TUNAGE – SLS

I almost gave up on this week’s challenge. Every artist that came to mind? Still dropping new music. I listened through track after track of so-called final albums, but nothing really moved me. I opened my tunage folder — my personal stash — and got even more frustrated. I googled around and just found the same names I’d already dismissed.

So, I bailed. Put on A Perfect Circle and went back to writing some fiction.

That’s when it hit me — A Perfect Circle is a side project for Maynard James Keenan. Not the main band, but a serious creative outlet. Oh lovely.

With that in mind, I went back to my tunage folder with a new filter: side projects — not the obvious hits, but the hidden, off-the-beaten-path work from major artists. You know I can’t just list the usual stuff. Not my style. Plus, I’m always hunting for music that’s new to me.

So here’s what I found: four side projects from artists you definitely know — Bob Seger, Prince, Gavin Rossdale, and David Bowie — and some final or forgotten albums that deserve another listen.

This isn’t a list of greatest hits. It’s a look at where legends went when they didn’t care about playing it safe.

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Institute — Distort Yourself (2005)

First up: Institute. Gavin Rossdale is synonymous with Bush, one of the ’90s big players in post-grunge. But after the dust settled and the hits dried up, Rossdale wasn’t ready to fade — he pivoted.

Distort Yourself is Institute’s lone album, released in 2005 and produced by Helmet’s Page Hamilton. It’s a step away from the radio-friendly hooks of Bush — this is Rossdale turning up the distortion, loosening the structure, and getting grimier.

Everyone knows Bulletproof Skin — a good track, sure. But “Come On Over” deserves more attention.

It’s slower, heavier, and more introspective. There’s a simmering frustration in Rossdale’s voice, a refusal to dress up the emotion. The guitars are thick and sluggish, the drums plod with intent. It doesn’t try to soar — it grinds. This track captures the feeling of being stuck, restless, itching to break out.

Institute didn’t survive the mid-2000s music churn, but Distort Yourself remains a snapshot of Rossdale at a creative crossroads — somewhere between the end of Bush and the attempt at something harder, meaner, and less commercial.

Other tracks worth digging: “Seventh Wave” and “Boom Box” — where that rawness burns even hotter.

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Prince — 3rdeyegirl — “FIXURLIFEUP”

Prince was never interested in staying still, but 3rdeyegirl was a different kind of experiment even for him. After decades of reinventing pop and R&B, here he was fronting a hard-edged power trio.

PLECTRUMELECTRUM (2014) wasn’t polished or overproduced — it was raw, live, and loud. You can feel the room in these recordings. Prince wasn’t just working with younger musicians — he was feeding off their energy.

The lineup was fire:

• Donna Grantis — shredding on lead guitar, bringing in a jazz fusion sharpness.
• Ida Nielsen — laying down heavy, funky basslines.
• Hannah Welton — delivering powerful, locked-in drum grooves.
• And Prince — guitar, vocals, the mastermind and chaos agent.

“FIXURLIFEUP” feels like Prince’s punk anthem — stripped down, aggressive, urgent. It’s a call to arms without the usual cryptic layers. Straightforward and biting, it proves Prince could shift gears and out-rock bands half his age.

3rdeyegirl wasn’t built for pop charts. It was built for small, sweaty venues and late-night jam sessions. It gave Prince a new sandbox to play in — and he didn’t hold back.

Other tracks worth digging: “PRETZELBODYLOGIC” — a wall of riffage with a groove you can’t ignore.

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“Side projects weren’t side hustles — they were battlefields where legends proved themselves all over again.”

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David Bowie — Tin Machine — “You Belong in Rock and Roll”

By the late ‘80s, David Bowie could have coasted. Let’s Dance and his pop hits had made him a mainstream juggernaut. But Bowie never coasted — he detonated his own success.

Tin Machine wasn’t a vanity project — it was Bowie disappearing into a democratic, no-safety-net band. Alongside guitarist Reeves Gabrels and the Sales brothers, Bowie went back to basics: noisy guitars, grimy lyrics, unfiltered attitude.

On Tin Machine II (1991), you find “You Belong in Rock and Roll” — a track that’s jagged, strange, and defiantly anti-pop. The guitar is warped and almost mocking, and Bowie’s delivery feels world-weary, like he’s peeling back the glam to show something bruised and real.

It’s not easy listening — and that’s the point. Tin Machine was Bowie burning down the house he’d built in the ’80s so he could rebuild.

This period laid the groundwork for Bowie’s later masterpieces like Outside and Heathen. Without Tin Machine, we don’t get that rebirth.

Other tracks worth digging: “Baby Universal” — a glimpse at Bowie’s knack for catchy weirdness.

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Bob Seger — The Bob Seger System — “Lucifer”

Everyone knows Bob Seger the classic rocker — the voice of American blue-collar nostalgia. But before the arenas and radio hits, there was The Bob Seger System.

Their 1970 album Mongrel is criminally overlooked. It’s rough, raw, and full of a kind of garage-rock fury that Seger would later sand down into smoother anthems.

“Lucifer” is the standout — a swirling mix of organ, gritty vocals, and a loose, almost chaotic energy. This isn’t “Old Time Rock and Roll” Seger. This is a scrappy kid with a chip on his shoulder, pushing back against the commercial sound of the time.

And then there’s their take on “River Deep, Mountain High.” It’s not bombastic like Tina Turner’s version. Instead, it’s leaner, grittier — more Midwest garage than Phil Spector’s wall of sound.

Mongrel didn’t break through, and soon Seger would move on and streamline his sound. But this record shows a side of him that’s often forgotten — less myth, more fight.

Other tracks worth digging: “Leanin’ on My Dream” — Seger at his bluesiest.

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Closing

What these side projects have in common is simple: they show famous artists unfiltered. Stripped of the machine, free from the brand, they chased sounds that didn’t fit the mold — and didn’t care if they fit the marketplace.

And these side projects aren’t just something tossed out like a TV movie. This is where we get to see favorite artists explore different avenues, speak their truth, and in doing so, capture a whole new crop of fans.

In the case of Rossdale and Prince, I was already in — I’d been listening to them for years. But Seger’s Mongrel and Bowie’s Tin Machine? That was new territory for me. And honestly, that speaks to the heart of these kinds of challenges: finding music you didn’t even realize you needed.

Gavin Rossdale’s Institute gave us something raw and urgent. Prince’s 3rdeyegirl exploded with punk-funk energy that still feels alive. Bowie threw a Molotov cocktail at his pop stardom with Tin Machine. And Bob Seger, before he was a radio icon, tore through the garage with The Bob Seger System.

These records aren’t polished legacies. They’re risk, reinvention, and real creativity. And they leave you asking the same question every time:

Is there any genre these artists couldn’t make their own?

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Bonus Material: