Chris Cornell

Euphoria Morning (A&M)
by Brian Varney

Here’s an interesting bit of trivia for you punk collectors: Did you know that X-Ray Spex wrote a song about Chris Cornell? I know it seems implausible, since they were over long before Soundgarden existed, but it’s true nonetheless. The next time you pull out your copy of the “Oh Bondage Up Yours!” 7″, make sure you play the b-side, because that’s the one about Cornell. It’s called “I Am a Cliché.”

Sheesh. What a disappointment. What a sharp, stinging slap to the face. Chris Cornell was the singer in a fine rock band, so what did he do after the band broke up? He got tired of playing loud rock and made a wimpy singer/songwritery solo album, which it is my extreme misfortune to have to review. “Loud rock guys can be sensitive, too.” AAAAAHHHH!!!

The press kit uses words like “subtle,” “delicate,” “beautiful,” and “velvety” to describe this album. If I wanted that kinda stuff (which I don’t), I’d go listen to the Beatles or something. I sure as shit wouldn’t listen to a Chris Cornell record, ’cause that’s not what I want to hear from him. I want to hear “I’m gonna fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck you” from Chris Cornell. Any guy who can write a song like “Fresh Tendrils” or “4th of July” has no business writing “Preaching the End of the World,” a song whose putrescence stupifies my powers of description. If I could sing like Chris Cornell, I’d never stop singing. I’d walk down the street singing “Communication Breakdown” at the top of my lungs, and I sure as hell wouldn’t segue into a James Taylor song to remind people that, “Hey, although I can sing like a fucking demon, I’m really a sensitive guy as well.” He may be sensitive and have problems “just like all of us,” but he’s got a hot wife and a fat bank balance to keep him company, so he’s better off than I. Let us forget the obvious angst which festers in Chris Cornell’s heart like a piece of limburger cheese left in a hot car on a July day… the real tragedy, the real heartbreak here, is the sight of a talented man unwisely squandering his gift. Since Cornell is so obviously fond of the Beatles, I’ll leave you with a Beatles analogy: Superunknown or Badmotorfinger is to this record as Rubber Soul is to the Wings album of your choice. Somebody slap Chris Cornell around. Now.