The Dark Secret of Portland’s Roseland Theater

Gram Parsons’ Friends Stole His Body and Burned It

There are a good many outlaw country artists. But Gram Parsons might be the only one whose outlaw status followed him to the grave...and then back out of it. In this episode of Tape Spaghetti, Scott & Blake dig up the unbelievable life and afterlife of Gram Parsons, a country-rock visionary who pushed musical boundaries while battling self-destructive habits exacerbated by the intensity of fame. Parsons dropped out of Harvard and landed in the chaotic chaos of the Laurel Canyon scene, bouncing between The Byrds, the Flying Burrito Brothers, and collaborations with a litany of country music legends. A true vanguard, he even outdid the 27 Club by, tragically, fatally overdosing at just 26 years old. Unbelievably, his story doesn't end there. What followed was a coffin hijacking, LOTS of tequila, and an outlaw cremation under the stars of Joshua Tree. Here's how country's greatest wild child continued to build his legend from beyond the grave.

The Beach Boys Made a Rap Song… And That’s Not the Worst Part

The Beach Boys undoubtedly changed pop music forever. But they also cut an album so strange that it's basically been erased from music history. In this episode of Tape Spaghetti, Scott & Blake take a look at Summer in Paradise, the Beach Boys' bizarre attempt at reclaiming their throne with a "modern" summer soundtrack. With Brian Wilson out of the picture, the Mike Love-led Beach Boys wanted to see if they could get lightning to strike twice after the unlikely success of "Kokomo." The result was a fully digital, Pro Tools-powered sound experiment packed with synthetic everything, recycled ideas, and... a Beach Boys rap?? Here's how a band once at the forefront of pop innovation chased its own past to the tune of album so bad it hurts.

Waylon Jennings, Cocaine, and a DEA Raid Gone Wrong

Waylon Jennings didn't just sing songs about being an outlaw. He genuinely became one. In this week's Tape Spaghetti, Scott & Blake discuss the life and legend of Waylon Jennings, who went from small-town disc-jockey to Buddy Holly's bandmate to one of country's greatest rebels. Back when Nashville was a highly polished music machine, Jennings forged his own gritty sound... and even grittier lifestyle. It all culminated in a raid of his recording studio by DEA agents in search a suspicious package, which vanished in just about the most absurd way possible. Here's the story of Waylon Jennings as a myth-making outlaw country star, the tension between artists and Nashville overlords, and a dash of true crime that seems too crazy to be true.

Neil Young Got SUED for Not Sounding Like… Himself?

A big ol' multi-million-dollar record deal, a rebel artist, a major corporate label, and "total creative freedom." What could possibly go wrong? In this episode of Tape Spaghetti, Scott and Blake unravel the chaotic 1980s era of Neil Young. When Young let his artistic spirit soar into downright experimental territory, his own label, Geffen, sued him for not being “Neil Young enough.” While the album he delivered technically fit the contract, it certainly didn't meet expectations. Fans were confused, executives were pissed, and Young was accused of fulfilling the brief in an act of pure sabotage. The lawsuit that followed shook the industry. Was the artist in the right for boldly embodying his creative identity, or did Geffen have cause to react on behalf of Young's frustrated fans? Here's how Neil Young's foray into synth-heavy rockabilly music actually spoke to a larger argument over who *actually* owns an artist's signature sound.

The Dark Secret of Portland’s Roseland Theater

As a native Pacific-Northwesterner with roots in the music scene, our very own Blake Wyland is verifiably Portland-proud. But this week he delves into one of the city's darkest stories...with shocking ties to a beloved rock venue. This episode of Tape Spaghetti takes you inside the history of Portland’s Roseland Theater, previously known as the Starry Night nightclub—where the town's vibrant music culture masked something incredibly sinister. Sure, lots of clubs engage in semi-shady operations, but in this case, a story about a scrappy rock venue quickly twists into a full-blown crime saga involving counterfeit tickets, a volatile owner, a group of deeply suspicious insiders, and an employee who gets too close to exposing the truth. When things take a violent turn, the aftermath is as unsettling as the crime itself. No body. Lingering mystery. How the heck did this story stay hidden for so long?