1964 - Forever
Brother, Father, Husband, Bandmate, Friend, Smart Ass, Mentor, Inspiration, Muse, Composer, Gifted, Rock God, Genre Architect, Philanthropist, Beacon of hope, and a million other things to a million other people.
But right now, by crooked steps, he is the hole inside my heart.
A little background about me: I was born into Soul, Funk, and early Hip-Hop; raised by Blues, Jazz, Metal, and 'Grunge'; and currently live by whatever song oozes from my fingers or drips from my lips. In an existence where the only constant is change, music remains the ubiquitous entity able to skate around the variable constant as a helix, shifting sounds with time yet always unapologetically present.
Somewhere along the way, I gravitated toward the vibes emanating from Alice In Chains and Soundgarden. Their music contained elements of my upbringing infused with crashing guitars, thunderous rhythms, off-kilter time signatures, introspective brooding, and preternatural voices that will haunt me for the rest of my life. Little did I know their respective lyrics and writing styles would become some of the most crucial navigational charts I would ever use to weather future storms. Or to what extent their influence would indelibly affect my creative calibre.
Jerry Cantrell and Chris Cornell, The Bear and The Snake as I like to call them, are two ever present slices of the eight part collective. As a songwriting guitarist, it's only natural I would grow fondly attached to them both. Jerry's approach to writing, with his esoteric metaphors and wordplay, has a brutally honest way of telling it like it is. His vocal harmonies with Layne Staley reverberated into my bones, forcing me to own up and face whatever particular truth I was fighting so hard to deny at the time. Chris's approach, also equally clever, would confirm said ugly truth. His voice however; be it banshee wail or velvet croon, was the poignant reminder that everything would eventually be okay. A simple reminder that I already had the strength to overcome anything. Be it rough seas or smooth sailing, band efforts or solo projects, neither one has ever let me down.
A fracture happened. After the release of "Down On The Upside", Soundgarden broke up. Like a kid in the middle of a proverbial divorce, my attentions went primarily toward AIC and Jerry's first solo record, "Boggy Depot". I visited Chris with his "Euphoria Mourning" record (and later Audioslave) on weekends. Jerry got me through the end of high school; the devastating loss of Layne Staley (the then conclusion of Alice In Chains); the first couple of college years; mortuary school; and the shit show that was my life between 2005 and the beginning of 2009.
Fast forward to 2013. Out of the blue, I had an unyielding desire to hear Chris's voice. I took my mp3 player and set everything I had of his on it to a playlist. I'd fallen in love all over again. To my disappointment, the digital collection only contained "Superunknown", "King Animal", one single from "Euphoria Mourning" and two singles from Audioslave's first record. I dug up old tapes and CDs, even ordering a few replacements to refill the discography tank. From the radio, other cars at stop lights, at the pub, over store PAs, to movie soundtracks, that distinctive siren call began to follow me everywhere. "Okay Chris, you've got me. I'm listening. What are you trying to say?"
In April 2014, there was a karaoke party at a local recording studio. I sang "Fell On Black Days", the sobering anthem that often comforted me during beatdowns of unexplainable sadness. From there, I was invited back a few more times and recorded a few extra covers before being encouraged to start bringing in original material. Somehow spending time in the studio opened the flood gates wide enough to decimate a decade long writer's block. Chris's "Scream" and "Songbook" records suddenly became the soundtrack of an endless summer that me lead on an unprecedented whirlwind road trip to NYC where I found Bleecker Street Zeke (the infamous 6-stringed love of my life); to NJ where I finally wrote a second verse to a song I'd started in 2005; to VA Beach for a continued celebration of Soundgarden's reunion and 20th anniversary of Superunknown, and back home to numerous local shows in between everything else. Working up the gumption to try out my new material for the inaugural attempt at open mic should have been a fitting conclusion to an exciting year. Yet a dark cloud of unfulfilled longing lingered.
While sitting in the kitchen one evening, knee deep in a research paper and mindless listening to Scream, I heard somebody say "Get up!" Frustrated at the audacity of interruption, I unburied my head from my work and loudly retorted "What!?" It took a moment to realise I'd just yelled at the stereo. Unphased by the outburst, Chris went on to sing:
Get up/ Get off the floor/ I said Get up/ Do something more/ You need a backbone to roll with the world/ You gotta get you one to run with bulls/ You ready?
