I’ve never really listened to Soundgarden, but I’m fully aware of their importance in the history of rock. When I saw this morning that Chris Cornell died, likely of a suicide, it certainly made my heart sink. I thought instantly of fellow Progarchist Carl Olson, who has expressed his love and admiration for Cornell’s music in several posts here at Progarchy over the years. His tribute today to Cornell captures that sense of loss that we all feel when one of our musical heroes passes away.
Chris Cornell at the 2011 Toronto International Film Festival. (Wikipedia)
Update: There are now reports from the medical examiner that it was a suicide. Baffling and confounding.
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I awoke this morning to two texts from close friends. The first was terse and direct: “Chris Cornell has died.” The second:
“Just heard about Chris Cornell. Sad day for the music world. I’m in Detroit on my way to Florida. It’s all over the news here. Soundgarden played here last night. I doubt he killed himself.”
The first friend had accompanied me to Cornell’s stunning July 2016 concert at The Hult here in Eugene. We both agreed it was a remarkable show; it was even better than a solid 2013 show at a smaller venue just five minutes from my house. We marveled at Cornell’s range, presence, lyrics, musicianship.
Now we are both stunned by his sudden death in a Detroit hotel, not long after a Soundgarden concert that reportedly concluded with Led Zep’s “In My Time of Dying”—a staple in recent solo shows by Cornell.
There are reports that the death may have been a suicide. If so, that would be even more shocking. There had been ups and downs, but Cornell had avoided the deep dives into oblivion that eventually swallowed up Kurt Cobain, Andrew Wood, and Layne Staley. And had, over the past two decades, thrived both personally and professionally.
Cornell was a drug user in his early teens, then drank heavily (and apparently used drugs on occasion) during the heyday of Soundgarden in the 1990s. He hit bottom in the late ’90s as the band broke up and then his first marriage unraveled. Even then, however, he produced his (arguably) finest solo album “Euphoria Morning” (later updated to “Euphoria Mourning”), which demonstrated that he was not just about grunge, but could dip into gospel, blues, and folk. After a stint in rehab, he joined up with three members of Rage Against the Machine to form Audioslave, one of the finest supergroups in recent memory, producing three studio albums of muscular, confident rock that further demonstrated Cornell’s prowess as a songwriter. Several songs for movie soundtracks followed, including “You Know My Name”, the theme song to the 2006 James Bond film, Casino Royale. And Soundgarden’s 2012 “King Animal” was a solid, often brilliant, return for the legendary band.
Since the early 2000s, Cornell’s personal life appears to have been thriving. He married Vicky Karayiannis in March 2004, and by all accounts was a devoted husband and father. His most recent solo album “Higher Truth” was well received, revealing a mature and confident artist who was still trying new things as a songwriter and musician. In interviews, Cornell was thoughtful and funny; he seemed to embrace his fame without taking himself too seriously, which is not an easy thing to accomplish amid the fame and challenges of being a musician.
Again, I’m simply stunned. My God grant Chris Cornell peace and provide solace to his family during this most difficult time.
Shocking and upsetting news in the music world today: Soundgarden frontman Chris Cornell died suddenly last night after performing with the band in Detroit. No word on the cause of death as of yet. This is another great loss to the music world, and our prayers go out to his family and friends. We hope he is rocking out in peace.
Happy Monday, metal heads. Guess what? Nikki Stringield, of Iron Maidens fame, has released a totally shredtastic single. You can buy it on iTunes today.
Also, check out the sweet guitar she’s playing in the promotional video.
Rock on, Nikki. Can’t wait to hear a whole epic album from you someday. I think we’re all ready for you to unleash some prog metal on us.
In my review yesterday of Schooltree’s brilliant new album, Heterotopia, I focused primarily on its unexpectedly incredible music, and I didn’t really get into the album’s fascinating mythical storyline, which is reminiscent of the classics (e.g., compare Suzi to Genesis’s Rael, or Enantiodromia to Rush’s Cygnus).
But to give you an idea of just how terrific this fully conceived concept album is, I wanted to offer below an overview of the plot. Here’s the summary of Act I, courtesy of the band’s press kit. (I will place Act II in a separate post.) Use this as your guide to listen to Act I, if you have not yet tuned into this magnificent prog opera.
