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Toes Across the Floor: Remembering Shannon Hoon

by Pete Crigler

On October 21, 1995, Shannon Hoon left his hotel room in New Orleans after talking to his girlfriend on the phone. He had been awake most of the night partying, as he’d been the past few days, and decided to take a nap on the band’s bus. The bus was parked near Tipitina’s, a small New Orleans venue the band was supposed to play that night. Around mid-afternoon, it was time for soundcheck and the band’s soundman climbed aboard the bus to wake Hoon, but he was unresponsive. Paramedics were called and it was soon realized that Hoon, just turned 28 had died in his sleep. Autopsy results wouldn’t be made public for a few weeks but as soon as the news was made public, pretty much everyone knew the cause.

Thirty years on, the legacy of Hoon and Blind Melon has only grown exponentially. In 1995, the band were cast off as one hit wonders and victims of the sophomore slump and after his death, the band were relegated to the dustbin of ’90s history. In summer 2025, the reunited band played Red Rocks in Colorado for the very first time, opening for hippie-pop rockers O.A.R. They started playing shows for the first time since 2019, one of the last bands to pick things back up after the pandemic (looking at you Reel Big Fish). While “No Rain” may still remain their most popular song, it’s not a song I really listen to at all anymore. This band can still wring all sorts of emotions from me.

In April of 2025, I went up into the mountains outside of Lynchburg, VA with my family to scatter the ashes of my grandparents. It was very emotional, deep and resonant and connective. As we went our separate ways, I made a little playlist on YouTube for my drive back through the mountains down into town and one song was “Toes Across the Floor,” from Soup. The song was going to be the second single off the record and they had already shot a video. Shannon’s vocals toward the end get to the highest end of his pitch and it’s just a great moment in alt rock. Anyway, I was listening to my playlist including Bob Seger and Killing Joke when “Toes” came on. I wasn’t even out of the mountains yet but I found myself singing along as loud as my voice would take me, crying my eyes out the whole time. That’s just what good music is supposed to do: hit you in the fucking chest and make you feel everything you’re supposed to feel in whatever moment you’re experiencing. That’s what Blind Melon and Hoon’s voice has always done to me.

In the amazing Danny Clinch documentary about Shannon, drawn from his own home movies on the road and beyond, you can really see how quickly Blind Melon shot into the stratosphere in 1993. They were seemingly everywhere for a minute and then when Soup came out in August 1995, it was all over. Before the album’s release, they had been touring Europe with Page/Plant and playing shows with Neil Young. Then the album bombed, only hitting number 28 and getting a 1.5 star review from the tastemakers at Rolling Stone. The making of the album was troubled in New Orleans as Hoon reveled in drug use and began spiraling, hampering the album’s and the band’s progress. He was an expectant first-time father and this was reflected in the lyrics of one of the best and most poignant tracks on the album, “New Life.” The album’s summer release was delayed a month to allow Hoon some time at home with his newborn before the promotional grind kicked into overdrive.

During August and September ’95, the band were on Letterman, 120 Minutes and a full show from the studios of MuchMusic. The atmosphere was light and the band was having fun, if Hoon didn’t quite look as good as early ’94. The band’s management had hired a minder to help keep Hoon off drugs, but without much success. Unfortunately, the other members were indulging as well, which helped Hoon slip back into his habit rather quickly. From about the middle of September, the quality of the band’s performances started slipping and Hoon’s voice started sounding a bit ravaged. In video of that era, it definitely looks as if he’s not sleeping.

As the tour rolled on into October, the band have said that Shannon was acting erratically offstage and they were trying what they could to get him to slow down, to no real effect. It’s been said after the band’s show in L.A., which was preserved for the live album Live At The Palace, that Hoon ratcheted up his drug use and the shows really began suffering as a result. With two weeks or so left, the shows seemingly were a chore; by the time they reached New Orleans they had to be a bit down playing Tipitina’s instead of an amphitheater or even a bigger theater. But that was the show that never was…

There’s video that Hoon shot the morning of his death as seen in the documentary and it’s eerily unsettling. He’s laying in bed in the hotel watching TV and talking to his girlfriend on the phone. Hoon was known to record anything and everything that was going on in the band’s career. At some point, presumably as a result of a dying battery, the video cuts off prematurely. It’s a quick jump and it’s really sad just watching someone’s last hours, not knowing what would happen that afternoon.

In the aftermath, the band didn’t immediately disband. Capitol Records even released the video for “Toes” a week later, but MTV couldn’t be bothered to show it more than once or twice. It’s not a particularly good clip and Hoon doesn’t look great, with thick circles under his eyes, but he’s still captivating and you can’t take your eyes off him. That would be the last Blind Melon news for a minute. The band went home and began the process of grieving and healing. Then in early ’96, the band started sifting through tapes for a farewell compilation of odds and ends. They had enough good leftovers from Soup and found some acoustic Hoon home recordings that the band added overdubs and juiced the songs up. Even a cool answering machine recording of a song called “Letters From A Porcupine.” By the end of the summer, the band had finished compiling and decided to name the record Nico in honor of Hoon’s daughter, who was three months old when he died. The album was released in November and I got it for Christmas on cassette that I still have. It flopped, only reaching number 161. But the band weren’t done.

                  

Unbeknownst to most fans, the band were still trying to find another singer. One prospect was Gus, an alt-rock singer/songwriter signed to Almo Sounds, who had recorded a cover of “Don’t Fear the Reaper” on the first Scream soundtrack. The band worked with him for a few months, but nothing came of it. By early 1999, the band realized they weren’t going to find the guy and finally announced their official breakup that spring—much to the surprise of most fans, who weren’t aware they were still together.

New projects were started, such as Zen Mafia, Unified Theory, Extra Virgin and Abandon Jalopy. The members went on to production and songwriting, discovering artists like Anna Nalick, but eventually they found their new singer, Travis Warren, and announced a reunion in 2006. They immediately hit the road, began rebuilding their fanbase, and released a mediocre comeback album in 2008. The band continued touring; eventually bassist Brad Smith quit in the late 2010s and in 2020, the band went on an extended break exacerbated by the pandemic. They didn’t start playing live again until Spring 2025 where they will remain. We’ve gotten some one-off singles but I doubt there will be another album, which is a shame.

And what of Hoon? His legacy has only grown! On Spotify, besides “No Rain,” obviously, their most played songs are “Change,” “Tones of Home,” “Toes” and their 1996 cover of the Steppenwolf classic “The Pusher.” Hoon’s daughter Nico went off to school and has pursued her own career, separate from her father, and doesn’t appear to have gotten caught up in the limelight and the burdens of being a celebrity kid like a lot of others have.

Blind Melon have been a band I’ve been a fanatic of since about the age of 13. My friends and I shared tapes back and forth in high school like it was the cool thing we’d discovered. I still cherish these songs, some now more than when I was a kid. This band is one of those super special bands that for me don’t come around very often. Who knows what would’ve happened had that day in October 1995 turned out differently. No unreleased tracks have emerged since the ’90s but the songs we’ve got still hold up damn well because of the soul in that voice. Though Hoon left us too early, his music and his voice still resonate 30 years since his passing.