In dreams until my death, I will wander on. Rest in peace, Chris Cornell

The words you say, never live up to the ones inside your head.  The lives we make, never seem to get us anywhere but dead.


 
Within a half hour of reading of Chris Cornell's death, the lyrics started flooding my head. All those lines that touched me through the years, from my late 20s when Badmotorfinger was released and I discovered Soundgarden, all the way through my 30s and Euphoria Morning and the end of the one lasting relationship I've had, into my 40s and Audioslave, and then Chris's music changed with his second solo album and I couldn't relate anymore and I discovered Jack White. But even though the new music he was making had changed, the old music was still there.  There was no way any of those old Soundgarden albums or Euphoria Morning or the first Audioslave album could be put aside entirely.  They had meant too much and still did. Still do. Chris's imagery and metaphors could be obscure, but then he'd cut through the obscurity with a line as sharply meaningful as a razor. Or a diamond.  

Dreaming only of the ones who never dream of you... never dream of you.


 
Prince's death last year was a horrible shock, but this is worse.  I loved Prince's music, but I felt Chris's music.  I've written about a few of his songs in the past-- Like Suicide and I Am The Highway, especially, moved me to words.  

Sitting here like uninvited company, wallowing in my own obscenities...

 

I've experienced depression and self-hate and Soundgarden was the first band I discovered that reflected what I felt.  It was always so obvious that Chris had also been there and understood and was able to express those feelings in a poetic way that buoyed me up rather than bringing me down. Fell On Black Days was like an anthem for me for years.



There are so, so many others. I could make this post an hour-long read/listen if I, and you, had the time.  But I'll leave it brief.  We've all got our own favorites, our own personal lines and words that touched us and left a mark, helped to define us or to uplift us.  So I felt it was important to take the time to remember just a few of my own, the ones that most immediately came to mind. More will continue to come over the next few days and I'll wish I had included them here.  But I have to go to work. As the title of Chris's second solo album states, we all have to carry on.

On reading of his death this morning, Like a Stone was one of the first that rushed into my head and it's the one that I'm going to end with.  I once read an Audioslave interview in which the other guys in the band talked about how this song came together. They described how Chris just sat in a chair with his eyes closed while they played the music for him and they thought he had checked out, that he wasn't paying any attention. Then he opened his mouth and began to sing the words that'd come to him while he was sitting there with closed eyes.  I hope he's in that house now.




On a cobweb afternoon 
In a room full of emptiness 
By a freeway I confess 
I was lost in the pages 
Of a book full of death 
Reading how we'll die alone 
And if we're good, we'll lay to rest 
Anywhere we want to go 

In your house I long to be 
Room by room patiently 
I'll wait for you there 
Like a stone 
I'll wait for you there 
Alone 

On my deathbed I will pray 
To the gods and the angels 
Like a pagan to anyone 
Who will take me to heaven 
To a place I recall 
I was there so long ago 
The sky was bruised 
The wine was bled 
And there you led me on 

In your house I long to be 
Room by room patiently 
I'll wait for you there 
Like a stone I'll wait for you there 
Alone 
Alone 

And on I read 
Until the day was gone 
And I sat in regret 
Of all the things I've done 
For all that I've blessed 
And all that I've wronged 
In dreams until my death 
I will wander on 

In your house I long to be 
Room by room patiently 
I'll wait for you there 
Like a stone 
I'll wait for you there 
Alone 
Alone 

Chris Cornell's "I Am the Highway"

Edit 5/18/2017, upon the sudden and shocking new of Chris Cornell's death:  I'm re-posting this old blog from 2007.  Here is the Civilian/Audioslave demo of this song--






Ok, I have to admit that the first few times I listened to this song (from Audioslave's eponymous debut album), I found it very cheesy. I mean, the dude is singing about not being a flying carpet. Then in May of 2005, I took two weeks off from work and drove the length of Route 50, a mostly 2-lane highway that cuts through the middle of the US from Maryland's eastern shore all the way to San Francisco. Because of the highway and traveling references, I decided that this would be my theme song for the trip. After a few days of listening and thinking about the song as I drove, the words began to mean something to me. I have no idea if my interpretation matches Chris Cornell's intended meaning, but I'd like to think that it might.

Pearls and swine, bereft of me.
Long and weary my road has been.
I was lost in the cities,
Alone in the hills.
No sorrow or pity for leaving I feel.

I am not your rolling wheels
I am the highway
I am not your carpet ride
I am the sky

Friends and liars, don't wait for me,
I'll get on all by myself.
I put millions of miles
Under my heels,
And still too close to you I feel.

I am not your rolling wheels
I am the highway
I am not your carpet ride
I am the sky
I am not your blowing wind
I am the lightning
I am not your autumn moon
I am the night

Things are about to get deep here, and I may ramble a bit, so bear with me. You know how sometimes it's possible to "lose yourself" in a relationship (or at least it is for some people)? To me, this song is about fighting to not lose yourself in that way. Relationships can be damned hard, and one of the things that screws them up the most is the issue of perception. I'm not talking just about romantic relationships here, either. Whether it's with a mother, a friend, a lover, a brother, a colleague at work... in any relationship, we are to the other person what they perceive us to be. They see something in us that fulfills some want or need that they probably don't even realize they have (and vice versa, of course). That's why the first six months of a romantic relationship are so magical: We're busy forming those perceptions, feeling that need satisfied, and haven't gotten to the point at which we begin to feel that maybe that person isn't what we thought they were after all. On the flipside, some people go out of their way to make themselves fit the other person's perceptions, to be what that person wants, just to hold the relationship together. I think that in most cases, all of this happens at an unconscious level, but it really seems to explain that "We just grew apart" thing, as well as the "I lost myself in the relationship" thing.

As a kinda-sorta student of Buddhism, I realized that what it comes down to is seeing things as they really are. In Buddhism, great emphasis is placed on seeing the reality of things, on learning to realize when we're projecting our own "story", our own attachments and aversions, onto an event or person we're dealing with. If you do that in a relationship, then you're just setting yourself up to get miffed when that person doesn't behave as you've come to expect them to, or when they have unrealistic expectations for you. I've dealt with plenty of this myself, from both sides of the coin. From my father and mother, to my sister-in-law, to the last guy I dated, to people at work who just rub me the damned wrong way... After coming to this realization, I now try to stop myself and ask "Am I looking at the reality of this person, or are my own expectations and assumptions getting in the way and creating this issue?" Even harder when you're dealing with someone you care for is to ask "Is this person seeing me as I am, or are they wanting me to be something for them that I'm really not?" Before I begin to sound totally sanctimonious here, let me assure you that I don't always succeed in asking or answering these questions. In any case, even if you can see the reality of the situation, it does no good if the other person can't.

To me, it seems as if the character in Cornell's song is someone at that point in a relationship, someone who's maybe experienced it before and is determined not to again. It's the ultimate anthem to self-realization and independence. This person would rather be on his own than to lose himself to another person in such a way. He'd prefer to be "lost in the cities, alone in the hills" than to be under someone else's thumb just for the sake of being in a relationship.

To take it a step further, he even tells the person on the other side of the relationship what's going on. When he sings "I am not your carpet ride, I am the sky", he's saying "Not only am I not just what you see me as being, I'm more than you can even comprehend of me as. I am greater than your conception of me and I will not be boxed in by your expectations." "No sorrow or pity for leaving I feel." A bit harsh, perhaps, but sometimes that's what it takes to get through to that other person.

Again, I have no idea if this is really what the song is about, it's just what it means to me. For all I know, Cornell was stretching his metaphoric muscles in another direction and I'm totally off-base. Either way, it's become a personal anthem of sorts. "I am the highway...", indeed.



If you can, try to get ahold of the demo version of the song that was leaked to the internet back when Audioslave was still just a rumour. Cornell's vocals on the chorus are much more dramatic. And, yeah, I realize that it's really Audioslave's song, but the words are Chris' so as far as I'm concerned it's his song (No offense to Tom, Tim and Brad. Sorry, guys.).

Chris Cornell's Like Suicide

This is an old post from 2006 that I'm resurrecting because I'm deep into a Cornell nostalgia kick lately, and because I just found a pretty incredible live video of the song.   The sound quality sucks a tad, but the performance is fan-freakin'-tastic.



The song "Like Suicide" (from the Soundgarden album, Superunkown) is arguably one of Chris Cornell's most beautiful and most poetic. The story goes that Chris was sitting at home working on the music that became the song when he heard the sound of something hitting the window in another room. His first thought was apparently that someone was trying to break in. He went outside, walked around the house, and found that a bird had flown into the window and was flopping around on the ground below with a broken neck. He apparently had to take a brick from the edge of the garden and finish her off, then he went back inside, sat down, and wrote the lyrics.