HETEROTOPIA
A Rock Opera from Schooltree
Plot Synopsis
ACT I
(Prologue) Suzi is a modern underachiever, clinging to yesteryear’s now-defunct dreams of rock-n-roll stardom. Her life became progressively darker as she found ways to support herself outside of the fame and fortune she thought was her destiny. And easier money came with a high cost. (Rocksinger)
A disillusioned Suzi reflects on the bullshit of contemporary life. In her despondence she sees having a soul in these empty times as her biggest problem, and makes a wish – someone please take it away. (The Big Slide)
It can look like a conspiracy, from the outside, to know what those of us in middle America grew up with musically in the 1970s. Ensconced deeply in our Yeses and our Styxes and our REO-es and our Kansases, we often missed out on the larger view of the world, despite the delicious depths of what did come delivered over the airwaves. Case in point: Fela Kuti. The Afro beat. I suspect even if you were a jazzbo soldiering on in the post-bop wonderland delivered in the ever-widening sidelong jams of Miles and Herbie and Pharaoh, there might be quite a gulf between such distinctly American cooking and a Nigerian self-trained sax player and polemicist who wielded the conch of Democracy for Africa. Kuti’s mission, though, was a kind of a trojan horse. It looks an awful lot like a super tight big band stomp, epic riffing over a relentless beat, and musically it is. But pulsing underneath was a heat that Kuti, with an outsized personality and voice that all-too-easily drew fire from Nigeria’s governing elite, stoked with an enthusiasm that would eventually enflame his life in tragedy.
1973’s “Gentleman” is an early classic, the title track of a record where Kuti ironically declares “I’m not a gentleman at all.” He doesn’t want anything to do with what that word means in a place where the gentlemen were in essence slaveholders. It’s an open statement of discontent, of a desire for justice. And it wouldn’t mean half so much as it does if his band didn’t burn the house down with their playing. It’s here that the idea of world music takes shape, borrowing from blues and jazz structures of the African diaspora and feeding back on them — once you hear Kuti’s work it’s hard to imagine Soft Machine’s Third, krautrock bands like Out of Focus and Embryo, contemporary bands like Seven Impale, and even the greater part of British punk and American rap without it. Kuti’s voice was loud, gruff, a rap that cried its flawed humanity atop a fury of horns and guitars and drums. It’s serious shit and a party all at once. Anger and joy and heartache. Even if that conspiracy was true and the staid worldview of 70s America denied me Kuti, I’m hearing it now. And I am still listening.
soundstreamsunday presents one song or live set by an artist each week, and in theory wants to be an infinite linear mix tape where the songs relate and progress as a whole. For the complete playlist, go here:soundstreamsunday archive and playlist, or check related articles by clicking on”soundstreamsunday” in the tags section above.
This is a freakin’ amazing album. If you have not yet heard Schooltree’s Heterotopia, you have no idea what you’re missing.
Imagine if Kate Bush released, in 2017, a 100-minute long, double LP concept album. Imagine if it was so damn good that it ranked right up there in rock history with The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway and Quadrophenia. Sounds like a total fantasy — too good to be true, right?
Well, that is exactly the magnitude of what is going on here with this release. Except it’s not Kate Bush. It’s an incredible musician I had never heard of, called Lainey Schooltree, who has done the miraculous. With this amazing achievement, she has forever earned her place in the history of rock. This is seriously one of the greatest albums you will ever hear.
Haim performed the catchy lead single “Want You Back” (track one from Something To Tell You) last night on SNL, along with a live debut of the album’s third track, “Little of Your Love.” That song uses strings to soar effectively into its final minute, over top of which Danielle gets to have fun with a tasty guitar solo: https://vid.me/e/tGG6?stats=1
Flashback Caruso, The Flashback Caruso Memorial Barbecue (2016)
Tracks: Pigeon Plague (4:04), I (0:48), Levitation Song (5:31), Black Magic (7:52), Going Home (4:59), II (1:25), Life Lie (4:35), III (1:13), Aqualung Boy (6:37), Darkest Hour (5:16), IIII (1:30), Raggazza Italiana (3:25), Øksa (2:22)
Every once in a while, a breath of fifty-year old air can seem remarkably fresh. And yes, I am speaking metaphorically. Norwegian band Flashback Caruso provide just such a breath in their first full album as a band. Ranging from a surf rock sound with occasional Beatles-esque vocal harmonies to a more contemporary sound, The Flashback Caruso Memorial Barbecue embraces several styles of rock to create a smooth sound.
While I am far from an expert in 1960s rock, I know enough to recognize it when it is used as an influence. One of the things I like about that era of music is how light and airy it can sometimes be. It wasn’t overburdened with production or overplaying. It sought to create catchy music that was actually good. Flashback Caruso have tapped into that formula fairly well in this album, while still managing to include the instrumental prowess we have become used to in the progressive rock genre. Additionally, that album art is about as hippie as you can get.
It can look like a conspiracy, from the outside, to know what those of us in middle America grew up with musically in the 1970s. Ensconced deeply in our Yeses and our Styxes and our REO-es and our Kansases, we often missed out on the larger view of the world, despite the delicious depths of what did come delivered over the airwaves. Case in point: Fela Kuti. The Afro beat. I suspect even if you were a jazzbo soldiering on in the post-bop wonderland delivered in the ever-widening sidelong jams of 
Progarchy 