During the spring of 1994, while the Flaming Lips were barnstorming across America, convincing radio programmers and their own label that a brain-fryingly weird pop tune, "She Don't Use Jelly," from their album Transmissions From the Satellite Heart, could be a hit, I was engaged in a middle-class rite of passage, backpacking across Europe.

You haven't really tasted death until you've been inches away from an ax swung by Eddie Vedder.

It's midnight on Manhattan's Lower East Side, and the apple-cheeked guitarist in the baggy tank top doesn't know what's coming. "Yeah, we've got another show in Brooklyn in a couple days," brags Apple Cheeks to Dominic, a skinny blond Englishman in a black leather jacket. It's early summer and the two are standing outside the front door of a small club/bakery called Cake Shop.

School's out. For. Wednesday.

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PURPLISH RAIN
SPIN presents a tribute to Prince's Purple Rain

The July issue of SPIN will be your key to downloading the album, so pick up your copy today! Then, check spin.com/prince for details.

Stuttering slightly, leaning up and back, running a hand through his thick, inky spray of goth-teen hair, Jack White finds himself in an extremely unfamiliar situation -- at a loss for words.