AceShowbiz - Melissa Auf der Maur became a member of the band Hole in the summer of 1994, a period marked by tragedy for the group. That spring, Courtney Love's husband, Nirvana frontman Kurt Cobain, had died by suicide, and shortly afterward, the band’s bassist, Kristen Pfaff, passed away. Billy Corgan recommended Auf der Maur to Love as a replacement for Pfaff, but she declined, admitting in her forthcoming memoir, Even the Good Girls Will Cry: A 90s Rock Memoir, that she did not feel connected to the music.

Eventually, Courtney Love persuaded Auf der Maur to join Hole. An excerpt from Auf der Maur’s memoir offers a reflection on the band’s performance at Chicago’s Metro on October 21, 1994.

In less than six months, Courtney Love had lost her husband and bassist, been left a single mother, and faced public accusations.

Her live performances were intense and unpredictable, filled with wild movements, shouting, accusations, and dark humor. She seemed to have little to lose and much to assert by embracing her most commanding persona onstage.

I was aware that joining Hole was a risky choice. My instinct was to refuse at first, yet here I was, absorbing everything. Each show felt like boarding a high-adrenaline roller coaster, with constant concern for the safety of Courtney Love, the audience, and ourselves.

In October 1994, just a month into our headlining tour, we arrived in Chicago. The Metro, our venue, was a legendary rock hub.

Every night, our walk to the stage felt surreal. Our steps slowed into a strut, and we took deep breaths to calm pounding hearts before gathering in a four-person huddle. Courtney Love would recite a prayer—sometimes a Buddhist chant, other times a portion of the Lord’s Prayer—capping it with a fierce “Hhhhh-hah!” that jolted us with electric energy. We then released hands and took our places onstage.

Moments when Courtney Love challenged the audience were always tense. There was the risk someone might throw something or shout something that could provoke her. She might ignore or confront the disruption; no one could predict her reaction.

As the tour deepened, Courtney Love’s semicoherent streams of consciousness during performances increased. Observing Courtney Love, I struggled to discern which behaviors were authentic and which were part of an act or the influence of drugs.

Signs of heroin use became apparent: track marks, constricted pupils, nodding off, slurred speech.

Knowing how intelligent Courtney Love is, I couldn’t always tell where performance ended and real self-destruction began. At that moment in Chicago, she maintained a tenuous balance.

Being new to the band, I had little connection with the other two members onstage. During shows, my focus was limited to my bass, Courtney Love, and the crowd, in that order. Courtney Love led every aspect of the show—her moods, outbursts, and energy directed the flow. The rest of us existed in isolated orbits.

Band dynamics often mirror dysfunctional family relationships—hierarchical and pathological. There is always a leader. When that leader is destructive, unpredictable, or struggling with mental health, those beneath tend to avoid conflict. This was true for Hole.

Despite the chaos, we managed to complete the entire Metro set without major incident. Leaving the stage physically and emotionally intact felt like a victory.

Backstage, out of audience view, Courtney Love prepared for the encore by changing into a short black lace-and-satin slip. We waited for the crowd’s cheers to reach the right volume to justify our return. High on adrenaline, sweating and energized, we connected with a room full of alternative music fans.

When Courtney Love decided the moment had arrived, she strode back onstage wearing her slip and holding a cigarette. We followed her lead and resumed the performance.