Music, in itself, is a transcendental medium. In its purest form, it can provide an otherworldly experience that exorcises emotions, and lays down a path for healing. It also brings people together from all walks of life. Not everyone recognizes this power, but those who do, understand the higher calling of being an artist. Nineties Seattle was a breeding ground for creative alchemy, but one of the finest examples was Mad Season's singular album, Above.

30 years later, Above has retained its status as one of Seattle's most important musical contributions. Released in 1995, the album represented a tonal shift that would define the rest of the decade. At the decade's midpoint, the grunge luster was wearing off and many of the bands' music was becoming more defiant, apprehensive of fame, capitalism, and their effects. Out of the chaos, Mad Season arose.

My best memory of Layne was when we were making the "Above" album."He was in the studio lounge reading Kahlil Gibran's "The Prophet." I had read it a few years earlier, so we started talking about what it meant to be an artist and have a spiritual message. I don't need to get into the specifics of the conversation, but suffice it to say that Layne Staley felt as though he was on a spiritual mission through his music. Not a rock mission, a spiritual mission. And I think that is evident in his words and in the timbre of his voice. When you hear it, you know it. He was an authentic artist in a time of imposters. - Barrett Martin

Mad Season's original lineup included guitarist Mike McCready (Pearl Jam), percussionist Barrett Martin (Screaming Trees), vocalist Layne Staley (Alice in Chains), and bassist John Baker Saunders (Walkabouts). McCready and Saunders met at a rehab facility in Minnesota, then recruited Martin upon their return to Seattle. Lastly, Staley was brought on board not only to round out the group but because the other members thought it would be a space to encourage his sobriety.

Originally named the Gacy Bunch, the group renamed themselves Mad Season, which was derived from an English term for when hallucinogenic mushrooms reach full bloom.

It seems that Above was created in a whirlwind. Recorded in about two weeks following only a handful of shows, Above was a rainbow among the storm brewing in Seattle, when lightning in a bottle phenomena were happening regularly. As quickly as Mad Season appeared, they were gone, but it was a sight to behold while the band did exist, and left a beautiful residue in its wake. It's a testament to what happens when community joins together in pursuit of something greater.

Going in, I knew that listening to Above was not going to be an easy experience. While I love the album, it became synonymous with a difficult breakup—a breakup with a person who struggles with addiction, at that. Any time I listen to Mad Season, I am forced to reckon with the repressed emotions that accompany loving someone I wanted to save from themselves.

The album opens with "Wake Up," a harrowing plea. The first line, "Wake Up," is an immediate call to action. With minimal instrumentals in its first minutes, Staley's voice barrels out of the sound system, which feels eerie as he sings the poignant lyrics "For ten long years... The leaves to rake us... Slow suicide's no way to go..."

The beauty of Mad Season is that the band allowed Staley full creative license to just... be. "Wake Up" allows Staley's vocal power to shine. McCready, Martin, and Saunders take their time playing, following Stayley's lead. "River of Deceit" equally as powerful as "Wake Up," allows Staley to showcase his songwriting skills.

My pain is self-chosen
At least so the prophet says
I could either burn
Or cut off my pride and buy some time

McCready's frenzied shredding builds up as Staley reaches a crescendo. Known for his explosive solos, McCready is completely unhinged throughout Above, but in the best of ways.

The band is joined by Mark Lanegan (Screaming Trees) in "I'm Above" and "Long Gone Day." Lanegan and Staley's harmonizing is hypnotic. Lanegan's smooth whiskey baritone voice always evokes a sense of nostalgia. I've even heard his voice described as the perfect companion for a long, winding road trip, as wherever you need to go, Lanegan's voice "will get you there."

"November Hotel" is a magnificent jam session that is the epitome of creative serendipity. Without lyrics, the song is merely an explosion of each musician at their best. It's a manifestation of years worth of frustration, a musical exorcism. It's joy and anger all rolled into seven minutes of whiplash. Like an airplane, McCready's riffs take off, soaring above Martin's percussion. One of the unsung musicians of the Seattle scene, Martin is a spectacle as he unleashes (he also plays cello, marimba, and other percussion on the album). Saunders is also underrated, as his heavy bass line is like a pulse.

The album ends gently with "Alone," following the fire storm that is "November Hotel." Simple and understated, "Alone" seems meditative, but not cynical. It's a comedown from the musical high.

In an interview with the Seattle Channel's Art Zone, McCready speaks on the formation of Mad Season and his naivety in trying to help his bandmates achieve sobriety. Speaking from experience, you can try to do everything in your power to help someone, but in the end, they have to decide to change. It's a bittersweet revelation, but Above inspired many individuals to make that big decision.

Layne Staley achieved his mission.

In terms of spirituality, when someone becomes a vessel for change or spreading a message, they are not always perfect. In fact, their humanity is what endears them to the masses. Mad Season's Above was a one-time occurrence, but it continues to deliver its message 30 years later. Luckily, McCready and Martin are still spreading the message in their own ways. Staley, Saunders, and Lanegan are no longer with us, but their music remains. The immortality of Above lies within the bravery and vulnerability of its members. The path of an artist is the road less traveled by, but Above shows us that we aren't really alone. There are other voices out there that can take us down the crossroads.