That was it. I replayed track 4. Every word eerily paralleled my life at present. Who would've guessed the record many wagered would be the musical undoing of the great Cornell would turn out to be the conduit of my reawakening.
In January 2015, my long time friend and vocal coach, Kriston, suggested I enter NPR's Tiny Desk Contest. I, along with a few thousand others, lost to Fantastic Negrito (and rightfully so). His dirty grit sound reminded me of my own and his story inspired me to keep pushing forward; to, as he would later pen, "Hump Through the Winter". So I did. No fucks given. We became friends on Twitter and I've been following his work ever since.
By May, I had gone into the studio to record my debut solo effort with no label support, no budget for session musicians, and no time to wait on anyone. The dog days of August brought the first official Dirty Metal Lefty gig; however, the crisp airs of autumn would be the moment of truth. "Nevá On Sundays" dropped on October 16. Two days prior to release, I drove to Rockville, MD to see Chris during the first run of the "Higher Truth" tour. I left an advanced copy of my CD on stage before the show started, not so much for him but more so for me. As a matter of fact, he almost stepped on it during a Bob Dylan cover. That didn't matter because the gesture was meant to signify finality, a turning point if you will. I had crossed the rubicon heading toward how I'd plan to occupy the rest of my days.
2016 brought more gigs around town and shot Fantastic Negrito's career into the stratosphere. To my pleasant surprise, Chris tapped him to open on the European leg of Higher Truth's second run. I'd never been more proud, truly a win for every indie artist working to crawl out of the underground. Not long after, local punk band, The Weak Days, picked me up to hit the road with them too. Dirty Metal Lefty jumped out of the fish bowl. The highway offered new fans, new friends, and long hours of reflective contemplations. Negrito told me he didn't know for certain if he would continue his residence as opener for the North American dates so, I got to thinking. . .No fucks given. . .and placed a one-time bid for the slot when the tour stopped in Richmond, VA. The tour folks actually followed up expeditiously. Turns out Negrito would in fact stay on to finish out the rest of his tenure.
If you've never had an opportunity see Chris Cornell live in any capacity, then you have my genuine sympathies. Youtube videos and concert footage don't quite do the experience justice. The rock shows will keep you out of your seat, leaving you elevated with ringing ears and a hoarse voice. The acoustic gigs are a completely different monster entirely. I felt more in tune with those since I could relate to the unnerving quiet of being on stage armed with only a guitar and the timbre of your own voice. Exposed and raw. All of your vulnerabilities lay bare to the mercy of an unforgiving (and at times, intoxicated) audience. But he did it. He gave us his all seemingly with little to no effort, room by room, night after night. I swear, that man could sing the dictionary or the federal tax code and I would buy it no questions asked.
The aura of his presence is physically palpable. I guess that sort of thing happens from candidly sharing your soul with the world for over three decades. Before he utters a word, you feel as if you already know him. In a way, everybody knows him — especially when Chris the Human would slip out in between vocal melodies with his uncanny penchant for the lost art of storytelling. He'd regale us with the origins of our favourite songs, tales from the road, hilarious audience banter, ancedotes of fatherhood and how his wife is smarter than he is, or even occasional commentary on the news of the day. Some days I'd wish he would sit down to write a book of his musings.
Then it happened. One more item marked off the grocery list dreams and personal goals. I met him in Albany, NY (shout out to Linda for helping to make that happen). Maybe he remembered me from the show two nights before or maybe not. Who cares? Nevertheless, it was like catching up with an old friend. I mentioned how "The sun never sets on a badass." and his face lit up. What I remember most is his hug. My head rested briefly in the crux of a branch like limb affixed to the trunk on a redwood of a man. (Due to our height difference, I only came up to his armpit.) The single embrace drained from me every morsel of negative energy, every bit of stress, every residual scrap of unrelated malcontent; allowing room for a fleeting moment of total zen. That shit was magical!
Celebrity aside, I am inclined to believe the prodigious occurrence is a testament of his ever evolving empathetic character. Here was someone who'd braved the trenches, buried friends before their time, fought numerous battles against personal demons and WON; someone who made a point to use his position of influence to act on his own sense of personal responsibility through philanthropy and other altruistic undertakings.