To me, that story makes total sense when compared to the lyrics. I read a post at some forum or another, though, in which some guy analyzed the song as being about heroin use. The dude went through the song line by line and explained all these metaphors that he saw as describing someone's experience with heroin. I think that interpretation really sells Chris Cornell short and I've felt compelled for a long time to rebut the guy's analysis of the song. So, here goes:

Heard it from another room
Eyes were waking up just to fall asleep
Love's like suicide
Dazed out in the garden bed
With a broken neck lays my broken gift
Just like suicide

So far, fits Chris's story exactly. The one line that I'm still not sure of the meaning of is "Eyes were waking up, just to fall asleep", but Soundgarden-era Cornell is chock full of damned obscure metaphors. The line "With a broken neck lays my broken gift" is a beautifully poignant description of what he found.

And my last ditch
Was my last brick
Lent to finish her
Finish her

Bit down on the bullet now
I had a taste so sour
I had to think of something sweet
Love's like suicide
Safe outside my gilded cage
With an ounce of pain
I wield a ton of rage
Just like suicide

Again, these verses describe the event Chris alleges the song is about. To take that brick and put the bird out of her misery was so difficult, it left "... a taste so sour, [he] had to think of something sweet." It was an act that couldn't be committed with detachment, it had to be fueled by the sadness and frustration stirred in him by the sight of the injured bird.

With eyes of blood
And bitter blue
How I feel for you
I feel for you

She lived like a murder
How she'd fly so sweetly
She lived like a murder
But she died
Just like suicide

I have to admit that I listened to the song for a year or so before I made the "murder/suicide" connection. Having read in the past that Cornell's a bit of a nature junkie, and being one myself, I finally realized what I think he meant by those references. To watch a creature like that fly can be so beautiful, it just kills you ("She lived like a murder, how she'd fly so sweetly"). For that same creature to die in such a way, both literally in the act of flinging herself against the window and figuratively in the unnecissariness of her death, feels senseless in the way that most suicides do.

To me, there's no question that Cornell's explanation of the song is valid and it says a lot about him as a person. That he could be so moved by the event to sit down and write such an incredibly touching description of it indicates that he's a more complex character than your stereotypical "rock star". By insisting that the song is about heroin use, the guy at that other forum seems to see Cornell as nothing but that stereotype. In doing so, the guy makes both himself and Chris Cornell seem sadly one-dimensional. Personally, reading Chris's explanation of this wonderful song gave me a lot of respect for him. But maybe I'm just naive.

There was a time when all I wanted was my ice cream colder...

Little Cream Soda

Well every highway that I go down
Seems to be longer than the last one I knew about
Oh well

And every girl that I walk around
Seems to be more of an illusion than the last one that I found
Oh well

And this old man in front of me
Wearing canes and ruby rings
Is like containing an explosion when he sings
But with every chance to set himself on fire
He just ends up doing the same thing

Well every beautiful thing I come across
Tells me to stop moving and shake this riddle off
Oh well

And there was a time when all I wanted was my
Ice cream colder, and a little cream soda
Oh well, oh well

And a wooden box, and an alley full of rocks
was all I had to care about
Oh well, oh well, oh well

Now my mind is filled with rubber tires
and forest fires
and whether I'm a liar
and lots of other situations where I don't know
what to do at which time God screams to me
“There's nothin' left for me to tell you”

Oh well, oh well, oh well, oh well

Much dukkha these days.  Another Hallow's Eve has come and gone and I feel that I barely acknowledged it.  I celebrated, to be sure, reading M.R. James all month, then heading up to Philly for some cemetery exploration and Haunted Poe with a buddy.  But I didn't feel the day the way I normally do.  Why not, you ask?  Well...  It would seem that a mid-life crisis is brewing.

I've whined incessantly about work in this blog and unfortunately it's one of the root issues of my current batch of bitching.  The recession forced a second batch of layoffs at the beginning of this year, and our marketing director was one of those to get the axe.  The president of the company took on the PR mantle and the decision was made that I would assist him in keeping track of all the myriad contracts and schedules and minutiae that goes into marketing a high-end jewelry store.  My existing responsibilities were to be delegated as necessary amongst my compatriots on the administrative staff (all two of them, and both as fed up with, yet still grateful for, their jobs as I am), but that really hasn't happened.  This has been the pattern at most of the jobs I've had--  I'm apparently viewed as being capable and conscientious.  So when there's work to be distributed, my name seems to be the only one in the hat.   

This has been both a good and a tremendously bad thing.  With business slowing down due to the economy, my duties as inventory manager slowed down along with it, leading to days filled with irresponsible intarwebs surfing.  So having to quickly get up to speed on what's involved in marketing was stimulating and activating, even if it wasn't particularly interesting. But this type of work goes against my nature.  The things I've always been good at, that were noticed by my supervisors, have been my attention to detail, thoroughness, focus, and efficiency.  I work best, and happiest, when I have a single task to focus on with minimal interruptions.  I can apparently handle having multiple, varied responsibilities, but doing so drives me crazy.  I become stressed and scatter-brained, and lose the very qualities that got me stuck with all those responsibilities in the first place.

The result is that I begin to make mistakes.  After a potential doozy the other day, the boss gave me the "I think you're doing a great job" speech and then began to gently lecture me on how I need to learn to handle the stress of dealing with shifting priorities and last minute, deadline issues.  It took all my will to not roll my eyes at him.  I believe he sincerely meant to be supportive, but he forgets that I've been in the retail business for a long time, I've understood for years all of the things he was telling me.  The sticking point is whether I want to learn these things.  I don't, for the simple fact that I don't enjoy such chaotic situations and that I don't feel they're necessary.  If I did, I would've developed the required skills a long time ago.

Even worse is that this situation is sapping my confidence.  I've felt for a while now that I'm becoming a "jack of all trades, master of none."  Being involved in so many aspects of the business has taught me a variety of things, but not with any depth.  I don't know what I'm good at anymore.  I feel that I'm at a loss to assess my skills.  If I were to try to break out of the retail industry to do something more meaningful, how would I present my abilities on a resume, how would I sell myself?

On its own, the job situation would be stressful but tolerable.  As I've said before, despite not loving the work I do, I'm grateful to have a job at which that work is appreciated, especially in an economic climate in which so many people can't find a job at all.  But that issue's been compounded by the recent realization that I'm going to be 45 in a few brief months.  After that, it's only a few brief years to 50.  That thought has scared the crap out of me.  I'm a single woman with two cats and a minuscule 401k who, on her days off from a job that she just kind of ended up with, lives for riding her bike and going to museums.  It's like I've got some form of Peter Pan syndrome-- I take care of the most basic necessities and then all thoughts turn to play-time.  And,
aside from grousing about my job, I'd gotten to a point at which I was happy with this arrangement.  But I don't think I can be anymore.   

I can remember as a teen sinking into depression, thinking that I probably wouldn't live to 35.  Coming into my 30's, having survived thoughts of driving my car into a jersey wall along the highway, I instead began joking that the day my brain got soft and my joints got stiff would be the day I'd put my head in the oven (yeah, I've always had that morbid streak).  Growing old has always been one of the few things I was consciously afraid of.  But the fear of becoming senile and stiff-jointed has been joined by another-- How will I take care of myself?  Hell, how will I take care of my parents, who're edging up on 70, before I even get to the point of taking care of me?  How will I take care of my handicapped sister who lives with my parents?  Will I need to take care of all three of them?  

I've never known what I wanted to do with my life.  There were lots of lectures in my younger years, lots of being yelled at that "You have to go to college!!"  But no one ever sat me down and said "Hey, let's figure out what you enjoy, what you want to study and make a career of."  While I was an intelligent student, I wasn't a committed one.  Always at the bottom of the smartest class, when I wasn't skipping those classes to go play.  And there was never any discussion of how to choose a school, much less how to pay for it.  The assumption must've been the same my employers have made, that I was smart enough and capable enough to figure it out and no one needed to give me guidance.

Graduation led to an ultimatum:  Go to college or get a job.  Since I'd hated high school, had no idea what I wanted to study, and no clue how to pay for it, I got a job.  And I kept on working.  There have been a few times when I tried to stop and change course, but each time ended up derailed.  Even at those moments, though, thoughts of the future were vague at best, it was more a situation of "What do I want to be doing now?"

So here I am, at the mid-point of life and feeling my heart race at the thought of giving up playtime and buckling down to figure this shit out.  That thought makes me so tired.  I'm tired of doing it on my own.  I want help, but that's a problem in itself.  Back when help was free and available, I didn't know enough to reach out for it.  Now that I want it, it's still available but I'll have to pay for it.  But, thanks yet again to our current recession, paying for anything is becoming sketchy these days, as I didn't get a raise this year and things aren't looking good for one in 2010.  Which brings me full circle back to being dissatisfied with my job and feeling that I should be doing something else, but not having any clue of what.

