The singer who restored Chris Cornell’s faith in humanity: “There is beauty and brilliance”
There are a few singers throughout history who operated as connecting parts between genres and drove the industry forward. Chris Cornell was one of them.
A force of emotional storytelling who more than just popularised grunge, Cornell traced the lines of excellence throughout his entire life and career. So much so that after his passing nearly all of his biggest worshippers struggled to put it all into the right words. Perhaps that’s why Tom Morello tried to cover all bases when he thanked him for “your friendship and your humour and your intellect and your singular and unmatched talent.”
Recently, several members across Soundgarden, Mastodon, Alice in Chains and more got together to form King Ultramega to pay tribute to Cornell. The purpose of King Ultramega isn’t stringent, it’s based on honouring the late singer while also constantly operating in loose but focused moving parts, all made possible by Mark Menghi.
Speaking about the project and why he chose to do it, Menghi put into words the very reason Cornell endeared himself to so many rock enthusiasts over the years: his consistent dedication to constantly shifting, evolving, and leading the way with complete and utter fearlessness. “There is not a singular moment in time that led to this project,” Menghi said, citing “a trail of events” that made it possible.
Cornell’s life and career, by far and large, also seems like a trail of events that, when lumped altogether, signal one of the purest forms of genius in rock. But as with all stars, Cornell learned from the best. One that was perhaps a little out of his terrain when it comes to influences was Jeff Buckley, whose off-kilter on-stage charisma and fearlessness was not only something Cornell identified with, but something he admired.
In fact, Cornell saw all of the nuances Buckley had to offer, like his sultry and smooth voice, but also how he held himself in a somewhat punk manner. He could captivate an entire room, even when the audience was expecting something completely different. Even better, he would lean into his oddities, breaching the borderline of unease, until it went to the other side entirely, leaving his audience completely won over to his undeniable magnetism.
“There was an almost punk-rock tenacity to the way he would force you to listen to the effeminate side of his voice,” Cornell told Rolling Stone. “I saw shows with a room full of guys wearing flannel shirts, and he would bring a song down to him singing vocal runs a cappella. He would keep doing it to the point that it was beyond discomfort for these guys who were all standing there trying to be tough.”
He went on: “You would be uncomfortable for so long that you would then have this rejuvenation and discovery that this guy was fearless. Listening to him sing — it’s one of those indications that the human race isn’t all bad and life is worth living and there is beauty and brilliance in humanity.”
Cornell and Buckley were actually good friends. Cornell even supported on the sidelines in ways Buckley never really spoke about. Mostly because he had this inexplicable air of humility about him, and wasn’t one for name-dropping in an industry filled to the brim with such blunders. But beyond that, it’s easy to see the mutual admiration there, that gritty realism they both shared, even when music threatened to go in a completely different direction.