Here was a man who had found his peace. Fates rest the souls of Andy, Layne, Shannon, Kurt, Jeff, Michael, Whitney, Prince, the others who have fallen on the journey. Through every stumble, he always lived to sing and play another day. That's what makes Chris's passing so difficult to fathom. We grew up with him. He was supposed to make it. He was supposed to die a gregarious old man still on top of his game, surrounded by loved ones and respected by all as the best to ever do it.
The trouble with finding peace is realising how much harder we have to work to hold on to it; perhaps even harder than the initial efforts to find it. Peace is elusive. It is the rain that slips between our fingers on a hot day. Even if we cup our hands to catch it, it can still spill over our palms out of our grasp when we're not careful. Thus peace is also precious. As I sit here, hours before his burial, weeping over the night he flew away, weeping for the song we'll never write together, the stage we'll never share, the bands he'll never play with again, the light of a candle extinguished too soon, the unforgettable hug that could easily eradicate cancer or at least my need for morning caffeine; my grief is deeply humbled by the fact that those hugs were probably a duty free routine for Chris's wife Vicky and his three beautiful children. I can't begin to comprehend the volatile tempest surrounding his family and close friends. I weep for them. I weep for Peter. I weep Ben, Kim, and Matt. For Eddie. For Tom, Tim, and Brad. I weep for the bonds of their brotherhood forged by blood and cemented in the music that keeps them together. I weep for the prospect of being forced to carry on with questions no one may ever have an answer to.
I refuse to offer any farewells or goodbyes because through us, the great Cornell is immortal. Instead, I am thankful. I raise my glass to the memories, to the friendships born from shared appreciation and admiration, to the Black Hole Sons conceived during Black Hole Sun, for getting us into trouble while keeping us out of it, for giving us the patience to keep calm and keep on rowing, to the Drop Ds, to the 6/8s and the 3/4s, to the laughs, the humility, the humanity, the middle fingers, to Chris spending the better half of 32 years without a shirt, to tears shed, to autographs, to searching all over town for a desired bootleg import, to standing in rain after a long drive to see the band, to the perfect combination of pizza and music videos, to a smile that continues to melt the shattered fragments of a broken heart, to charitable deeds, to social awareness, to understanding the world extends further than yourself, to the legacy left behind.
But still I weep. And I pray. May the weight we schlep on our hearts grow lighter with each passing step. As we commit his body to the earth today, let us not forget each other in the violet hours of the coming months for grief knows nothing of linear timelines. Listen closely in your moments of despair. Listen for that distinctive siren call. Chris has never let us down before and I don't see any reason he would do so now.
"Though your garden's gray, I know all your graces someday will flower in a sweet sunshower."
Peace and Blessings, Loud Love, Cheers
-"Dirty" Doc Thomas
(Dirty Metal Lefty)
[completed: 2017.5.26 revised: 2017.6.6]
[photo taken 2016.6.22 Richmond, VA]
An open letter to Chris Cornell’s family, friends, and fans
If I've had one constant throughout my entire life you could ask anybody who knows me, and they will tell you, it's my love of music. A great song moves me like the beauty in nature, a love shared between two beating hearts, and the peace people find with their spirituality. Chris contributed a soundtrack to my life that followed me through adolescence into adulthood. If I had to pick one desert island artist for all of time, it would be Chris Cornell.
As a young musician my first instrument was the saxophone during the summer of 1991. A few years earlier the same school band my older cousins played in covered Billy Idol's "Mony Mony." I immediately knew I wanted in and couldn't wait to be old enough to join. I remember growing up listening to the Chicago radio stations Q101 and Rock 103.5 that have long since gone off the air. Sitting in my room writing down all the bands I loved on a folder that held my sheet music. Soundgarden was one of many names I would write, but each time I would wear my folder out and get a new one the following year, Soundgarden was one of the first to be penned onto it.
As I entered high school I was taken by the guitar and for the last twenty something years there has rarely been a day I've set it down. This was about the time Soundgarden broke up and released their A-sides record, a conglomeration of songs I could listen and play along to that remains timeless. During my college years Chris formed Audioslave and managed to sprinkle in a few solo albums. Like a fine wine he kept getting better with age. It wasn't until I graduated and started working a full time job that I could afford to go to all the shows I desired and always made sure to catch Chris when he came through Chicago or Indianapolis.
