrÿche fired Geoff Tate: The Backstage brawl and the lawsuits

    The story of why Geoff Tate was fired from Queensrÿche   A groundbreaking progressive metal band fractures from the inside, and the story begins in 2012, when Queensrÿche is literally at war with itself. Two rival lineups are touring under the same name: one featuring most of the classic members with a new singer, the other led by original frontman Geoff Tate and a fresh backing band. Fans are confused, the brand is tarnished, and a pioneering “thinking man’s metal” band is publicly cannibalizing its own legacy. This rewinds to the rise: early‑80s Bellevue, Washington, where Michael Wilton, Chris DeGarmo, Eddie Jackson, Scott Rockenfield, and eventually Geoff Tate forge Queensrÿche’s cerebral style. Operation: Mindcrime and Empire turn them into critical and commercial heavyweights, but even at their peak, exhaustion and tension simmer beneath the surface. DeGarmo, the key songwriter, voices burnout and ambivalence as early as the Empire era before officially leaving in 1997, later pivoting to a career as a commercial pilot. His departure permanently scrambles the band’s internal balance. Into that vacuum, Tate’s influence grows. In the mid‑2000s, his wife Susan becomes the band’s manager and his stepdaughter helps run the fan club, blurring lines between band business and family business. Other members claim in legal documents that they feel sidelined and financially exposed, alleging nepotism and questionable accounting, while Tate’s camp insists Susan stepped in reluctantly and professionally. Creative control shifts toward Tate and outside writers, leaving longtime bandmates feeling creatively shut out and financially suspicious, with resentments building silently for years. The breaking point comes in São Paulo, Brazil, in April 2012. After learning that his wife and stepdaughter have been fired by the rest of the band, Tate confronts them backstage. What happens next becomes a central dispute: the remaining members describe spitting, equipment being knocked over, and punches thrown; Tate admits to losing his temper and getting physical but disputes parts of their version. The band finishes the show with security onstage, but internally, the relationship is dead. Weeks later, Wilton, Jackson, and Rockenfield vote to fire Tate. What follows is a bizarre legal and branding war. Tate sues for wrongful termination and claims rights to the Queensrÿche name, while the other members recruit Todd La Torre and continue under the same banner. For a time, two competing Queensrÿches tour and release albums simultaneously, deepening fan division and industry confusion. Eventually, a 2014 settlement gives Wilton and Jackson full rights to the name, while Tate gets limited rights to perform key concept albums and later launches a new band, Operation: Mindcrime, plus solo and side projects. The episode closes on the long tail of the fallout: later lawsuits among remaining members, parallel careers (Queensrÿche with La Torre and Tate as a solo/Project leader), and a legacy permanently split. Rather than a single dramatic collapse, the band’s implosion is framed as a slow decay: the loss of a central songwriter, the entangling of family and business, communication breakdown, and one explosive moment of violence that makes reconciliation impossible. The story becomes a cautionary tale about ego, control, and how a band built on intricate, intelligent music can be undone by very basic human conflicts.   Follow us on YouTube @rnrtruestories

    13 min

  6. FEB 11

    Stabbed, Shot At, and Dropped by a Major Label: The Totally Chill Story of Corrosion of Conformity

    This story traces the history of Corrosion of Conformity from their formation as Raleigh teenagers in 1982 through their evolution from hardcore punk into southern‑tinged metal and politically charged heavy rock. It describes early lineup instability, relentless DIY touring, and how their provocative flyers and outspoken left‑leaning views on issues like the Cold War, environmental destruction, and police brutality put them at odds with local authorities but helped define their identity. Key early releases like Eye for an Eye, Animosity, and especially Blind mark the shift toward metal, greater musical sophistication, and more pointed political commentary, even as they endure stabbings, being shot at, and clashes with critics who accuse them of promoting violence. The story then focuses on their 1990s commercial peak and subsequent decline, highlighting Pepper Keenan’s rise from second guitarist to frontman and the creation of landmark albums Deliverance and Wiseblood, which blended heavy southern grooves with radio‑ready songs like “Clean My Wounds” and Grammy‑nominated “Drowning in a Daydream.” Despite touring with Danzig, Soundgarden, and Metallica, going gold with Deliverance, and earning MTV and radio exposure, label politics and changing trends (especially the rise of nu metal and pop‑punk) leave the band undersold, misunderstood, and ultimately dropped by Columbia. Internal tensions, Reed Mullin’s back injury and addiction, Keenan’s growing commitment to supergroup Down, and lukewarm commercial response to later albums like America’s Volume Dealer push the band into a long hiatus. In the 2010s, the narrative turns to resilience and reinvention as the classic punk‑era trio reforms, reconnecting with their raw roots before Pepper Keenan’s full return leads to the 2018 album No Cross, No Crown, their highest‑charting release ever and a creative rebirth. Even after founding drummer Reed Mullin’s death in 2020 and founding bassist Mike Dean’s amicable departure in 2024, the band chooses to carry on with new members Bobby Landgraf and Stanton Moore and a planned 2025 album. The video closes by framing Corrosion of Conformity as enduring underdogs who outlasted trends, labels, and personal tragedy by refusing to compromise who they are. Follow us on YouTube @rnrtruestories

    29 min
  • 6 Episodes

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Welcome to 🎸RNR True Stories🎸 where we share the most outrageous music stories in the history of Rock N' Roll. Weekly episodes about feuds, untimely deaths, career killers and awkward moments. Join over 600,000 fans on YouTube @rnrtruestories. Disclaimer

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