Do I really have to grow up? 



Two songs have been bouncing around in my head in conjunction with this mood, so y'all get a two-fer:

 Disappearing Act

Come on now, the curtain is drawn
And tomorrow stands before you.
Dressed and draped in a coal black cape
Like a crow, he ignores you.
Look again, there's a beautiful girl
Covers sin in a Holy Land shroud.
It's the great disappearing act
Done once again for the marveled crowd.
As we're chasing our tails,
And biting our nails,
So strong and frail.

And we build and tear down,
Build and tear down,
Build and tear down...
With barely the time to say
How did it get so late?
I'll never know

Step outside now, the door's open wide
And the minons are eager to find him.
Put a million miles under your heels
And you're still behind him.
Cover your clocks with your chains and your locks
While the seasons get hotter and colder.
Stretch your faces and lie about your ages
And still we're gonna get older.
As we're chasing our tails,
And biting our nails,
So strong and frail

And we build and tear down,
Build and tear down,
Build and tear down,
We've run out of time to say
How did it get so late?
I'll never know
I'll never know

Hang on 'til your fingers bleed
And your hands unwind...
He will escape you every time,
From under your pillows,
Through open windows and out on the rails...

And we build and tear down,
Build and tear down,
Build and tear down,
With barely the time to say
How did it get so late?
I'll never know
I'll never know
I'll never know

Seriously, if anyone out there has any ideas to help me, let me know.  If not, then please excuse this moment of weakness and just enjoy the music.

Firing the pistol that shoots my holy pride

DRAWING FLIES

Sitting here like uninvited company
Wallowing in my own obscenities
I share a cigarette with negativity
Sitting here like wet ashes with X's in my eyes
And drawing flies

Bathed in perspiration drowned my enemies
Used my inspiration for a guillotine
I fire a loaded mental cannon to the page
Leaning on the pedestal that holds my self denial
Firing the pistol that shoots my holy pride
Sitting here like wet ashes with X's in my eyes
And drawing flies

Hey what you yellin' about
Conditions, permission, mirrored self-affliction
Hey what you yellin' about
Sadists' co-addiction, perfect analogies
Hey what you yellin' about
Conditions, permission, mirrored self-affliction

Leaning on the pedestal that holds my self denial
Firing the pistol that shoots my holy pride
Sitting here like wet ashes with X's in my eyes
And drawing flies

I'm sure that the young, 20-something Chris Cornell who wrote this song years ago had no clue as to its Zen-ness. To him, it was probably nothing more than an expression of existential angst. But, man, if that isn't the human condition in a nut-shell. From our denial of the reality of what we are to the afflictions we create for ourselves, and letting all that crap get in our own way because we forget that we're a pile of wet ashes dying with every breath we take.

Most of the rewards we get in life come to us obliquely.
(Bernd Heinrich, A Year in the Maine Woods)

I'm not talking about anything as ambitious as getting off yer duff and realizing your life's dream. It's just being aware, every day, seeing the world as greater than ourselves, noticing the little, oblique things and relishing them. It can make all the difference in helping us let go of that holy pride.

It's done: From Cornell... (Part I)

This is the first of what will be two long, rambling babblings about music, so if you're not into Incubus or Chris Cornell you may want to skip both of them. Unless, of course, you find my writing incredibly compelling, in which case, read on…

On 11/9, I drove 4 hours from DC up to Allentown, PA, with the two-fold purpose of seeing Chris Cornell perform at the Crocodile Rock Café and to meet a bunch of people from the Cornell forum. Leading up to the show, I realized that I was more excited about meeting the forum folks than I was about seeing Chris. Since getting into Incubus over the summer, I haven't even listened to Cornell for the last two months. No Soundgarden, no Temple of the Dog, no Euphoria Morning. But I was still expecting to be entranced and transported once he walked onstage.

So, all of us forum folk found each other in line at the Croc, and we all managed to get right up at the front of the stage, directly below one of the speaker stacks hanging from the low ceiling. Some of us had seen Chris at least few times this year, and some hadn't seen him perform for a handful of years. Every one of us was fairly giddy with anticipation as we waited through the opening act and the set change.

And then it began. The lights dropped, the band members filed out and began playing on stage, and I craned my neck to watch for Chris to emerge from the backstage door. I could see a tall shadow reflected on the wall and knew it was him, and the disagreeable thought flashed through my mind that Chris Cornell was making us wait so that he could have a grand entrance. That thought was disregarded, though, once he finally strolled out and hit the stage to tear into "Let Me Drown" and "Outshined". The one-two punch of those ripping SG tunes had me banging my head and dancing as much as was possible in the confines of the crowd, even after I realized that I couldn't hear a single note of what Chris was singing. Now, everyone says that the sound is always terrible right up front, but I swear I could hear every screaming note from the two guitar players. They were mixed so loudly, though, that I heard nothing of The Voice. The music was ridiculously loud. Through the first several songs, the guitars shredded my ears and the bass literally had my guts quivering to the point of nausea. For a while, though, it didn't matter, since I recognized the music, I could hear the people around me singing the same words I was singing, I could see Chris mouthing those words, and it got me excited. When the band left the stage for Chris' acoustic set, I finally was able to somewhat hear the golden tones I came for. And that was the turning point. One of the tunes he played acoustically was "I Am the Highway", which for the past few years has been my theme song, if you will. I had my hands up, swaying along with the song, and I gradually became aware that I really wasn't feeling the rapturous emotional response to Chris' singing that I felt in Baltimore and Philly earlier this year. I realized that I was just going through the motions. That and the twisted sensations in my gut suddenly left me subdued. There were a few points further on when I felt a nostalgic exhilaration in response to an old SG tune or two, but for the most part I just did not enjoy the show.

When it was all over, the crowd began filing slowly towards the exit. The forum folk all stopped to re-group near the swag table, and a few expressed interest in the t-shirts. Now, I generally don't wear clothing that advertises anything, not even the music that I'm into. And the fact that every single one of the Cornell shirts incorporated his illegible signature into the design was slightly distasteful to me. I don't know whether it was an impulse brought on by sheep mentality or what, though, but I ended up shelling out $20 for a shirt with one of the cooler, more obscure designs.

Afterwards, we all headed to a local diner to grab some food and hang out. I felt like crap and couldn't bring myself to consume more than a cup of soup and some tea. After a while, the conversation became targeted on how skinny, haggard and unhealthy Chris had looked during the show. Was it the clothes he was wearing, was he tired out by non-stop touring since March..? None of us had a real clue, of course, but we were all disturbed by it. The talk continued as people brought up things that had struck them about his facial expressions and antics on the stage and then, as will happen when you get a group of fanatical music fans together, we began to analyze various examples of Chris' bizarre behavior as represented in the media over the last several months. Photos of his home in a recent issue of In Style, an interview in a Turkish mag that included photos of him and his wife Vicky lounging around and having a pillow fight on their hotel bed, the cancellation of a couple of shows so that he could perform at a media event for Paris Hilton… Based on postings at the CC forum, things of this nature have many of his fans confused, and have blatantly turned off many others. At one point during the conversation, I posed the question that I've considered many times over this past year: What would the 20-something punk rock Chris Cornell of Soundgarden think of what he's recently become? The general consensus around the table was that the early Cornell would be scornful of the actions of the current one. But what do we know, really? We're just a bunch of fans basing our opinions on what we see and read, much of which is either taken out of context, misquoted, or totally created by the media. What I do know, though, is that the t-shirt I bought after the show is now a symbol of my nostalgic love of what Chris Cornell was and the music he once made. I am no longer a fan of the new Chris Cornell. **

That said, I've also been considering lately what it is about Incubus that I responded to so strongly this past summer. As I've mentioned before, I've known of the band for several years and never gave them a serious listen. I've written already about what made a couple of particular tunes jump out and grab my attention a few months ago, but as I began buying and listening to the rest of their catalog, I began to think about which elements of their music turned my initial reaction into a full-blown addiction. As with every other band with which I've been obsessed over the years, it comes down to the same two things: Words and a voice. (See part II, if you're so inclined)



** I feel that I should add some kind of caveat to the statement that I'm no longer a fan of Chris Cornell, since it was very hard to write that. As my Incubus obsession levels off, I know that I will definitely continue listening to Soundgarden and other Cornell music previous to the second Audioslave album. And if I hear that the guy transforms again and quits acting like such a fucking Rock Star, I'll certainly give his next album a fair listen. Until then, I am a confirmed Incubus addict.

