Stone Temple Pilots were the band everyone loved to hate until they realized they actually loved them. It’s a weird legacy. If you look back at the Stone Temple Pilots discography, you aren't just looking at a list of albums; you’re looking at a survival guide for a band that was constantly being told they didn't belong. Critics in the early 90s were brutal. They called them "Pearl Jam clones" or "grunge opportunists." Rolling Stone famously voted them the Worst New Band in 1993, the same year they were selling millions of copies of Core. Talk about a disconnect.
But here’s the thing.
The music outlived the snobbery. While some of their peers got stuck in a specific 1992 amber, STP evolved. They went from the sludge of "Dead and Bloated" to the lush, psychedelic pop of "And So I Know" in just a few years. It was a chaotic ride fueled by the Dean and Robert DeLeo’s intricate songwriting and Scott Weiland’s chameleonic—and often tragic—presence. They weren't just a grunge band. They were a great rock band, period.
The Core of the Argument: 1992 to 1994
You can’t talk about the Stone Temple Pilots discography without starting at the heavy, muddy beginning. Core dropped in 1992, and it was a juggernaut. It’s easy to forget how inescapable "Plush" was. It was everywhere. It was on the radio, it was on MTV, it was being hummed by people who didn't even like rock music.
The album is heavy. Like, really heavy.
Tracks like "Sex Type Thing" and "Wicked Garden" had this muscular, rhythmic swing that felt different from the punk-inflected sounds coming out of Seattle. Robert DeLeo was bringing a jazz background to the bass lines, and you can hear it if you listen closely to the transitions. They were tight. Too tight for some critics who wanted their grunge to be more "authentic" (whatever that meant).
Then came Purple in 1994.
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This is where the narrative should have changed. Purple debuted at number one and stayed there for weeks. It’s a masterpiece of 90s songwriting. Think about "Interstate Love Song." That opening riff is iconic. It feels like a classic rock song that has existed forever, even though it was written in a cramped rehearsal space. Weiland was starting to experiment more with his vocal delivery, moving away from the Eddie Vedder comparisons and finding this nasal, Bowie-esque croon that would define their middle era.
Beyond the Grunge Bubble: Tiny Music and the Experimental Pivot
By 1996, the band was falling apart and hitting their creative peak simultaneously. It’s a classic rock and roll cliché, but for STP, it was a messy reality. Tiny Music... Songs from the Vatican Gift Shop is the weirdest, coolest record in the Stone Temple Pilots discography.
It’s glam. It’s 60s pop. It’s shoegaze.
"Big Bang Baby" sounded like something from a lost technicolor film. The production was dry, the guitars were jangly, and the band wore feather boas in the video. It was a massive "get lost" to anyone who expected Core Part II. If you haven't sat down with "Adhesive" lately, do it. The flugelhorn solo alone proves they were operating on a different level than most of the "post-grunge" bands that were starting to clutter the charts.
The sessions were notoriously difficult. Scott Weiland’s struggles with heroin were becoming public and paralyzing. The band actually had to cancel most of the tour for this album. It’s a miracle the record sounds as vibrant as it does. It feels like sunshine, even though it was recorded in a house where the singer was frequently M.I.A.
The Heavy Return and the Final Weiland Years
After a hiatus where the DeLeo brothers formed Talk Show and Weiland released a solo record (12 Bar Blues—which is underrated, honestly), they came back with No. 4.
- It was a return to the "heavy."
- "Down" is arguably the heaviest riff they ever wrote.
- "Sour Girl" became their biggest crossover hit, showing they could still write a perfect pop hook.
No. 4 and Shangri-La Dee Da (2001) are the "lost" years for casual fans, but they’re essential. Shangri-La Dee Da is incredibly eclectic. It’s got "Days of the Week," which is a power-pop gem, and then it’s got "Coma," which sounds like a panic attack. It’s the sound of a band trying to find their footing while their frontman was increasingly unreliable.
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They broke up. They came back. They released a self-titled album in 2010 that felt like a polite wave goodbye. It’s a solid record—"Between the Lines" is a banger—but the spark was flickering. By 2013, the band fired Weiland. It was a messy, legal-heavy divorce that left fans divided.
The Second Act: Chester Bennington and Jeff Gutt
A lot of people stop looking at the Stone Temple Pilots discography after 2010. That’s a mistake.
When they brought in Chester Bennington for the High Rise EP, it wasn't a replacement; it was a tribute. Chester was a lifelong fan. You can hear the joy in his voice on "Out of Time." He wasn't trying to be Scott. He was being Chester in STP’s world. His tragic passing in 2017 obviously ended that chapter far too soon, but it showed the band's resilience.
Then came Jeff Gutt.
If you were skeptical about a singer from The X Factor joining STP, you weren't alone. I was too. But then the 2018 self-titled album dropped, and it sounded... like Stone Temple Pilots. Gutt has an uncanny ability to channel the vibe of the band without being a karaoke act.
And then they did something truly ballsy. They released Perdida in 2020.
It’s an acoustic, melancholy, orchestral folk-rock record. No distorted guitars. Lots of flute and cello. It’s beautiful. It deals with grief and aging. For a band that started out screaming about "orange crush" and "shining poles," Perdida is a sophisticated, mature piece of art. It’s probably the most honest thing they’ve ever done. It proves that the "STP sound" is really about the DeLeo brothers' chord voicings and Eric Kretz’s swing, regardless of who is behind the mic.
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Why People Still Get STP Wrong
The biggest misconception about the Stone Temple Pilots discography is that they were followers. People forget how much they influenced the early 2000s rock scene. Every "butt rock" band from 2003 was trying to replicate the Core sound, but none of them could capture the Tiny Music weirdness.
STP was a bridge. They bridged the gap between the stadium rock of the 70s (Led Zeppelin, Aerosmith) and the alternative explosion of the 90s. They were too "rock" for the indie kids and too "weird" for the metalheads. That’s exactly why their music holds up. It doesn't belong to a single trend.
If you’re looking to dive back in, don't just stick to the Greatest Hits. Those songs are great, but the deep cuts—"Kitchenware & Candybars," "Silvergun Superman," "Seven Caged Tigers"—are where the real soul of the band lives.
How to Actually Listen to the Stone Temple Pilots Discography
If you want to understand the arc of this band, don't just shuffle them on Spotify. You need to see the evolution.
- Start with Purple. It’s the perfect entry point. It’s accessible but sophisticated. It has the hits, but also the "12 Gracious Melodies" vibe they were going for.
- Move to Tiny Music. This is your litmus test. If you like this, you’re an STP fan for life. If you hate it, you just like 90s radio rock.
- Check out Perdida. Listen to it on headphones. It’ll change how you think about the DeLeo brothers as composers.
- Watch the VH1 Storytellers (1999). It’s one of the best live captures of the band. Weiland is on fire, and the arrangements are incredible.
The story of Stone Temple Pilots is a story of conflict. Conflict between the band and the critics, between the members themselves, and between the art and the addiction. But when you strip away the tabloid headlines and the "grunge" labels, you’re left with one of the most consistent and adventurous discographies in American rock history. They weren't just a band of their time; they were a band that fought through their time to make something that actually lasted.
What to do next:
Go find a physical copy of Tiny Music... Songs from the Vatican Gift Shop or pull it up on a high-fidelity streaming service. Skip the singles. Go straight to "Adhesive" and then "And So I Know." Listen to the way the bass interacts with the guitar chords. It’s not just rock; it’s a masterclass in arrangement that most people missed because they were too busy arguing about flannel shirts. After that, look up the 2019 remaster of Purple for the live tracks from Lebanon, PA—it’s the band at their rawest.