It wasn't until 2009 that I got to see Chris play for the first time with his touring band at The Vogue in Indianapolis. I signed up for Twitter around then just because he was on it engaging fans. I started following bands I liked and some pretty rad internet weirdos like myself. One night I sent Chris a message asking if he had read any good books lately after hearing him mention Sylvia Plath's "The Bell Jar" as a song inspiration during an interview. Instead of responding he decided to retweet something I said earlier in the day to millions of his followers when I joked about my single life. He then proceeded to follow me along with a few strangers who thought I was one of the cool kids.
When Chris, Kim, Ben, and Matt reunited Soundgarden at Lollapalooza in 2010, I was there, even though I had to drive 5 hours back home after the show just to make it into work the next day. That show was bittersweet because some new friends from Southern Indiana, that I found through twitter via Chris, gave me their VIP tickets for the day due to a misfortune. The death of their son's best friend from a car accident the night before pulled them away to console him through the tough time. It was the first time we met after months of making each other smile and laugh over the internet. We hugged and I made sure to take pictures for them, but I wish they could have seen the awesome show with me.
In 2011 Chris was on his acoustic songbook tour and came to Chicago's Vic Theater on April 22nd. It was the 5 year anniversary of a dreadful day when I totaled my Firebird while on vacation in Georgia and got a DUI that was later dismissed. I spent the night in the drunk tank even though I blew under the legal limit and some shady locals ended up chopping up my car that I never saw again. I was so glad to finally have something else to remember that day for and I took my dad to see Chris play that night. The only other show my dad had been to at that time was in the '70s to see The Who rock out when Keith Moon was still on drums. He loved every minute of the acoustic set, especially The Beatles and Led Zeppelin covers Chris did. I really wanted to get to the show early so I could be up front and possibly ask Chris to do a duet, but my dad was getting off work too late for that. A fan did end up getting on stage that night and I remember telling my dad I wanted to do that too.
Later that year Chris came through Indianapolis and played to a sold out show of about 2,000 people at the Murat's Egyptian Room. I managed to get front row tickets and was driven to see if I could get up there with Chris and play a song with him. I nearly didn't make it out of town when I was pulled over running a red light, just minutes after picking up my friend from work to head down to Indianapolis. We were so excited, I was like a deer in headlights when the yellow traffic signal turned red and I sped up instead of slamming on my brakes, in front of a police car I didn't even notice until I blew the light. My friend was dressed in a suit for work, I had long hair, looked like a hippie, and they were suspicious of drugs after we said we were going to a concert. They searched my car and eventually let us go on our way.
Before the show started I met my Twitter friends who gave me the VIP tickets along with their son and a friend of his. I told them I was going to try and play Sunshower with Chris, coincidentally it was their wedding song, but if I could play it, the big man was going to kiss his little wife in public. They love to joke about public displays of affection. When Chris came out, I asked, and he took a chance and let me join him up there a few songs later. My friend's wife got her kiss and to this day the whole night still feels like a dream. I could pinch myself to wake up but the proof is right up there on YouTube, "Chris Cornell plays Sunshower with Eddie from Chicago." Even though the few thousand plays are probably just my dad watching it all the time, I can't help but feel humbled that Chris let it happen and multiple people I had never met before captured the moment on their phones. Once again the internet magic of Twitter struck and I found out the other guy I saw get up on stage in Chicago actually lives about 25 minutes away from me here in Muncie, Indiana. We've hung out and jammed a couple times since.
I never got to meet Chris again after that night or talk about our duet, but I think a friend said it best. "Just think, tonight Chris Cornell is talking about playing with you! How cool is that!" and he made the evening even more special, as if that were even possible. I did see Chris perform many times after that. The only show I missed was his last songbook stop through Indianapolis because my band was recording in the studio that weekend.
I have to say, my favorite performance was seeing Temple of the Dog reunite last year. While visiting a close college friend out in San Francisco we saw them play the most amazing set of songs. I can barely put into words how phenomenal that night was. There was an ambiance in the air that still gives goosebumps just thinking about it. I'm also grateful to attend one of the last shows Soundgarden played in Indianapolis, but the news of his passing a week later still has me in disbelief. My dad was the first to break the it to me with an e-mail as I woke up for work. I've rarely felt so much denial wishing it was some cruel internet hoax. The only other time that I felt this way was when a friend called me during my youth to tell me his dad died in a boating accident, when we had gone out on the water in it just a few days earlier with him. Soundgarden had just released "Down on the Upside" less than two months prior and Chris was there to help us cope together with his music. Even though it took hours just to download bootleg songs through a dial-up internet connection.
