Sunday, July 20, 2014

Soundgarden - Superunknown


Though I’ve spent much of my time diving into mostly independent acts, my CD collection is hardly lacking for seminal records. In fact, much of my current exploration was kicked off by listening to those records that had been deemed imperative by rock enthusiasts. As I entered high school, my interest in Seattle’s grunge scene had begun to blossom, and when I received Soundgarden’s Superunknown for Christmas one year, I was overjoyed. For the next five years, I spun this record so often that my dizziness forced me to shelve it for a while, but in returning to it now, I find that I have an even deeper appreciation for the fifteen songs that define Superunknown.
Anyone who spins Superunknown will quickly realize just why this record is revered. The array of sounds that these four musicians compile throughout the album is extremely diverse, a fact hardly undue to the four talented musicians who put it together. Kim Thayil’s guitar seems to touch upon every possible genre and mode available to him as he grinds through heavy chords in “4th of July,” whirls along strange scales in “Head Down,” and shreds across the fretboard in “Like Suicide.” Chris Cornell’s vocals similarly climb and dive along energy, volume, and tone, screaming in songs like “Let Me Drown” while walking along above a whisper in “Fell on Black Days.” Behind this chaos is more chaos, as Ben Shepard beats strange and complicated lines out of his bass, and Matt Cameron smashes his set with steady hits and teases his cymbals into madness with gentle taps. This duo locks itself into a tight unit of rhythm while playing with high caliber attitudes, taking tunes like “My Wave” and “Spoonman” and turning them into rhythm-driven monsters.
The four members of Soundgarden are ostensibly a tight-knit unit with almost-familial chemistry, and this complete musical synthesis allows them to create extremely complex and intrinsically intelligent compositions. For Superunknown, all four members are principal writers, and the resulting conflicts and synchronicities in style and thought allow for insanely interesting songs to form. In an interview with Guitar World, producer Michael Beinhorn commented that this record is “four guys with completely different points of view about how they compose and what they like,” the results of which, while remaining undoubtedly Soundgarden, “represents more of what they're about as individuals.”[1]
This convergence of individual thinkers is one of the reasons why Superunknown is laden with technical choices, including a pile of odd time signatures: “Fell on Black Days” and “Fresh Tendrils” are in 6/4, both “Spoonman” and “The Day I Tried to Live” groove between 4/4 and 7/4, and “Limo Wreck” stomps through a maddening 15/8. Interlocking with these syncopal structures are the many alternate tunings employed by the guitarists, including Drop-D (“Spoonman,” “Let Me Drown,” “Black Hole Sun”), Drop-C (“Mailman,” Limo Wreck”), Open-C (“Half,” “Head Down,”), Open-D “(Like Suicide), and even the ridiculously overlapping EEBBBB (“My Wave,” “The Day I Tried to Live”).[2] And although Kim Thayil asserts that such insanities are naught but “a total accident,”[3] he may be suffering from a bout of humility; there is a clear method containing all this madness, for every note on Superunknown feels precisely natural. Soundgarden’s four members may have been writing for themselves on this record, but the ultimate product is something as cohesive as it is manifold.
Although the shape and structure of the songs on this album are as varied as snowflakes, these musicians connect best as a unit, and the consensus apparently was to write a record that is both dark and heavy. The guitars chug and the drums pound, while Cornell’s deviant and oppressed poetics mix with his soulful vocals to imbue dismal emotion with a terrifyingly gritty and brutally genuine authenticity. For me, one of the darkest tunes on the record is the trudging “Mailman,” whose pulverizing, distorted guitar progression sounds like a B-side from Black Sabbath’s Paranoid sessions. This slow progression is built over two initial measures of 4/4 followed by a measure in 7/8 and a measure in 6/8, a movement that reflects the slow but sure diminishing voice that plagues Chris Cornell’s lyrics. While the band slogs along beneath him with heavy chords, booming hits, and rumbling bass, Cornell intones in the voice of the formerly oppressed that have risen above their oppressors. Once the “dirt beneath your feet,” Cornell has finally found both recognition and power, and the crushed now gets to do the crushing. With an almost sickly moan, he wails “this time I’m sure you’ll know that I am here,” before riding the object of his loathing “all the way” to the bottom.[4] Chris’ character seems willing to destroy himself if only to even the score, his revenge fueled by pure hatred and unfettered by any sense of self preservation. Between the rattling main riff and Cornell’s vocal, “Mailman” is defined by absolute hopelessness, a song stained black with utter despair.