Philly weekend: Sunday (with Chris Cornell)

Sunday in Philly was much less busy and more focused. Started out with eggs and scrapple (a Philly favorite!) at the Midtown IV 24-hour cocktail lounge/restaurant. Let me repeat: a 24-hour cocktail lounge/restaurant. In the middle of Center City. There's character for you. By the time I was done it had begun to rain, which created the perfect atmosphere for wandering around a cemetery. Laurel Hill Cemetery, to be precise, a huge, gorgeous hillside spot overlooking the Schuylkill River and Fairmount Park.

With the cemetery wander out of the way, the rest of the day centered around that night's Chris Cornell gig. Not only was I seeing the man perform, I was going to attempt to meet up with folks from the fan forum and try to get a spot up front at the general admission show. I've mentioned before that GA is pretty much the only way I want to see shows anymore, but that there are disadvantages for someone of my height (or lack thereof). So, my plan was to get to the venue and be in line early enough to get up to the rail. Meeting the forum folks there was definitely advantageous, as they took over the front of the line. After over three hours of standing and waiting (under broiling sun, as the rain had totally cleared out), we all managed to get up front and center and were fairly giddy with anticipation.

A bit of digression: I recently made a comment at a Cornell forum about how Chris now writes "happy music", as compared to what came out of Soundgarden and his first solo album. It seems that my comment might have struck a chord with one of my forum mates, as she soon after posted a very thoughtful discussion of the tone of Cornell's recent lyrics and music which, of course, got me thinking about my own off-the-cuff comment. In retrospect, it's not so much Chris' lyrical content that's happy these days (though any fan would have to admit that the love songs to his wife are decidedly cheerful), it's his whole outlook on life and how it permeates the music he's writing now. His lyrics often do still have a dark quality to them, seeing as how he's recently addressed tragic killings along the lines of the Virginia Tech murders ("No Such Thing") and the chaos of war ("Silence the Voices"). Then there are the more obscure, yet eerie and somewhat intimidating, pieces such as "Poison Eye" and "Killing Birds". Even his "bubblegum pop" song, "Arms Around Your Love" isn't a happy chirpy love song, it's a painful depiction of what men often go through when they don't show appreciation for the woman they supposedly love. But the music is so perky in many of these songs, and that's where I think his more optimistic and cheerful attitude is creeping in and coloring his songs. Gone are the swirling, Oriental-influenced tones of pieces like "Pretty Noose" and the pounding assault of "Outshined". They've been replaced in many instances by very upbeat, tap-your-toe rhythms that are sometimes at odds with the lyrical content with which they're paired. In other places, the resigned hopefulness of classic SG lyrics like "The Day I Tried to Live" has been replaced by a more optimistic, rosy-eyed hope such as in "Safe and Sound". Chris is happier, and his music unconsciously reflects that. He can still reach into the dark side of the human soul for lyrical content, but he no longer dwells there and, to my ears, neither does the music he's creating.

I can't recall where I saw it, but I read an interview not too long ago in which Chris mentioned that one of his regrets is that he and the guys in SG didn't get more joy out of what they were doing at the time. That's definitely not the case now. From the moment he hit the stage, the show in Philly was a joyous event. Whether Chris was performing old tunes like "Let Me Drown" and "Spoonman" or new stuff from Carry On, he put his soul into it. He was so obviously enjoying every moment of what he was doing, and carried the audience along with him. Whenever he began that signature move of swinging his head and upper body from side to side like an autistic in self-stim mode, you could tell he was totally absorbed in the music. Being right up front made it a bit hard to hear things clearly, but the man could have been gargling hot razor blades and he still would have been mesmerizing. But he definitely wasn't having any problems with his voice-- even with a less than clear mix and what seemed to me to be sometimes off-key backing vocals, it was apparent that he was hitting every note with that slightly road-wearied, husky voice.

Instead of starting out with a rocking number, as he did in Baltimore with "Cochise", Chris shifted gears and began this show with the dramatic anthem "Silence the Voices". Now, this is one of the songs that I normally skip when listening to Carry On. The lyrics are actually very meaningful and moving, but the music and vocals are so dirge-like and there's some bizarre keyboards (apparently played by Chris himself) that I just can't listen to. Live, though, the song lives up to its lyrics. Without the keyboards and with a slightly quicker tempo, the new band brings more energy to the song, giving it more of an edge to go along with Chris' emotional delivery. From there, he launched into a head-banging performance of "Original Fire", followed by a tune I was ecstatic to hear, the SG classic "Let Me Drown".

One of the highlights of the evening for me was during his short acoustic set. He began to introduce one song by saying that he'd never performed it anywhere for anyone, except for his wife. My first thought was that he was referring to "Finally Forever", but I was delighted when instead he launched into "Roads We Choose" (lyrics n/a), a quirky tune that seems like a love song but that has some slightly strange lyrics. There's been debate on the fan forum as to whether he sings the word "bed" or "debt" at the end of the second verse, so I was intent on watching him sing the song so I could tell once and for all what the word is. As he got to that particular line, I was staring at his lips and… he flubbed it, singing the first line of the verse again as a lead-in to the part about "…all you ever do is treat me with respect." Chris, dude, yer killin' me. In spite of that, though, I loved hearing the acoustic version of the song.

Another touching moment was when he sang "Out of Exile", after explaining that it was about his wife and the baby girl they had together. At one point during the song, he walked to the side of the stage and held out his hand towards someone apparently sitting in the wings. I have to assume that he was trying to lure baby Toni out onto the stage with him, as he's recently done at other shows. He gave up after a few attempts, but it was funny and cute to watch him keep reaching out to someone who clearly was feeling stage-shy.

The rest of the set held few surprises, but every song was performed with energy and dead-on vocals from Chris. The crowd ate it up, even surprising him by launching into an a capella rendition of "Be Yourself" when he faked us out by holding out the mic instead of beginning to sing himself. At the very end, after a three-song encore, many of us refused to disperse even as roadies came out to break down the equipment. We wanted more, and Chris had better come back soon to give it to us.

What's new: Music and Friendship

Strange summer so far. I seem to be entering into one of my periodic extroverted phases. After a winter of self-aggravated discontent, self-imposed isolation, and self-indulgent introspection, the hermit seems to have wandered out of her cave for a bit.

This foray into sociability comes on two fronts (possibly three): the internet and the outdoors (the third hasn't yet gotten off the ground, so we'll just have to wait and see how it develops). Regarding the outdoors, I've always gravitated towards activities that lend themselves to solitary enjoyment-- hiking, kayaking, cycling. Many, if not most, people seem to do these things with others, but if one is sufficiently self-sufficient, then these activities are an excellent escape from the annoyances of society. Being alone by myself in the woods, on the water, or cranking the pedals, allows me to think about whatever I choose. I can mull and brood over issues at work, contemplate deep philosophical ideas, or just plain let my mind go blank. Last year, though, I began to experiment with kayaking and cycling with people I met on 'net forums geared towards those sports. One in particular, the Team Estrogen Women's Cycling forum (I absolutely hate the idea of posting at a site named for a female hormone, but it's really a great forum), has led to becoming part of a group of DC-area women who've begun to ride together on a fairly frequent basis. And now it's branching out-- a few weeks ago, three of us got together for kayaking, and one of them invited me to a get-together at her home. This has made it difficult to find time to paddle with Lee, my occasional paddling buddy of the last two summers and a fellow introvert. Even more disconcerting, I'm finding that it's been a few weeks since I've had a weekend entirely to myself. Obviously, this is not something to cry about, but it's requiring some adjusting to. These people want to spend time with me, and I have a good time with them. What might be considered strange is that I can't decide when it's time to begin referring to these people as friends. For two years, Lee has been "the guy I paddle with". The Team Estrogen ladies are just that, or "the women I cycle (and now kayak) with". At what point do they cross over from being people I enjoy certain activities with, to being friends? (Ugh. I just realized that question sounded like something Sarah Jessica Parker would say in a voice-over on Sex & the City.)

In addition to the TE cycling forum, I've also been posting at a couple of sites dedicated to Chris Cornell. I've ventured into music forums/chat rooms in the past, and actually began forming some virtual friendships that were pretty close. Throughout it all, I waffled between enjoying the anonymity that allowed me to comfortably open up and the dis-connect of not being able to see people's facial expressions and hear their tone of voice, of having interaction that is entirely intellectual as opposed to physical. I always felt strange reacting emotionally to the words of someone I couldn't see or hear and questioned whether these people I interacted with could really be called "friends". I mean, they couldn't come over and help me move furniture if I needed, or give me more than words when I needed comfort. Nor could I offer the same things to them. So were they really friends? This thought is what led me to cut ties with everyone I considered a "friend" a couple of years ago. After that I descended into full-on hermit mode, enjoying my books, my bike, my kayak and the great outdoors all on my own and finding great contentment (and occasional discontent, of course).