The music Chris shared with the world will always be a part of me. He was there through my first love, heartbreak, deaths, and celebrations. He will continue to be a soundtrack to my life and an inspiration to express myself musically. I'll always wonder if he got a kick out of my tweets over the years or if he dug my music when I would link it, but I can find closure in the fact his music has helped me through tough times before and it will continue to. I will forever miss him, his stories, the glimpses he would give in to his loving family life which he finally had after years of misfortune, his philanthropy, and the music he did not get a chance to grow old and make.
My heart goes out to his family, you have my deepest sympathies. Christopher, Toni, Lillian, your dad showed his love for you to the world and we'll all remember how much he cared about you. My dad was fourteen when he lost his father to a brain tumor. I felt even closer to Chris when he sang his friend Rory's lyrics about passing on to the other side in the song "I promise it's not goodbye." My Grandma raised four kids and became the glue that held four generations of our family together without her soulmate, before she joined him again decades later. There will be joy in the years ahead no matter how hard things may be right now. Go after your dreams, anything can happen if you believe in it. Vicky, thank you for entering his life when you did, I know you'll find the strength to get through this with your family. Toni K and brother Peter, my Grandma also lost a child, my dad a sister, to cancer before her time. Oddly enough she was the one in the family who loved music the most and encouraged all her kids, nieces, and nephews to take up instruments, me my saxophone. In a way, I can thank her for introducing me to radio, where I found Chris singing to me, as this circle of life continues. Death is a pain that's hard to bear and everyone's is unique. I only wish that you find peace. I want to hug you all.
To anyone else out there hearing my story, I want you to know I never planned on sharing this much of myself. It's just my way of coping with the loss of such a beautiful soul and what happened to pour out of me tonight. I can also speak from experience the type of vivid dreams medications can have on a person. I once woke up in the middle of the night trying to attack an intruder before realizing I was throwing pillows at shadows, trying to attack a lamp as I tripped over furniture, bruising and cutting myself up pretty bad. Had I not been alone or if I had my gun near me, I fear what could have happened. Since then I've stayed away from prescriptions and just try to surround myself with people and talk about what sets off my anxiety, even though it's strenuous as an introvert. Chris was a victim of his own mental health and he's not alone out there. If you or someone you know is having a rough time, talk it out, even if it feels like the walls are caving in.
Peace, Love, Rock and Roll
-Eddie Igras
Thank you, Chris
Once upon a time in 1989, a girl (me)... heard an intoxicating voice (you) and so it began...
This is the first line of a handwritten letter I had the most fortunate pleasure of giving Chris Cornell. It happened in Regina (rhymes with the body part), Canada, 1700 miles from my home. For more than 25 years, Chris's voice and lyrics have flowed through my veins, filled my ears via portable cassette/CD players, iPODS, computer speakers, car speakers, smoky, loud concert venues, or even just in the voice inside my head. I had dreamed off and on of meeting him, but mostly my contentment lied in far off admiration... a fan girl fluttering around, wandering wherever his brilliance shined.
It wasn't until recent years, perhaps driven by my own maturing mind nearing my 40th birthday, that the idea crept in. I need to meet Chris. This idea exploded once I heard Higher Truth, what I deem as Chris's masterpiece to the world. Sure, he'd given us masterpiece after masterpiece before; but this was the penultimate. It touched me in ways no other Chris had done before! I listened for more than a year, every day. Saw him five times that tour. Meanwhile, I'm always monitoring the meet and greet site. "Sold out" it would always read. I'd always think, "lucky...." Then one day, scrolling as usual past all the "sold outs," I noticed one distinctly different. "Available." I blink to adjust my vision. My heart beats faster.
What if?
I knew this was the only way. I'd always heard the great stories of fans running into him after shows, or getting close enough to hand him a note. I even thought of making a paper airplane. Yeah, I'd tried all that! Never worked.
So I knew what I had to do and so began a really long, drawn out logistics experience that I won't get into here.
