I spent 15 years, from 1990 to 2005, working in a radio format called "Commercial Alternative" in cities like Albany, N.Y.; St. Louis; and Philadelphia. When I started, it was the end of the underground "college rock" era, to be quickly replaced by the explosion we came to call "grunge." This sound morphed and developed (for better or worse), but became the new mainstream and eventually the classic rock of my generation. High on the list of grunge artists were Stone Temple Pilots, who managed to fit between the new-school Nirvanas and Pearl Jams while also evoking some past '70s rock glory for two reasons: the Zeppelin-influenced riff-rocking of the DeLeo brothers, who played guitar and bass and wrote most of their music, and the captivating presence of lead singer Scott Weiland, whose stage persona touched on legends like Jim Morrison, Mick Jagger and Robert Plant, and made him (along with Oasis' Liam Gallagher) one of the most fascinating frontmen of the era.

From Stone Temple Pilots' breakthrough with Core in 1992 through the entire decade, they delivered song after song that sounded amazing on the radio, sold millions of records and filled the world's biggest stages. Critics never warmed to them as they did STP's peers, and that might be why in the time after I left commercial-alternative radio, I pretty much forgot about them, and I hardly ever listened to STP in the past decade. They were a relic of my '90s, and after all those years and all those plays, I was burned out on them.

It seems I was not alone; with the band going through a series of breakups and reformations, the audience dwindled. Weiland proved adventurous if not successful with a series of solo albums that delved into his most artsy Bowie and Beatles fascinations, broken up by forays into a hard-rock abyss with fellow former '90s icons in Velvet Revolver, who scored a couple hard-rock successes in the mid-00s. But the moment had passed. The adventurous records fell on deaf ears, and Velvet Revolver eventually collapsed upon itself. The returns kept on diminishing, with solo tours scaling smaller and smaller, while Weiland continued to struggle with sobriety and recovery from decades of drug and alcohol abuse. Weiland had become a relic of the past, both musically and with his persona; try to think of the last time you saw someone so unabashedly hyper-sexualized in a masculine way — in terms of his lyrical content, attitude and performance — rock a stage to success in our post-indie 2010s.

On one hand, it's not at all surprising to hear of Scott Weiland's passing last night. When I first saw STP in the '90s, he was travelling with a helper whose only job was to make sure Weiland didn't slip out and do drugs. I met Weiland a few times over the years, and he always seemed ill at ease. Yet while his death is not surprising, it's still tragic, and I find myself thinking about his kids and his many friends and loved ones left behind.

But what is surprising for me today comes by going back and listening to the music: The melodies, the lyrics with their vague and elliptical nature, the crunching hard rock that inspired a million kids to run out to Guitar Center and form their own bands — it proves STP were one of the great bands of the '90s. The songs and Weiland's vocal performances totally hold up. And there's a reason why neither the DeLeos nor Weiland were able to duplicate their success without each other: Like most great rock bands, it was their combined talent (along with the times) that gave them their success.

I'm thinking of the Scott Weiland I saw perform in the early days — rail thin, shirtless, leather pants, slithering around the stage, singing into a megaphone for effect, and commanding our full attention from the moment he walked onstage. It is a drag that these days, the only way he has gotten our attention is through his death. I didn't even realize he was on the road and in our state — that's how far this icon had fallen professionally.

But the thing about recordings is that through them, we are always able to return to the artist at the moment of their greatness — and today as we reflect on a life sadly wasted, we also reflect on the art created. Like the work of many of his peers who have also departed (Kurt Cobain, Layne Staley), it is painful to dig into the lyrics that foreshadow his pain and demise. But for now, I hope that while we reflect on the sorrow the people in his life feel, we can also celebrate the music that reached millions during the time he was here with us.

RIP Scott Weiland. Thank you for your music.

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