Uneven Flow

M.J. Fine does it again

by M.J. Fine

In the '80s, metal was metal. Sure, there was glam metal � a gateway genre for Jersey girls � but dudes' dudes dominated. By decade's end, even Grammy voters knew it when they heard it: Metallica won for Best Metal Performance in 1989, 1990 and 1991. But in 1994, the Grammy went to an arty little number with a spoon solo. How'd that happen?

Soundgarden Superunknown (A&M 1994)

Chris Cornell Carry On (Interscope 2007)

Soundgarden was still opening for Skid Row and Guns n' Roses when the cool kids were supposed to be burying arena rock once and for all. They kept up with their tourmates for volume, heft and hair length, but their penchant for distortion and humility helped them ride the alt-rock wave. Not quite fitting in worked to their advantage then, and it does now. Credit their virtuosity: Along with guitarist Kim Thayil's mastery of odd tunings, Chris Cornell's controlled wail set the band apart from all the tortured junkies in the Seattle scene. Grunge's shelf life turned out to be shorter than metal's, but Soundgarden still sounds vital.

For their fourth and most successful album, 1994's Superunknown, Cornell clipped his locks and tapped a local performance artist to jangle flatware on "Spoonman." After that unlikely hit, Soundgarden was untouchable, issuing a string of singles including the cynical "The Day I Tried to Live," the punky "My Wave" and the gorgeous, brooding "Fell on Black Days." Inexplicably the blissed-out "Black Hole Sun" took the Grammy for Best Hard Rock Performance. Cornell's lyrics are dark and muddled, but even "Like Suicide" finds a reason to wake up and keep going.

On the other hand, his new solo album, Carry On, barely breathes. "No Such Thing" leaps out with a monster riff and a killer chorus, but Cornell keeps retreating into its clinically depressed verses, and he doesn't really come alive again until the album-ending "You Know My Name," a tarted-up version of the 007 theme he contributed to last year's Casino Royale. "She'll Never Be Your Man" and "Your Soul Today" read like sex jams, but they sound just like 10 a.m. at an out-of-the-way titty bar. And if "Billie Jean" made people think twice about Michael Jackson's private life, Cornell's dirgelike cover sounds more like a shut-in's paranoid fantasy than the plausible denial of a heartbreaker who might've knocked up a girl he met at a club. But it's not all bleak. At least Audioslave is dead.

(m_fine@citypaper.net)

Chris Cornell plays the Electric Factory on July 29.