So now I find myself out in the world, beginning to form attachments again. Do I want this? Do I want to have a busy schedule of "dates" to do this or that with other people? Do I want to care about how people at some music forum react to my words and about what they think of me? I don't know.

On another note, I'm beginning to explore new musical territories. As mentioned in my My(WasteOf)Space profile, it takes a lot for music to really move me. I'll listen casually to all sorts of different things, but for me to want to go out and buy an album and listen to it repeatedly I've got to be touched emotionally, provoked to thought, or sucked in by a beautiful voice. For several years, I've listened to anything by Maynard James Keenan. For a while there, MJK's involvement with A Perfect Circle meant there was plenty new to listen to in the years between T00l albums. Lately, though, between his vineyard and T00l's latest epic tour, it looks like it may be a while before there's anything new from him (I'm looking forward to his Puscifer release, but I have a feeling there won't be much in the way of moving lyrical content to that. I could be wrong, though.).

And, of course, there's been Chris Cornell. It took a handful of years of casual listening to break through the density of his lyrics, but once through, the addiction developed with frightening intensity. In recent posts, though, I've written about my concerns over the direction his music's taken. The things I related to so much in Cornell's music over the years were the sense of isolation, the confusion over human interactions, the combination of melancholy in relationships and strength in solitude. At least, that's what I took from it. With Chris now a happy family man writing songs about love and his wishes for a better world for his children to live in, there's much less for me to relate to. And, as I've stated before, it seems that his incredible talent for imagery has been tempered by sobriety. I don't know how long it will be before his next album, but I'm both eager and tentative in my anticipation of it. The handful of songs from Carry On that I enjoy make me feel it's very much a transitional album, and that he'll find a way to combine those elements I've always loved with his new attitude and pespective. It'll be sad, though, if the next album reveals that it's time for me to move on.

To that end, I've begun listening to Incubus. Similarly to the way I got into Soundgarden, I've been familiar with Incubus since 2001 but only on a casual level. A friend sent me files of a few songs from their album, Morning View, back when it was released. I've listened to these songs periodically over the last several years and enjoyed them, but never really paid full attention to them. I recently had a project at work that required more focus than the distractions of the office allowed, so my boss gave me permission to plug in my earphones and crank some tunes. Hearing those Incubus songs through earphones gave me a chance to really hear both Brandon Boyd's voice and his terrific lyrics. So, I went out and bought Morning View and it quickly supplanted Cornell's Carry On in my cd player. One song, in particular, has been set on 'repeat' on several occasions:

Wish You Were Here

I dig my toes into the sand
The ocean looks like a thousand diamonds strewn across a blue blanket
I lean against the wind
Pretend that I am weightless
And in this moment I am happy...happy

I wish you were here (x4)

I lay my head on to the sand
The sky resembles a backlit canopy with holes punched in it
I'm counting UFO's
I signal them with my lighter
And in this moment I am happy...happy

I wish you were here (x4)

The world's a roller coaster and I am not strapped in
Maybe I should hold with care but my hands are busy in the air

I wish you were here

When I really listened to these words, the sentiment of them struck me like a punch to the solar plexus (a punch softened by Boyd's lovely, mellow vocals). I've felt that way so many times. I've written here in my blog about it, that feeling of freedom and contentment that is so delicious on one's own, but that you can't help wishing you could share. But with whom? A friend or loved one is the first thought, but really, sharing it with anyone who needs that feeling in their life would be fulfilling. Which kind of brings me back full circle. Do I want to make the effort to try and turn these recent real & virtual internet acquaintances into friends and risk the frustrations that will be part of that? Or do I maintain my disattachment and keep them at arm's length, enjoying sharing words &/or activities with them and leaving it at that? Do I "wish [they] were here" in those special moments of euphoric contentment? I just don't know.

Carry On: Chris Cornell's latest album

I need to begin this with a disclaimer: This is not a review. Nothing I’m writing here is a fact or a truth of any kind. I don’t know much about music, and I certainly can’t make any sweeping statements of how the rest of Chris Cornell’s fans feel about this album. These are my impressions, emotional responses, and personal critiques of Carry On, nothing more. I’m going to try to be constructive, but I ain’t holdin’ nothin’ back. That said…

"No Such Thing"- I’ve discussed the subject matter of this song at the Chris Cornell Forum and here in my blog. Apparently it’s written from the perspective of a sociopathic suicidal murderer. Very timely, in light of Columbine a few years ago and Virginia Tech recently. The metaphor of how the "rain got in and ruined it all" is nicely effective in describing the mental deterioration of the sociopath. The lyrics are very thoughtful, questioning "What gives me the right/to think that I could throw away a life/even mine?" Unfortunately, they’re also riddled with sloppy rhyming such as "invisible/impossible" and "meaningless/a mess". And one of the lines that could have been the most thought-provoking ("Maybe to lose or to save your soul, is a choice of how you fill the hole") falls flat for me. I get that he’s referring to an emotional hole, but there’s got to be some other way the line could have been worded. The song has lots of potential, but it doesn’t quite achieve it.

"Poison Eye"- It’s The Who!! Seriously, he sounds just like Daltrey on this one, and the music and lyrics have Townsend’s stamp all over them. Listening to this, I have flashbacks to the first time I saw the movie Tommy. The guitar hook and keyboards especially sound like something straight from that soundtrack. The subject matter is basically a re-tread of "#1 Zero" from Audioslave’s Out of Exile. And like "#1 Zero", this song unfortunately does nothing for me.

"Arms Around Your Love"- Top 40 Pop song. A fairly well-written Pop song, but a Pop song nonetheless. This is the first song on the album, too, in which it becomes obvious that Chris’ vocals are a bit thin. I’ve been singing along with it just because it’s so damned catchy, not because it moves me in any way.

"Safe and Sound"- And here we begin with the steel guitar obsession (or is that slide guitar? I don’t know, but it ends up being over-used on the album). Another song with great potential. Chris’ faith in a "promised land" is touching, but the question "why can’t we pull this together?" sounds a bit disingenuous coming from the man who wrote "Blow Up The Outside World". This song is like "Heaven’s Dead" from Out of Exile: I really like the verses, but I can’t relate to the sentiment of the chorus.

And this is the perfect time for me to respond to posts I’ve read at the CC Forum in which people have gushed about how Chris’ voice on Carry On has just as much range and power as it’s always had. I have to disagree. On this song and others to come, the vocals are effective emotionally, but I think he still shows some of the strain he was subject to on Out of Exile and Revelations. As a result, the soaring chorus has a constricted sound to it, as opposed to the more full-throated tone of something like "Steel Rain" from Euphoria Morning. He’s sounded so much better on tour since the album was completed that I think it’s a shame he didn’t delay the release again in order to go back and re-record some of the vocals. This song has a pretty melody, though, despite being bit on the slow side. This is another one I’ve begun singing just because it’s fun to do so.

"She’ll Never Be Your Man"- I’m really surprised by it, but this is my favorite song on the album. There’s a more organic flow between the lyrics and the melody, his voice is a bit richer, it’s catchy… and the subject matter is quirky. Not being a lesbian or a man dumped for a lesbian, I can’t really identify with it, but I still get a kick out of singing along with it. More steel (or slide?) guitar, but it works well on this one.

"Ghosts"- I can do without the falsetto. There’s a definite strain to the vocals on this one, with Chris slipping into the nasal, slightly whiny, tone that he used on the first ‘Slave album, and that made me first begin wondering what was going on with his voice. I’ve seen comments from some folks who are impressed with the long high note he holds at the end of this song, but to me it’s just too thin and reedy. I’d love to hear it live now, since his throat’s in so much better shape. Lyrically, though, the song is beginning to appeal to me. It seems to be very autobiographical and, if so, is a great statement to people who would expect him to remain musically static. The chorus is a little bouncy for me, but I’ve still begun singing along with it.

"Killing Birds"- This is another tune folks have been raving about, but it just plain disturbs me. Hearing it discussed, I was anticipating something dark and thought-provoking. Instead, the lyrics are just a sloppy mess. On first listen, there seems to be an apparent connection between the metaphor of "killing birds" and the death of the bird in "Like Suicide". Unlike "…Suicide", though, the metaphors in this one are not only incomprehensible, they’re mixed to the point of being ridiculous. The final verse in particular creates some disturbing imagery:

"If I had a web
I could sit and wait for you
Wouldn’t need a stone
I’d just poison you
And tie you up
And you would be a bird
A beautiful crested one
And your eyes would beg
But I’m just doing my job"

Chris, dude... yer killin’ me. Ok, you’re trading in your stone to become a spider, but you’re tying up a big ol’ crested bird, so you must be one of those gigantic South American tarantula-type spiders. But since when do tarantulas have jobs? I’m sure what he’s saying is that the bird’s begging is to no avail because the spider/murderer is compelled by his instincts, but this just doesn’t work. On top of the painful lyrics, the phrasing of the vocals is choppy and clumsy. This is the second song out of Chris’ entire catalog that I just can’t listen to ("Man or Animal" from Out of Exile was the first).

