"This," says Courtney picking up a copy of Janis Joplin’s biography from Patty’s bedside and waving it in the air, "is the sort of biography I want written about me. I want to read out the first sentence, OK. ‘I was stark naked, stoned out of my mind on heroin and the girl lying between my legs was Janis Joplin.’" There are guffaws all around. But Courtney has more to say. "Why has no one written the same about Jim Morrison? ‘I was sucking Jim’s cock and there was semen all over my mouth….’ This Joplin book is insanely graphic, you know, all abscesses, butt sex, heroin this, cocaine that. I can’t believe she was like that."

Putting the Joplin book down, she picks up some magazines, shrieks and pulls a face as though a nasty smell had suddenly appeared in the room. "Oh my God! She could have been our boss!" The offering magazine cover features a close-up of Madonna’s face, an image that is almost as unflattering as the Michael Jackson photos published by the Mirror last summer. In a widely publicised affair, one of the first bands Madonna showed interest in when she started her Maverick label was Hole. According to Courtney, Madonna ordered a clipping service on the band and then phoned her up. "This really insane, weird thing happened with her. I think she wanted to buy not only us, but all these underground bands she doesn’t have a clue about, like Pavement and Cell. I pretty much only had one in-depth conversation with her, and she was going on about being a revolutionary. I’d sold like two records compared to her, but I felt like I’d hate for her to be the person who put our records out. When you fuck with Jesus or God or whoever she thinks she is, you pay a price."

Part of the price was the publicity machine that as yet still surrounds Madonna’s every move; Courtney’s refusal to consider the Maverick interest seriously was turned into a bitching feud in some parts of the media. She shrugs as she recalls it. "I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. In fact, I didn’t even want anyone to know. I just made a few choice comments on it, I never did some of the things I’ve been quoted as saying. Initally I did make some jokes, like I’ll go out for dinner with her if she pays, and the world’s too small for her too be my boss. But I’d never say anything as ridiculous as someone is going to steal my look; I don’t even think sexist things like that."

After her interest in Hole, Madonna turned to Daisy Chainsaw. "Nothing against them, but that really told me something, that it was all about visual image. And the fact that Nirvana had made so much money." When asked for her side of the story for this feature, Madonna’s response echoed the one she made in Vanity Fair - "I’ve never heard of her."

Commenting on the rush to sign Hole, America’s Spy magazine recently quoted a record industry executive as (rather cruelly) estimating that "sleeping with Kurt Cobain is worth a half million dollars." Talent scouts couldn't get enough seats on planes to Seattle to check out the bands behind the new buzzwords: Hole, along with L7 and Babes In Toyland, were jokingly labeled as "foxcore" by Sonic Youth's Thurston Moore, a "girl rock" by Courtney, and "female grunge" by others. As well as Madonna's interest, Hole were courted by other majors, and a huge bidding war saw them opt for Geffen, home to Nirvana and others. The deal is said to be one of the biggest ever for a predominantly female band.

Seattle and its famous Sub Pop label are no longer setting the musical agenda in quite the way they were a year ago or even six months ago; the planes are now full of Japanese tourists making pilgramages to North Bend, the nearby town where Twin Peaks was filmed. As Patty says: "Seattle was great for music for a few years, but now it's a joke again. Because it's a nice place to live, there are millions of Californian number plates everywhere, all these yuppies driving BMWs." Born and brought up in a small town half an hour's drive out of the city, Patty used to go to gigs in Seattle at weekends. At 16 she was in a punk band with two other guys from school. Everyone else in her neighborhood used to wear cowboy boots, and they weren't too keen on Patty and her band. People would chase her and beat her up with baseball bats.

But even Seattle has a slightly hicksville and smalltown, clannish feel about it: the scene is quite small, everyone knows everyone else. Just about everyone seems to be in a band, and lots of bars have live music most nights of the week. Eric's first impression of Seattle was "What's all the fuss about?", although he says he now likes it after the superficiality of L.A. If Seattle is resuming the life it led before the media circus happened, it has nonetheless established itself as the capital of grunge. The elderly man at Passport Control asked what I was going to do in Seattle and when I told him I was interviewing a band called Hole, he responded: "I can't say I've heard of them, but I've heard there's some good music going on there." And although things may have died down, when a member of Nirvana recently wore a Wool T-shirt on stage, the relatively unknown band was signed within days.