(What follows is an excerpt of what I wrote the day after my experience, edited just a tad)
Fast forward to the evening in Regina. In my hotel (might I mention I flew to Canada alone) I receive a text: “Hi Emily, Martin here. Chris C’s security. Please meet me at the merchandise table at 7:30 pm with your guest. Thanks.”
Shit just got real.
And, uh… I don’t have a guest.
I shower and get ready, putting on my best attire. The tights I brought were NOT the ones I expected, but oh well. I think I looked the best I could in that moment.
Then I get another text: “Our flight is delayed. Let’s meet at 7:45 instead. Don’t worry you will definitely meet him before he goes on.”
Breathe. It’s ok….
I gathered my items to bring and walked to the bus stop. I get there no problem… it was a short walk to the Conexus Art Center… however there was NO sidewalk leading directly to it, so I had to poke holes in the grass to get there with my heels! Oh well! I got there just after 6:30 when doors opened. People are starting to trickle in. The front doors are VERY close to the admission area and very small merchandise booth. I give the nice older lady at will-call my last name and she can’t find it. I tell her I’m on the band’s guest list. God, I felt SO special. This was it! Finally, I get the real fan treatment!!!! I wait for a while and another lady comes out and says they’re retrieving my ticket. A short while later she brings it back… It is orchestra row G (13th row) – well I had 4th for Charlotte, so I was a little disappointed, but immensely grateful I wasn’t BALCONY! I check out the merchandise and don’t buy anything. I go to the bathroom to adjust my annoying tights and check makeup. I get a drink of water from the fountain. I check FB. I stalk my text message box.
Then at 7:45: “Just left the airport. Be there soon.”
Holy shit again. Soon. He’ll be here soon. I’d been waiting for over an hour, so soon felt so - soon.
Back to the bathroom to adjust. More water…. Back to the merch booth. And there was Martin, who said “There you are. Let’s go…. follow me” … and so it began. I looked at Martin, grasped the items I brought for Chris and walked, one foot in front of the other, up some stairs, weaving through the crowds, dodging dudes juggling beers. Taking deep breaths. Heading to and through the black doors that lead to the other side where Chris is. Inside it’s pitch black and Martin has to shine a light and say watch your step. I mention how nervous I am, and Martin tells me something like – “Don’t worry, Chris is really cool.” He says we’ll find a dressing room and set up. We go to the first one on the left through a narrow hallway. It’s small, carpeted and lit with dim florescent. There is a mirrored wall to the left with a long, brown table beside… a small, dingy white-tiled shower with a curtain (which I peer into and briefly wonder if I’ll have to shower after this whole experience). There’s also a toilet straight ahead, with an old-timey white sink in the middle. There are angled mirrors to the right, fashioned in dressing room “style”, and a small black, mini fridge alongside. Martin grabs two plain, brown cushioned chairs and puts them right in front of each other. The room and space are so small, the chairs so close together.
Then he says he’s gonna get Chris. Then I almost fail to breathe. I have to actually remember to breathe. While Martin’s away I realize my mouth is so parched. I spy a nearly-empty abandoned water bottle on top of the mini-fridge and desperately debate swigging it, but instead take a quick a drink from the faucet. It’s so nasty, but I don’t care. I wipe my mouth and look in the mirror. This is it. No time for primping. No time for remembering. I turn and moments later, Chris rounds the corner and almost glides into the room, like a Rock God apparition. There he is, standing RIGHT in front of me, hand outstretched. We shake hands and I place my other hand on his and smile. He hugs me. Wow. We sit. The items I brought for autographs are next to us on the table. And before I know it, I look over the door is mostly CLOSED and we’re sitting, directly in front of each other in this tiny space, just the TWO of us!!!!!!!!!! Chris Cornell and I are alone, although very briefly. I had him ALL to myself, contained, no one else around!! How cool is that! What did we talk about? It’s kind of a blur, but here’s the gist.
I told him I’m from Texas, and explained that this is my 5th concert this tour and that I came to Regina because it was the only meet and greet left. We talked about Canada and he told me that growing up in Seattle, he came to go fishing a lot when he was younger with his dad. I (think) I told him I went to Banff for my honeymoon and mentioned seeing the Canadian Rockies from the plane this trip. During what seemed like a lull in conversation, I told him Higher Truth truly touched my soul and I just had to meet him to tell him that IN PERSON. It was the real reason I was there. I wished him a happy, belated birthday and congratulations on the wonderful tour. He smiled and said thanks, his eyes twinkling behind his glasses. I told him my son loves to sing his stuff and showed him a video of him singing Nearly Forgot My Broke Heart. I know my three year old son sings at least 3 songs – NFMBH, Josephine and Higher Truth, but I could not for the life of me at that moment think of all three! I stumbled and jumbled telling Chris the track names, while trying to find the video. He held my phone and smiled and chuckled softly.
