I was Chris Cornell’s biggest fan.
I know I’m not alone in saying that. You could be too, and I hope you get there. If you decide to take the journey in discovering who he was, and what he will always be, you will eventually appreciate just how massively superior he was to almost every artist, and yet understand how burdened he was as a person.
If you’re skeptical of my assurance, I don’t think you will be for very long. Continue reading
Metallica fans may be one of the most devoted groups in music, but they sure know how to pick a bone with their favorite superstars. To wit: 1) the bass is never mixed properly on the records, and neither Jason Newsted nor Rob Trujillo can match Cliff Burton, so who cares anyway? 2) Lars Ulrich is an egomaniac who can’t keep a beat or find an adequate snare sound, and 3) Kirk Hammett favors his wah pedal and the rigidity of the pentatonic scale to ever reclaim his former glory.
No one ever says anything negative about James Hetfield, though.
There is Axl Rose, running, always running. He never seems to stop. Whether it’s 1991 and he’s in biker shorts throwing tantrums and quitting halfway through gigs, or whether it’s 2016 and he’s in jeans ripped at the knees, the capricious vocalist sprints from side to side of the gigantic stage. It’s almost like he’s angry, like you said something bad about his girl and he’s about to kick your ass. Then, suddenly, like a track star who’s finished the race, he pulls up and his neck sticks out, peering into the throngs of people surrounding his stage. Maybe he’s searching for that guy talking smack. Or maybe he’s just looking for approval.
It’s a curious question, to be honest. Most of us (at least those 25 and older) probably own more music in physical formats than we do movies or television. And even then, music is inherently more personal than any other medium. Whether it holds memories of times when your crush didn’t like you back, or when your family fell apart, or that one holiday season when everything came together, our favorite music — more specifically, albums — are always with us: Your favorite songs don’t just stay in your head: they bury themselves in your heart, for better or for worse.
She couldn’t stop sweating. And she was hungry. So after A Day to Remember had finished playing its rousing set, replete with T-shirt guns and flying toilet paper, we thought it might be a good time to step outside to the concourse area and grab pizza, or a pretzel. We chose pizza.