"Nirvana write really good songs," says Courtney seriously. "But - and this a really obvious statement - this whole frenzy to sign these bands is a repeat of what happened in punk rock, in power pop and in new wave. Now it's just happening in alternative. Only this time it's all bands with lead singers with really great chests, like Alice In Chains, the Chili Peppers, Soundgarden. The point is, these bands were probably going to be big with or without Nirvana...." There's a momentary pause, then, obviously reflecting on the people she's just namechecked, Courtney becomes angry. "They may supposedly be new school, but their backstage is old school: purring limos, drug counsellors, psychics, roadies who get blow jobs from groupies in black bras. It's just like being backstage at a Skid Row concert. There's no arguement fo it being part of rock 'n' roll - there are really big bands who've never got off on that because it would have created an atmosphere of sexism and fear."

Although she's the first to say "thank God" Hole have one male member, Eric's non-macho presence doesn't always stop people from seeing them as a girl rock band. "It's weird what a boys' club it is," Courtney reflects. She hasn't, she explains, encountered much sexism. But there was an unpleasant incident at a gig at the Underworld in north London which she now talks about with surprising calm. "I was having a really good time, decided to stage dive, and all these football supporter guys at the front tore off my underwear..... stuck their fingers everywhere. It was a really grotesque experience. I didn't think it was my fault, but at the same time I realized why they did it. It's too threatening for a girl in a dress to jump on top of a bunch of football guys and be passed along. Considering what a liberal art pop music is, there really is an intolerable contingent of people."

It may be relatively easy for strong young women in the limelight to harbor feminist ideals. Once people have access to big money, though, you expect them to lose their liberalism. Courtney Love is a welcome exception to the rule: if anything her ideals have strengthened with her power. She reads books about women voraciously. (Naomi Woolf; Camille Paglia - "I'm beginning to see why she's dangerous as well as original"; Susan Faludi's Backlash - "it made me cry, it's so fuckin' true. You must read it, it's your responsibility as a journalist). She slams the "fucking homophobes" who go to Guns N' Roses concerts: "And I don't want people like that coming to see Hole because they think they can see my underwear." She says in a mock evil-greedy voice "no matter what happens I'll have some land" of the property (about three miles from the Twin Peaks location, 40 minutes drive out of Seattle) she and Kurt recently bought. Then she goes on to explain that they bought a further six acres to prevent the local racist loonies from securing it.

She describes Seattle as having a "sick history of right-wing activities that are really scary" - not least its treatment of Frances Farmer (after whom she named her baby and with whom she strongly identifies). An intelligent, uncompromising actress in the Thirties and Forties, Farmer suffered for her radical politics and ideas. In what became a national cause celebre, she was committed to an asylum and subjected to LSD therapy and, finally, a frontal lobotomy.

It's well past midnight after a nine-hour photo session. Courtney is concerned about Frances Bean having a slight cold, but, reassured after a quick phone call, she is eager to go out. There's a sprinkle of white dusty snow outside, and it's still falling. The local freebie music paper is throwing a party, and having a last drink or two as we turn up is Sub Pop sidekick Jonathan Poneman plus assorted members of Mudhoney. Courtney, on an adrenaline rush after the session, runs around greeting people and making introductions.

Eric, Patty and Leslie look much happier than they have all day. "This is honestly the first time I've been out in ages and it's been OK," says Courtney, grasping a bottle of cider (only her second - she can't drink) and grinning from ear to ear.

It's time to go. Everyone is being herded out of the bar. The snow is deep now and drunken snowball fights have started. We get into the car and white chunks hit the windscreen with force. Courtney is laughing. She winds down the window and, in her best and deepest mock-serious voice, says to someone from Mudhoney: "Don't you know who I am?"

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