"Billie Jean"- The first version of this song that I heard was from an acoustic set in Amsterdam. It was so slow and dreary I couldn’t listen to the whole thing. Then I heard Chris perform it live in Baltimore and was blown away by the more dramatic, electric version. I was very curious to find out which version would end up on Carry On. It seems to be somewhere in the middle. The tempo’s picked up a bit from the Amsterdam one, but the vocals on the verses are a bit too soft and become a bit constricted in the more emotional choruses. The current live version (check out the video from my 5/17/07 blog) is so much more effective, but I still sing along with this one because it’s almost as good.

"Hover/Scar On The Sky"- I have to be harsh again. There’s a child-like quality to this song that makes it hard for me to listen to. What I mean by that is: it sounds as if it was written by a 7-yr old for an audience of 7-yr olds. The lyrics are trite and the phrasing is again very clumsy. And his voice sounds so tight and constricted that I wish he’d gargle some saltwater and sing it again. I can almost hear this song on Euphoria Morning, but it’s just not as well-written or well-performed as any of those tunes.

"Your Soul Today"- I’m having trouble getting past the line, "Can I visit your legs?". "Can I visit your arms?" evokes an image of melting into a comforting embrace, but "…visit your legs" is just clumsy (I need a new synonym for that word). I assume it’s meant to be sexy, but it just makes me think of someone hugging a pair of disembodied legs. As a result, I’ve barely even listened to the rest of the song.

"Finally Forever"- Because of the admiration and respect I have for Chris, I am really, truly happy that he’s so very much in love with his wife. Unfortunately, I do not think that love songs like this one are Chris’ forte. Ironically, he’s written some incredible songs about love gone wrong. "Finally Forever", though, comes off as a weak Rod Stewart impression. And at this point on the album, the steel (slide?) guitar is just plain annoying.

"Silence the Voices"- I can’t even comment on this song. It’s entry #3 in my list of "Chris Cornell Songs I Just Can’t Listen To" (three tunes out of 20 years worth of song-writing really ain’t bad, though).

"Disappearing Act"- This one causes more flashbacks for me, this time to having to listen to my mom’s old Gordon Lightfoot albums. Or was it Jim Croce…? I dunno, but I’m starting to get beyond the flashbacks and into the lyrics. The more I listen, the more the imagery strikes me as classic Cornell. The rest of the song is so different that the words didn’t come across at first but, like "Ghosts", it’s beginning to have an impact on me. And again like "Ghosts", I’d love to hear him re-record it now. I have a feeling the improvement in his singing would make this song as beautiful as it should be.

"You Know My Name"- The version I ripped off the ‘net before Casino Royale was released is better, but I still really like this song. Musically, it was a surprise at first to hear Chris create music like this (with David Arnold’s collaboration, of course), but if you take it in context it’s great. It’s not a Chris Cornell song, it’s a Chris Cornell James Bond song. The lyrics fit the movie perfectly, but still have the kind of wonderful imagery that Chris is so good at. And the vocal performance is husky and less constrained. Unfortunately, though, it clashes with the rest of Carry On. I fully understand Chris’ wanting to release it as his own song instead of on the movie soundtrack, but there’s not enough hard-rocking stuff on the album for it to blend in. Oh well.

"Today" (Bonus track)- This one’s full of falsetto vocals and "do-do-do-do-do"’s that have made it hard for me to listen to. I really want to, though, because the snatches of lyric I’ve picked up so far are intriguing. If I can find the lyrics on-line (they’re not in the liner notes), this may be one that I end up really enjoying, in spite of the falsetto.

"Roads We Choose" (Bonus track)- Like "Today", I’m dying to find official lyrics for this tune. As I’ve mentioned in threads on the CC Forum, my first impression of this song is that it’s Chris’ version of the Beatles "When I’m 64", with a little of A Perfect Circle’s "The Nurse Who Loved Me" cover thrown in. It’s quirky, it’s sweet, and I’m starting to really enjoy it.

For the most part, Carry On is troublesome for me. In some cases, the songs head in a direction I just can’t follow. That's not a problem on Chris' part, though, it's my problem. In other cases, I truly believe that he didn’t think the songs through well enough. There are sloppy lyrics, clumsy phrasing, and over-used musical motifs. And I find it frustrating that his voice improved so much after the album was completed. So many of the songs on Carry On would be improved by the more full-throated delivery that he could probably give them now. I kind of get the feeling that he was just so excited about this album that he wasn’t able to be objective about the songs and take his time putting them together. If that's the case, then on the one hand, it's touching. On the other hand, it's aggravating as hell. There are some songs, though, that, in spite of how different they are, will definitely end up on a cd mix to be listened to along with the best of his work from Soundgarden, Temple of the Dog, and Euphoria Morning. Carry On is just good enough for me to be eager to hear what he does next.

Interesting encounters: Chris Cornell and a fox

Last night, I headed up to B'more to experience Chris Cornell performing live at Ram's Head. I passed up a couple of Audioslave shows over the last few years because I'm just not interested in experiencing music in an arena setting anymore. The one time I saw Soundgarden was at a Lollapalooza event (with The Ramones and Metallica, woo-hoo!!), and that was definitely a cool experience. My memories of SG's performance are hazy at best, since I spent most of their set in the mosh-pit (where I learned that I'm armpit height to the average male), but the entire day was an experience. And a few years ago, I saw a few shows on T00l's tour for Lateralus. One was general admission at an outdoor pavillion, the other two were in arenas. The pavillion show is the only one of the three that is firmly planted in my memory. There's just something about the energy of a general admission crowd that adds to a show, and it's even better in an intimate club setting. So, when Cornell seemingly threw this club tour together at a moment's notice, I was glad that I heard about it in time to snag a ticket the day they went on sale. If his new solo career follows the course begun with Audioslave, it may be the last chance to see him in an intimate venue.

I did hesitate a bit, I admit. Chris' voice has definitely shown signs of wear over the last several years. Something happened to his throat between Euphoria Morning and the first 'Slave album. While the new huskiness evident on tunes like "Cochise" and "What You Need" was definitely sexy, it concerned me. Then I started hearing live recordings in which it was obvious he was straining. Worst of all was a live performance after the second album, Out of Exile, was released. It was some VH1 award show or something, and Chris' voice cracked all over the place while singing "Doesn't Remind Me". I cringed watching it. Somehow, between Out of Exile and Revelations, though, he managed to gain some control over the situation. He sounded better on the new album, and live performances on the 'net had a smoothness to them I was afraid he'd lost. He's held onto that whiskeyed huskiness, but seems better able to hit those high notes he was once notorious for. So, I had a hard time keeping my expectations in check on the drive to B'more last night.

In a nutshell, the show was awesome. The fact that there were too many tall people between me and the stage, and that the sound mix was frustratingly muddy, couldn't detract from the fact that the man who's music has entranced me for 16 years was bouncing and prowling around the stage mere feet in front of me. I missed not hearing "Like Suicide", "Call Me a Dog" or "Zero Chance" (which I've heard he's performed at other shows this tour), but Chris put together a great selection of tunes nonetheless. A handful of SG Badmotorfinger classics, a couple of Temple of the Dog gems, his movie soundtrack treasures "Seasons" and "Sunshower", and a few tunes from his soon-to-be released 2nd solo album. It was hard to catch the emotion of his voice, between his mic being buried in the sound mix and everyone (myself included) singing along with every song, but it was obvious that he was having no issues hitting every note with intensity. I have to admit to being so caught up in the experience that I actually sang along with "No Such Thing" (from the new album, not impressive) and "Black Hole Sun" (the song for which SG is doomed to be remembered, not one of their best). And the more up-tempo, dramatic version of his "Billie Jean" cover was fantastic, much better than the slow, actually dull (my opinion, sorry) acoustic version I'd heard on the 'net.

I've got mixed expectations for Carry On, the new album coming out in June. Of the four tunes I've heard so far ("You Know My Name", "Billie Jean", "No Such Thing" & "Arms Around Your Love"), two of them are pretty weak lyrically, continuing a trend that concerned me on the 2nd & 3rd 'Slave albums. As much as I hate to say this, my impression is that sobriety has tempered Chris' poetic ability. The incredible imagery and metaphors of his past tunes have been repaced by a clear-eyed straightforwardness that just doesn't have the same impact. And he's picked up a disturbing habit of sophomoric rhyming. After last night's show, though, I'm more than willing to give the new album a chance to grow on me. I'll follow Chris' new direction for as far as I possibly can.

