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