As we’re sitting I am just trying to take it ALL in, looking at him without trying to stare, but trying to remember EVERY detail. He had a reddish shirt with little holes scattered all over it, with a shirt underneath. His glasses were dark, with a beautiful greenish tint around the edges. At one point I wanted to compliment him on them, but the moment passed, like several others before and after that. I noticed lots of gray hair in his roots. I noticed a pronounced muscle on his playing arm. His skin was glowing, so smooth. I thought he seemed small, not short (obviously) but small framed, barely any width to him, like I could wrap both arms around him twice! He had greenish pants and big boots on. I noticed him long fingernails (for guitar plucking). He has aged well. Very well. He is truly beautiful. There is just no other way to put it. So the conversation went on. I asked if he missed his really long hair, and flipping it around. He smiled and said something I can’t even remember. I mentioned the Temple of the Dog reunion and that I missed the presale and he said tickets go on sale soon. I gave him his gift, explaining the quote inside the frame. I said I read somewhere that he loves to read and that I picked the quote by Sylvia Plath (his favorite author) because it reminds me to stay in the moment, which I was trying to do JUST then.
“Remember, remember, this is now, and now and now. Live it, feel it, cling to it. I want to become acutely aware of all that I’ve taken for granted,” it read.
I told him about the letter I wrote to him that’s inside the frame, and he turned it over and looked for it. I laughed and said it’s inside the frame and he can open it later. Now I wish I would have taken it out. I think he thought it was taped to the back…. He seemed like he wanted to read it right then. At some point Martin came back in with a gold Sharpie and disappeared…. I can’t remember when that was, but shortly after Chris picked up my ragged Higher Truth CD cover. I remember watching him turning it over in his hands and thinking WOW, he’s holding the masterpiece HE created… I think I mentioned to him that I missed the Songbook tour, but so glad I’ve been able to see Higher Truth. He then said something like he was glad he was able to put out a CD with new songs, because SB was mostly previously released material. He muttered something about Soundgarden re-uniting. I remember him saying that it’s impossible to play under 2 hours because he just has so many songs. All the while, he’s talking AND signing his trademark signature, carefully placing the words on the front cover. I can’t even remember if I told him my name, and here is signing it, correct spelling and everything! He put the cover down and Martin came back in, then as we’re standing up Chris offered to sign my Singles DVD cover. I told him it’s my favorite movie and he should have won an Oscar for his “brief” role. Both he and Martin grinned. Hee hee.
Martin suggested where to stand for the picture – by the door. We stood so close, he put his arm around my right shoulder and I put mine on his left hip. It all seemed so natural, like we’d met before. I wasn’t nervous touching him, but I definitely noticed the feel of him!!! As I turned to gather my stuff, he bent to hug me very close. His hair was right next to my face and I clung to him gently and breathed his sweet smell in DEEPLY. I told him “thank you. From the bottom of my heart, your music means the world to me. I am a loyal fan forever, thank you so much.” He looked at me after that and said “thank you” with such simple sincerity and grace. And then it was over. As I’m being whisked away back to reality, through the darkness and into the light of the theater, I hear Martin call to me, WAIT – here’s a guitar pick and he gives it to me. As I exit I see the stage to the left through some curtains and realize I’m “BACKSTAGE”… and I want to stay there. Exiting, I passed by opening act Fantastic Negrito, who I had also just met (along with several other fans) at the merchandise booth. He said “Hey, I know you!” And I giggled like a softly like a schoolgirl “I just met Chris!!!!”
(end excerpt) *note, I am 4'11 and Chris is 6'2 therefore you only see my eyes in the photo.
And with that....
May 18th will always be a day of sorrow for me. The day the world lost Chris. His brighter than bright light extinguished, but the flame carries on his musical legacy and his children. I will miss you always, Chris, and will hold tight to your voice forever.
Rest easy in the Superunknown, Chris. Sleep tight.