Today's encounter was much more sedate and quiet. I hit the woods for a hike, since last night left me too wiped out for a bike ride. So, I'm heading up a slight hill and I see something standing in the middle of the trail up ahead. At first I thought it was a dog, since most people who hike with their dogs aren't smart enough to keep them leashed, but then I realized it was a fox. It was just standing smack in the middle of the trail as calm as could be, watching me approach. At first, I froze, thinking it would be startled and take off. When it continued to just stand there, I slowly moved along the trail till I was a couple dozen feet from it, at which point we both stood there looking at each other. Then, the fox sat down. That floored me. It didn't appear to be injured or rabid or otherwise wacked out, it just wasn't concerned that I was there. I took a few tentative steps closer and it didn't budge. That is, until it decided to lie down. After a while, it even put it's head down and appeared to be napping. I had no choice but to stand there. Several minutes later, a squeak next to a nearby tree had the fox on it's feet. Had to be a mouse or a chipmunk. The fox, with no care for the fact that it was coming closer to me, trotted down the trail to stand next to the tree looking for the source of the squeak. It apparently didn't find it, because it soon plopped itself down on trail again, put it's head on it's paws, and re-commenced it's nap. It raised it's head once as I moved a few steps to sit on a rock near my section of the trail, but then closed it's eyes again.

About half an hour after our little party began, a full bladder convinced me that it was time to disturb the fox and continue on to the parking area and the porta-johns. I stood up and took a few steps forward. The fox raised it's head and looked at me, but didn't move. I took a few more steps and it realized the situation. It stood up and headed back up to where it was when I first saw it, where it turned and waited to see what I was going to do. I began slowly walking toward it, and it finally decided to move off into the mountain laurels bordering the trail. It didn't go far, though, and watched me as I passed. After a dozen or so feet, I turned back and saw it step back out onto the trail and down towards the tree where the mysterious squeak was sounded. I would have loved to have hung out and watched it for a while longer, but I had a 5:30pm chiro appointment and the urgings of my bladder to deal with. So, I hiked on.

That was somewhat dull in the telling, but it really was a very cool occurrence. On the heels of last night's Chris Cornell experience, it made for a pair of incidents I had to write about to preserve them in my memory.

You tell me I'm low 'cause I've slept on the floor,
And out in the woods with the badgers & wolves...
(Chris Cornell, "Call Me a Dog", Temple of the Dog)

Locomotion as a form of meditation

I don't consume alcohol, "illegal" substances, or cigarettes. I do get a kick out of the ocassional hit of nitrous oxide at the dentist's office, I like my teas caffeinated, and I enjoy a daily piece or two of fine dark chocolate, but otherwise I'm fairly abstinent. Past experience indicates that I could probably develop an addiction to sex, but current lifestyle choices have caused me to abstain from that, too. The one and only craving I fully indulge is an addiction to fast driving.

I'm fortunate to live in a region with some pretty good roads for driving at speed, somewhat close to areas of transition between suburban and rural. That, combined with the rolling hills of the piedmont region, means that curvy, relatively low-traffic country roads are in easy access. When I first moved to this locale back in my mid-20's, I began to explore just to familiarize myself with the area. As I started to discover the back-country roads nearby, I quickly realized how much fun they could be. I also learned that driving fast gave me an unexpected respite from the cyclothymic depression I had been sunk in for a handful of years. When I found myself sitting agitated and restless in my apartment in the evening, I'd grab my keys and head out for a drive. To this day, nothing calms my nerves and relaxes me like pushing the speedometer on an open road.

The thing about driving is the focus it requires. When you drive fast on country roads, you quickly learn that you have to maintain awareness and a constant anticipation that something (an animal, a pedestrian, another car) could be in the middle of the road as you crest that next hill or swing around that upcoming curve. The focus required pushes all other thoughts out of your head and leaves you in a very Zen-like state. I've intentionally described this state as "focused" and not "concentrated". Concentration implies a tunnel-visioned rigidity and that's sure to lead to a crash. What's necessary to drive fast is a relaxed, wide-spread, yet focused, awareness. Peripheral vision is key, as is being relaxed enough to respond instead of react. Chris Cornell is apparently also a speed-freak and describes it similarly:

"Speed is true escapism. When you're going really fast you have no opportunity to think about anything else in your life. Stuff that might bug you gets forced out of your brain. When I want to clear out my mind, I'll usually go driving late at night on roads where I know there are no police..."
My chiropractor (Dr. Joe) and I have discussed this. Dr. Joe is a motorcycle afficionado, specifically racing bikes. He and his buddies frequent many of the same roads I do, and several of my chiro appointments have ended with us comparing notes on current road conditions, favorite curves, etc. In one of these conversations, Dr. Joe described the exhilaration of of entering a curve and feeling that point when it's time to accelerate to sling your vehicle around the apex and out the other side. I knew exactly what he was talking about. Whether it's a car or a motorcycle, there's a thrill in feeling that no-mind, totally instinctual one-ness with vehicle and pavement.

Another great description of driving fast that mirror my sentiments is from a January 1999 National Geographic article about T.E. Lawrence ("Lawrence of Arabia"). Lawrence was apparently a motorcycle buff and spent the years of his retirement tearing around the English country-side on a pretty cool-looking Brough Superior SS1000, before an unfortunately fatal crash on that same bike. The Nat'l Geo writer had the opportunity of driving the Brough:

"...blasting down the narrow roads of Dorset that day, I did get a taste of what Lawrence found on this bike at the end. It was a kind of surrender, I think-- a speed-induced state of bliss in which things go empty and white, as they sometimes do in the desert, and where... struggle might be briefly forgotten, or somehow resolved, and penance seems no longer necessary."
To a lesser degree, my bicycle induces this same bliss. As I mentioned in another recent post, I'm no speed-demon on the bike. I just don't have the watts for it (yet...?). I've gone as fast as 30mph downhill, but I slow down like a granny going into turns. And I'm just not powerful enough for sustained speed on a straightaway. But there's a similar relaxed focus required in cycling. To maintain a steady cadence on flats or rolling hills demands attention to breathing, gearing, pedal stroke, and any upcoming obstacles that will affect that ideal combination of rpm/mph. Obviously, there's a necessary amount of knowledge of these various elements required, but at a certain point that knowledge becomes muscle-memory and thought exits the equation. Again, it's body, machine and surface congealing into a harmonious state of mindful-yet-mindless freedom from care.

Getting back to the car: Most people would probably not consider me to be a "good" driver, but I'd like to think of myself as at least a skillful one. Yes, I'm aggressive behind the wheel, but I honestly believe that I might be a tad more aware and attentive than the average cell-phone afflicted motorist. I try to be realistic, though. I tend to attribute my lack of accidents (beyond a handful of weather-related incidents in my early 20's) to a smidgen of skill in handling the car, a teensy bit to my awareness of what's going on and what could happen at any moment around me, and a whole lot to just plain dumb luck. Of course, now that I've written those words, I'll probably go out tomorrow and have a tremendous wreck. Unless it leaves me maimed or dead, though, it probably wouldn't be enough to curb my addiction.

Anyone know of a local chapter of Speed-Demon's Anonymous...?

On anger and Audioslave

Last week was a crazy week. Work’s been nuts for months and I’ve been angry. As usual, though, there’s been little cause for the intensity of my emotional reactions. Nothing I was called upon to do last week was a true hardship. Duties not in my job description, perhaps, but that’s never stopped me from doing things before. I make a point of pitching in and doing what needs to be done. And no one who needed or expected me to do things for them last week did so maliciously. But the stuff I had to do has just further delayed projects that I’m responsible for that really do need to be completed. In the end (as I muttered under my breath all week), "It’s not f@#$king insulin, it’s just f@#$king jewelry!" Regardless of that fact, it’s time for me to try yet again to get a grip on my anger.

I’ve already written here about hatred. I can still honestly say that I can’t think of a single human being for whom I feel hatred. I’m to the point I can’t even say I "hate" eggplant. I just don’t like it and don’t want to eat it. Same thing for people. There are many I’d rather not spend time around, and many I’d much rather not see holding public office or leading a country, but hatred is one emotion I don’t feel towards any of them. Anger, though, is very different from hatred, and it’s my downfall.

Maynard James Keenan, bless his heart, summed it up for me in a video interview that I just recently found on YouTube: "Hate and anger are two completely separate energies. They might have a similar emotional charge to them, but anger is a much more constructive emotion than hate." I’m going to elaborate on that. While hate and anger are two separate energies, I think people confuse them because the two emotions are so often felt simultaneously. The one can easily lead to the other, and back again. And anger is only a constructive emotion when it’s detached from hatred, when it’s recognized and analyzed. If you don’t step back and take a dispassionate look at what’s behind your anger, then you don’t allow it to be constructive. So, that’s what I’m doing with this blog. I’m taking a step back from the anger I’ve felt these past weeks and months, looking at it, trying to understand where it comes from, and figuring out a way to de-fuse it before it gets set off in the future.

