Chris Cornell at the Grand Ballroom: San Francisco 5/1/2009

I wasn't going to write this blog. But hell, if Hard Rock Chick can say it, so can I.

For those of you who have stuck with this since the beginning (thanks Dad!) you might remember that the first show I ever blogged about was Chris Cornell in Santa Cruz. I enjoyed it: it was loud, the band had fun chemistry, and Cornell's kid-friendly charm and effortless charisma carried the day. I hadn't heard much of his stuff (some Audioslave, some Soundgarden, and "You Know my Name") but I had a good time.

A lot has happened since then. "Scream" came out: you can read my opinion of it here. I ended up getting banned from Chris's forum for reasons still unclear to me (though some...'ahem, "spirited" debates might have had something to do with it.) But the most significant thing was that I've seen, in person, Chris's old bandmates. I've seen Tom Morello play three times. I've seen what a glorious monster he is. Pete Thorn and Yogi are excellent guitar players, but with their powers combined, they can't come close to the unholy might of Morello's infamous "Arm the Homeless" and when they play those Audioslave covers, damned if you know it.

And I saw Soundgarden. Soundgarden as a beast without a head, but a living beast. It was nothing less then astounding.

Chris played two of the three Tadgarden songs. They were fine.

Really, that's how I describe this show. To sum-up: it was fine.

Chris's backing-bandmates are more fused with each other and with Chris. They have the feel of a group with serious road-miles under their belt. They were fine too, but I couldn't help but wonder if, and why, they were jostling with Chris for the spotlight. Or why Chris would give it to them. They're HIS backing band, after all. I guess the respect-your-bandmates stage instinct hasn't entirely left him, which is to his credit actually but it makes for a confusing live experience: who are you supposed to watch? Why would you watch someone you didn't come to see? Who are these musicians anyway?

They deserve better. Yogi in particular is a lovely player with a fluid, effortless style and I hope that very soon he will have better gigs then this one.

Okay kids, today I am going to tell you about something called "Frontman Syndrome." Every music fan knows that you can't have a great band without having a great frontman: he's the face of the group, the one the audience is going to project onto. The best frontmen have charisma and personalities that become intertwined with the group's sound and identity.

When band's break up (happens sometimes) and those frontmen go solo, they often find they're suffering from the blessing and curse of being literally unable to open their mouths without conjuring the ghost of their old band. Or both of their old bands, in Chris's case. This is "Frontman Syndrome." It's nostalgia on such an unconscious level that it's often mistaken for something else, and the danger becomes when the singer himself doesn't know that he's cruising on someone's fond memories instead of current reality.

Chris Cornell has justified all the covers he plays by pointing out he wrote all the music for them anyway, but it doesn't matter who wrote them when that essential, insubstantial something is missing.

He'll keep touring. With each show he'll get more easy, more confident, more comfortable. And I suspect my love of the old stuff is strong enough to keep me comming back.

But don't go looking for rock fire here. It's like the brief, breathtaking pose that Cornell struck with his acoustic: legs wide, head down, hair flying as the band kicked in at the end of his solo acoustic set.

Seeing him in that pose, just for a moment, that acoustic is a skuzzy black Gibson. That hair is even longer. You see the shadows of Kim Thayil, standing a mile high, and Ben Shepard's cool swagger. You hear the ghost of Cameron's extra drums and flying sticks. And for a moment, a brief moment, you get the smallest glimpse of the stuff musical legends are made of.

Then it's gone.
What you're left with is just fine.


Also, those hecklers were back. You know, the ones from Tom Morello's show. I couldn't believe it. They started a goddamn fistfight right in front of me. Thank God they didn't recognize me. Dreamer's bad audience karma: will it ever end?