Soundgarden
Friday, January 18 at Dar Constitution Hall, Washington DC
“We’re Soundgarden–the only band playing tonight. So there’s no confusion,” Chris Cornell announced to over 3,000 wide-eyed fans packed into D.A.R. Constitution Hall in our nation’s capital. All of us were beside ourselves as we prepared to witness the resurrection of the kings of Seattle and the only heavy that mattered in the 90’s.
Soundgarden
Friday, January 18 at Dar Constitution Hall, Washington DC
“We’re Soundgarden–the only band playing tonight. So there’s no confusion,” Chris Cornell announced to over 3,000 wide-eyed fans packed into D.A.R. Constitution Hall in our nation’s capital. All of us were beside ourselves as we prepared to witness the resurrection of the kings of Seattle and the only heavy that mattered in the 90’s. D.A.R. stands in stark contrast when compared to the small clubs Soundgarden cut their teeth in almost 30 years ago–the same scene that spawned acts like Screaming Trees, Nirvana, Alice In Chains, Mudhoney, Tad, and Pearl Jam in the late 80’s and early 90’s. “The seats are cushiony, but fuck,” Cornell joked.
To be completely honest, the seats we had on January 18th were the best seats I’ve ever had for a concert (besides general admission, pushing to the front of the crowd, soaked like I’d been neck deep in a communal bath of teenage sweat, but those aren’t seats) and for the first ten minutes, prior to showtime, I actually just stared at the stage, shell-shocked. I was actually seeing my favorite band after a fifteen year hiatus, and I was close enough that I could have literally urinated (I piss for distance) on Kim Thayil’s Mesa-Boogie half-stacks. That gave me the thousand yard stare. I couldn’t even register a boner. “Hey, I think he’s wearing a Neurosis shirt” my wife said, pointing to Thayil. He certainly was.
The lights came down and the first dirty riffs of “Let Me Drown” began. My god, I felt like I would actually flatline. The feeling was somewhere between having my apartment raided and winning the Power Ball. That “Oh shit/Holy shit” correlation. I couldn’t get my head around the fact that I was actually there, witnessing the kickoff of Soundgarden’s North American tour in support of King Animal, their first album since 1996’s Down on the Upside. I felt like I was really part of something amazing, even in the small, almost molecular role given to me.
During a long, seamless stream of consciousness monologue about several rows of teeth belonging to a particular beast, Cornell extended his hand in the direction of Soundgarden’s founding guitarist and said, “King Animal is really titled after Kim.” What’s Kim Thayil been doing for the last fifteen years? Playing fucking guitar.
Thayil is easily one of my favorite musicians. His style, on the surface, is amped up and riff heavy, but it’s the subtle and haunting nuances most casual listeners miss or disregard which fully display the shallow end that opens up like a blooming lotus flower, revealing the richness of its color and depth. A wading pool overflowing with distortion that drops off into a black-water abyss. His guitar work still reminds me of something celestial, from outer space, vaguely Martian. Or of a person who has done enough sheets of acid to fill a Trapper-Keeper. Like a bearded prophet stumbling out of the forest, quietly claiming to have met God. A calm and calculated mad scientist. Realistically, he’s just approached playing the guitar differently than his peers and it set him apart from the rest. His work with Soundgarden showed the caliber of giant that walks among us.
It’s no secret that Chris Cornell is my favorite singer. In my completely biased opinion, in his heyday, Cornell was every bit as good as Robert Plant, Paul Rodgers, and Roger Daltrey. Better than Layne Staley, Eddie Vedder, and Scott Weiland. Better than Maynard James Keenan. At his best, Cornell’s vocals soared to the heights of songbirds like Mariah Carey and Whitney Houston. Singing either Sabbathian metal dirges or bellowing gospel-laden awhaws directed at whatever topic he’d had a jones for when he wrote the song. Truth is, he’s 48. He’s been doing this since 1984, and he’s not as good as he used to be. The highs are all but gone. They’ve been substituted with croons and soulful yawls that only showed a flicker of the fire that engulfed his larynx and drove those songs home two decades ago.
Some of the songs felt like something was misfiring. Like they needed an oil change or the gas tank was bone dry. For instance, the lyrics to “My Wave” were timed wrong and some sounded forgotten. It was off-putting. Cornell needed a road map. Like the engine was running but no one was behind the wheel. “Fell On Black Days” sounded like there was sugar in the gas tank. The music was all high-octane, but the vocals seemed to be taking the scenic route. However, “Live to Rise” which was from The Avengers soundtrack was better live than the recorded version which I found to be just safe and boring. Stuff that wouldn’t offend second graders or grandmothers.
That being said, everything else was on point. They were having fun up there. Moving around the stage, jumping on Matt Cameron’s drum riser. Ben Shepherd stalked around, big and brooding like a disgruntled machine shop welder about to rip something apart. Cornell joked with a teenager on the other side of DAR, “Kid, you’re too young to be sitting down. Your dad stood up.”
The music sounded like it did on the albums, like any diehard would want it to sound. It didn’t seem like it needed to be dusted off. It didn’t sound tired or generation specific. It sounded like goddamn fucking rock n roll. “If you could hear any song tonight what would it be?” my wife asked. I answered untruthfully. I said, “Probably ‘Slaves and Bulldozers’,” which they played as the final song of the encore. What I really wanted to hear was another song from Badmotorfinger. “Drawing Flies” has never been a favorite among Soundgarden fans, or so I’ve heard, but it’s always been one of mine. I honestly didn’t think they would play it. Why would they? But they did, and it was incredible.
Their 24 (!!!) song set featured favorites like “Loud Love,” “Spoonman”, “Rusty Cage”, “Jesus Christ Pose” and “Outshined.” If they hadn’t been played, people would’ve burned the place down, and I can’t say I would‘ve tried to stop them. Obviously they played several cuts from King Animal, and people were moving in their seats when the opening riffs of “Been Away Too Long” and “Non State Actor” began. Missing in action were “Burden in My Hand,” “Pretty Noose,” “Holy Water,” “The Day I Tried to Live,” and “Black Rain,” the Badmotorfinger leftover which finally saw the light of day two years ago on Soundgarden’s greatest hits album, Telephantasm. Even with those omissions, you’d be an asshole to complain.
I used to tell people the worst concert I’d ever gone to was also the best concert I’ve ever gone to, simply because it was Bob Dylan. His voice was terrible and he barely moved. He may as well have been a marionette. But it was Bob Dylan, a legend, and I’d probably never get a chance to see him perform again. Therefore, I ranked it number one.
Soundgarden easily took that spot.
The only thing that could’ve bested this show would be to time travel back to 1992, or to drink beers with the band backstage. It came within arms length to meeting all of my expectations. And I got to share it with Stephanie which made it all the better. Bumping into Chris Adler before the show was just the extra cheese on the Whopper. Sitting in seat A2 of Section U just before the lights came up, I couldn’t help but think of what Hunter S. Thompson said in Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas: “I was thankful to be alive in that corner of time in the world.”
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By Ryan Kent