Clutch it like a cornerstone. Otherwise it all comes down.
Justify denials and grip 'em to the lonesome end.
Clutch it like a cornerstone. Otherwise it all comes down.
Terrified of being wrong. Ultimatum prison cell.
(T00l, "The Grudge" Lateralus)

From what I can tell, most of my angry responses come from two sources: a martyr complex I inherited from my parents (both Martyrs Extraordinaire, though I don’t think either of them realizes it), and a shadow-side need to be smarter and better at things than everyone around me. The martyr complex clicks in pretty much whenever someone asks me to do something, or when I have to take on extra duties for any length of time. I’m certainly not the only person in the company busting butt on a daily basis to get stuff done, but I’d sure make you think I am. And those pesky little needs that I try to deny I have? They show up in a seriously offensive attitude of disdain that I often display when I’m asked a procedural or systems question. Combine those elements with a short temper and you’ll end up with an arrogant martyr stomping around breathing scorn through her nostrils like flames while muttering curses under her breath. Not pretty. And not very Buddhist.

What’s really a killer is that, very often, I realize how I’m behaving and I become embarrassed. To cover the embarrassment, I become even more angry, as well as resentful of whoever was witness to my initial over-reaction, and end up with one more brick in the wall between that person and me. Depending on my relationship with that person, I’m convinced that it could literally kill me to just stop and apologize for my behavior. With some people, I am able to do that. With others… I’m afraid to test it. What if the lightning strike from Heaven took out innocent bystanders around me?

And on I read
Until the day was gone
And I sat in regret
Of all the things I've done
For all that I've blessed
And all that I've wronged
(Chris Cornell, "Like A Stone" Audioslave)

As a some-time student of Yoga and Buddhism, of course I know exactly what I need to do to change these habitual reactions. I need to meditate and learn to practice compassion. But meditation’s so hard to make time for when there’s MySpace on the ‘net and first-season "CSI" episodes on cable tv. I’ve said many a time that I’m going to make the commitment. It’s like an addict saying that they’re going to quit, and actually, that’s a very apt way of putting it. A friend of mine once talked about quitting smoking. He said that he was actually afraid to quit because smoking was part of his identity. When he pictured himself, it was always with a cigarette. That’s my issue. I identify myself with my anger. Who would I be without it? Some namby-pamby, perky, Rachael Ray-clone? Ick. I’d rather burn in hell (which I may do anyway, but that’s beside the point).

Actually, I have thought about what sort of person I’d like to be without my anger and I have an image that I can comfortably identify with. It’s a person who can take a breath, recognize the anger, bear witness to it, and then choose a more appropriate response. No namby-pamby-ness to it. Just rational and balanced.


"Out of evil, much good has come to me. By keeping quiet, repressing nothing, remaining attentive, and by accepting reality— taking things as they are, and not as I wanted them to be —by doing all this, unusual knowledge has come to me, and unusual powers as well, such as I could never have imagined before. I always thought that when we accepted things they overpowered us in some way or other. This turns out not to be true at all, and it is only by accepting them that one can assume an attitude towards them. So now I intend to play the game of life, being receptive to whatever comes to me, good and bad, sun and shadow forever alternating, and in this way also accepting my own nature with its positive and negative sides. Thus everything becomes more alive to me. What a fool I was! How I tried to force everything to go according to the way I felt it ought to!"
From a letter to Jung from one of his former patients, discussing her acceptance of her shadow side. Quoted in Jung’s Map of the Soul (Murray Stein)

An article in the March 2007 issue of Shambala Sun was well-timed to assist me in this latest commitment to change through meditation practice. This particular statement from Buddhist teacher David Nichtern almost directly addresses some of my concerns:


"A revolutionary approach we can take is to see that the obstacles can actually become the stepping stones of the path. Our irritation, boredom, emotional upheavals, and wandering mind are the basis of the meditation practice itself. Without them, there is no meditation practice, just some kind of gooey, vague, and highly suspicious sense of well-being that lacks any real strength or foundation. We are just trying to pacify our mind in a superficial way, without working with ourselves as we really are— emotional, speedy, tired, anxious, spaced out, or whatever arises."

Bingo. No gooey-ness, instead strength and foundation. So far, so good. The article then goes on to discuss the specific practice of maitri, or loving-kindness. Now, I have trouble with my attempts to practice Buddhism whenever that term comes up. It’s just too gooey and namby-pamby for me. But, while "maitri means loving-kindness or unconditional friendliness… [it] is also a further step into overcoming and transforming our habitual patterns of selfishness and aggression." Dammit, they got me there. The only excuse I have left is the pull of those "CSI" episodes.

So, how to practice a maitri meditation? Beginning with the image of a loved one in your mind, direct the following wishes to that person: "May you be safe. May you be happy. May you be healthy. May you be at ease." Next, extend those wishes to your self. Then, towards some person or persons to whom you feel neutral. Finally, direct those wishes towards some person or group of people that irritates you, or that you would consider an "enemy." Through this practice, one can "deliberately cultivate and direct… goodwill and positive intentions toward ourselves and others." Knowing myself, though, the computer and the tv will win out over any form of meditation.

Another method I’ve considered, a sort of shortcut, is something I remember from a television interview with Richard Gere. Gere is, of course, the most well-known "celebrity" Buddhist out there, and he’s apparently sincere. In this interview, he described a practice he uses that he described as "so simple, and at the same time, so profound." And it is. In any situation dealing with another person, whether positive or negative, merely think "I wish you peace" towards that person. When the barrista at Starbucks gets your order just right, look at him and think, "I wish you peace." When a woman with a cell phone growing from her ear cuts you off in traffic, look her way and think, "I wish you peace." I mean, really, do you (do I) honestly wish that she’d crash and her car burst into flames? No. Honestly, at that moment, you (I) really wish yourself (myself) peace, and the best way to achieve it for your (my) self is to wish it for her as well.

So, what excuses do I have left? I’ve found a self-image that’s genuine, that accepts the emotional response yet catches it and allows me to choose before I react. If the anger’s valid, then I can choose to use it as a vehicle to change whatever inspired that emotion. If it’s not valid, then I’ve found a quick’n’easy choice in the "I wish you peace" practice. And, one day, maybe I’ll even begin sitting my ass down on a cushion for some real meditation in order to more easily achieve the goal of becoming that new peace-wishing self-image. Any MySpace Friends out there want to give me some words of encouragement along the way?

On another note: Late last week, Chris Cornell announced that he’s leaving Audioslave. I was surprised, yet not surprised. Contrary to most of the reviews I’ve read of Audioslave’s albums, I felt the first album was the only one on which they gelled. The music and the lyrics on that album have a much more organic feel to them, I believe. They fit better than on the second and third albums. Most reviews seem to say the opposite, but I can think of two examples on the second album, in particular, that indicate otherwise. The song "Out of Exile", for which the second album is titled, begins with a martial, military-sounding drum riff. By the time the lyrics begin, though, it’s become a sappy, romantic love song to Chris Cornell’s new wife. How could the guys in ‘Slave think that those two elements went together? The first song on the album, "Your Time Has Come", is lyrically about various people Cornell has known who died senseless deaths while still young. In the third verse, he compares these deaths to the feeling he had seeing the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington, DC, the "wall of names". While the song’s not about war, specifically, wouldn’t it have made a tad more sense to pair that military-sounding drum beat to those lyrics? That’s just one glaring example of the synchronicity that Audioslave seemed to lose between their first album and the last two. So, as much as I loved Audioslave, I can’t say I’m disappointed. And I can’t wait to see what Tom, Tim and Brad do next, whether it means reuniting with their old Rage Against the Machine pal, Zack de la Rocha, or not. They’re talented guys who craft some killer tunes.

As for Cornell, I really think that anyone he works with is gonna have to realize that they’re taking a back seat to Chris. Even if Chris himself tries to believe that he’s working as part of a greater whole, any musicians he collaborates with are going to end up being nothing but a vehicle for his talent and drive. While I haven’t been 100% thrilled with everything he’s done on the last two ‘Slave albums (Too many sappy love songs to the new wife. There’s one song in particular that wins the title of "First Chris Cornell Song I Just Won’t Listen To"), I’m still eager to hear his upcoming second solo album. The man’s been through so many transitions in his life that have been reflected in his music, it’s been fascinating to follow along and hear how he’s grown and evolved. At this point, I may not love everything he does, but the fascination’s still there, as well as the anticipation that at least some of his words will still move me.


Forget how soon
You become a fool for words when I speak
(Chris Cornell, "Flutter Girl" Euphoria Morning)