Touch me I'm late.

Mudhoney @ Emo's. © Ryan Schierling

I never really had the opportunity to shoot Mudhoney when we lived in Seattle. I was ten years late on the grunge-fest, O.G. Charles Peterson-era, grainy, gritty Sub Pop love-in that spawned so many amazing photographs. I was shooting burgeoning indie-rock and figuratively, I figured I'd rather just let old dogs lie. Anyway, Charles already did those photos far more beautifully than anyone else could, fifty times over.

But it was always buried in the back of my brain.

My first experience with Mudhoney was in 1990 as a teen in Emporia, Kansas. My friend Gary had the self-titled Mudhoney cassette, and "Flat Out Fucked" ruptured the speakers in his beat-to-shit black Subaru on our way to school in the mornings. More than 20 years later, he'd never seen them either.

Last year, Gary was willing to fly all of us from Austin to Seattle to see Mudhoney play at The Crocodile, but it just didn't work out. So when I saw tour dates for late 2011 in Austin, I let him know, and I bought tickets.

The prominent "No Professional Photography without a Photo Pass" signs and big bouncers had me a little flummoxed at first (because I didn't even think to arrange for a photo pass), but a few beers and the realization that no one makes a professional living at live music photography anymore bolstered my spirits. I mean, I did this for a long, long time in Seattle, and if you want to throw me out for pointing a big camera at Mudhoney, then go right ahead – the Tacos El Rey truck is out there, so it's like tossing Brer Rabbit into the briar patch.

Mark Arm and Mudhoney put on an amazing show, and all I can say is... better late than never.