“He’s a sweaty Jesus!”
That was just one winning ejaculate from the hyper twenty-something dudes seated behind my wife and me at the Moore Theatre Sunday night. The “Jesus” in question was forty-six-year-old Seattle native Chris Cornell.
After the Soundgarden and former Audioslave frontman wrapped up his local stop on his sold-out acoustic Songbook Tour, my wife shared an equally flattering take on Cornell: “He just has a raw sex appeal.”
Cornell has that effect on people: male, female, frat boy, grandma, me. (I spoke with him in person a couple of years ago. The guy really is magnetic.) It’s a combination of appearance, stage presence, easy confidence, and musical talents that today’s crop of popular artists lack completely.
The only Cornell trait familiar to longtime Seattle fans that wasn’t on display at the Moore—which, according to an amusing between-songs anecdote, he unknowingly broke into with a friend at 19—was his bare torso. An asset that, given Cornell’s tight pants and clinging tee, apparently remains rock-star fit a quarter-century later.
The guys behind us might have fainted at such pectoral exposure; they exchanged high-fives and shrieks at the opening notes of Cornell’s Soundgarden (“Fell On Black Days,” “Burden In My Hand,” “Mind Riot”), Temple of the Dog (“All Night Thing”), and Audioslave (“Be Yourself,” “I Am The Highway,” “Like A Stone”) numbers. But even in their Bieber feverish admiration, the dudes didn’t look silly. A good number of attendees—heavy on testosterone—were doing the same.
With his hair at early-90s length, a full beard, and a soft backlight, Cornell did have something of a Jesus countenance and halo. And his voice remains, after all the years of punishment, rather unearthly. Still pliable and rangy to surprising extremes, it ranks with—if not leads—the male rock blueblood of Plant, Daltrey, and Vedder. He nailed the highs of “Sunshower,” “Say Hello 2 Heaven,” “Black Hole Sun,” and other old favorites with his face aimed appropriately at the heavens.
But as far as I could tell, Cornell wasn’t sweaty. Performing close enough to touch fans’ hands—even for two straight hours with only a stool, an old red desk phone (for the off-chance posthumous call from former friend Jeff Buckley), and a half-dozen guitars arrayed to either side to distract the eye—didn’t seem to rattle him one bit.
His comfort was clear immediately, as he started the night with a Syd Barrett tune (“Dark Globe”) instead of a famous, sing-along hit. He sprinkled other covers—and comfy, casual banter—throughout the set: a beautiful “Thank You” (Zeppelin), touching “Man Of Golden Words” (Mother Love Bone), haunting renditions of the Beatles’ “A Day In The Life” and Springsteen’s “Mr. State Trooper” (the latter one of only a couple Cornell played with an electric guitar), and “Imagine” (Lennon) to end the night. Before “Can’t Change Me” from his solo debut, Euphoria Morning, he explained that the second word of the title was supposed to be “Mourning,” and the mistake made him “look like a pussy.” Like doing a solo acoustic tour, he joked.
If Cornell had heard of Osama bin Laden’s demise prior to taking the stage—an enthusiastic usher was informing everyone who passed into the theater—his closest allusion to it was a vague reference to people rationally considering reactions to terrible events, in prelude to “Ground Zero” off Scream, his surprising (and surprisingly good) record with beatsmith Timbaland. Later he played the title song to a vinyl rhythm track, a technique he also used to incorporate the late Natasha Shneider’s piano melody of “When I’m Down.”
The stripped-down reconstruction of songs from his varied catalog played well. The crowd, bouncing and swaying to the implied rhythms in Cornell’s voice and chords, clearly didn’t miss the drums, big electric riffs, or drum machines. The simpler, quieter approach also highlighted his skill as a guitarist—which, he said before tearing into a heavy “Fell On Black Days,” he owes in large part to Soundgarden virtuoso Kim Thayil.
Cornell spoke of his reunited band several times, but this mention, delivered with both fists raised as he strode away for an encore break, provided the night’s most raucous reaction: “Soundgarden at the Gorge this summer!” (Just announced! July 30, with Queens of the Stone Age, Mastodon, and the Meat Puppets. Presale for fan club members on Monday; general sale at 10 a.m. May 14.)
There were grumblings around here when Cornell moved to Los Angeles and later quit Audioslave that he’d turned his back on Seattle and two great bands. That his voice wasn’t the same, anyway. And when his uneven Carry On and then Scream hit, more fans declared they were over him. But the Cornell crowd Sunday—and the rave reviews of his recent performances—prove that all of those complaints, if ever legitimate, are forgotten.
Surely that’s due in part to the return of Soundgarden. And indeed, we’re in for a real treat when the guys play the Gorge—15 years to the day since their last show there—and release a new record. But clearly Chris Cornell will always be his own man outside of his first band. (For more proof, watch him cover Bob Marley on next Tuesday’s Late Night with Jimmy Fallon.) One day he may even singlehandedly save rock from another death. He has all the God-given talents and believers he needs.