Similar to the pervading darkness, Superunkown is defined by its unrelenting heavy tone, upon which apparently most of the time recording was spent perfecting.[5] There is a significant weight present in the guitar sound, which permeates each tune regardless of energy or subject matter, and for no song on Superunknown is this truer than “Head Down.” Penned and arranged by bassist Ben Shepard, “Head Down” features an acoustic rhythm guitar layered with a distorted and reverb-laden electric guitar, the combination of which is surprisingly deep and resonant. In an interview with Melody Maker, Cornell described the song as “a big, wide, open song” that “sounds like a place,”[6] and certainly the soaring and interlocking guitar parts in the main riff, not to mention Cameron’s improv-heavy drumming, paint their own musical landscape; however, when the guitars begin strumming chords under Chris’ falsetto, this scene suddenly becomes more nightmarish, as the blending acoustic and electric create a sound that is nothing but sinister. The sweeping space of the song suddenly shrinks into a stifling cell as Chris demands, “Bow down to live your life.”[7] Furthermore, the seemingly random percussion layered in the background is reminiscent of either hard labor or gunshots, thus morphing this cramped space into an oppressive one, such as a prison or POW camp. Though a relatively simple and quiet tune from this record, “Head Down” carries both a sonic and emotional heaviness on its back that contradicts its gentle demeanor.



Burgeoning from the lyrical content of Superunknown is a whole slew of dark themes and ideas that further knits the record together. Cornell contributed the bulk of the poetry on the album, and it is easily evident that he is in touch with his inner disturbances. Death and destruction are heavy influences on Chris’ hand, as he describes an LSD-induced apocalypse in “4th of July” and the karmic payout of decadence in “Limo Wreck.”[8] In a similar vein, both “Fell on Black Days” and “The Day I Tried to Live” revolve around the idea of being unable to conquer the troubles of living—in these songs, living is figurative suffering, an idea which is explored more literally in “Head Down” and “Mailman.”
One could easily argue these depressing themes have been far overworked in music, but Cornell’s linguistic choices in presenting them gives fresh breath to this beaten corpse. Although his imagery is relatively sparse, Cornell nails the listener with vivid images that become lodged in the head. Rather than focus on visuals, however, Soundgarden’s frontman employs heavy use of contrast, contradiction, and paradox, giving us phrases that ignite our brains into intellectual frenzies. In “Superunknown,” he uses his verses to destroy the automatic associations we create with words, such as “If this doesn’t make you free / It doesn’t mean you’re tied / If this doesn’t take you down / It doesn’t mean you’re high.”[9] A similar contrast is employed in “Fell on Black Days,” as he moans “Whomsoever I’ve cured I’ve sickened now / And whomsoever I cradled, I’ve put you down.”[10] Cornell even applies this idea of contradiction to an entire song in “Spoonman.” Written for the Seattle street performer Artis the Spoonman, Cornell states that “Spoonman” is about “the paradox of who [Artis] is and what people perceive him as.”[11] In such ways, the lyrics present on Superunknown effectively tap into the darkest parts of our psyche by breaking down both the language and the thought processes that give shape to the world around us, using our own minds to better capture and proliferate the themes of the record.



In crawling back to Superunknown after years of hiatus, I must say that I am even more impressed with how cognitive and tremendous this record is. I do, however, have one bone to pick with Soundgarden, or more specifically, Matt Cameron. Although an undeniably talented drummer (Pearl Jam picked him up, after all,[12] and he was also featured on Smashing Pumpkins’ Adore[13]), Cameron’s beats are very simple and full of open space. And while I can truthfully say I’ve never heard a drummer so effectively employ negative space, I feel that his lack of improvisation, attack or even fills pins the album’s energy to the ground, keeping songs that would otherwise explode in a fiery mass from even popping. There is so much dead air in his percussion that if that’s what you’re focusing on, you can very quickly lose interest in the music.
Despite this single misgiving, Soundgarden’s Superunknown has undeniably earned its place in the list of seminal rock records. With abrasive guitars, heady composition, and thoughtful lyrics, Superunknown’s fifteen tracks inspire the body to move and the mind to whirl. There is no shortage of interesting moments or innovative concepts on this record, yet the soul of the band is what is forefront, because, as Kim Thayil put it, “We’re not throwing our brain at people….we’re sharing our heart.”[14] With Superunknown, Soundgarden delivers both the cerebral and the meaningful via tunes that are extremely catchy, a prodigious combination that makes each listen as dangerous as it is brilliantly fun.

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