Soundgarden’s 20 Best Songs
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The post Soundgarden’s 20 Best Songs appeared first on Consequence.
Growing up, Soundgarden was always the cool Seattle band to follow. Maybe it was the late Chris Cornell’s carnal pipes, or Kim Thayil’s sludgy riffs, or the way everything sounded as if it was ripped straight out of a post-apocalyptic world from Mad Max, but the band’s sound traditionally connected with those who had a predisposition to cynicism. Not just any cynicism, but rather a learned cynicism, as if they were in on some sort of secret that disabled all hope in favor of a mature sense of realism. Then again, it could have just been the kids at my lunch table. Who knows.
What we do know is that Soundgarden were one of the hardest rock bands of their time. They were the Zeppelin to Pearl Jam’s Who, a kinetic force that worked less like a hurricane and more like a typhoon. Yet unlike your average metal band, they had a soft spot, and that gooey middle could wrench out a harmony from even the muddiest distortion. Much, if not all, of that had to do with Cornell, whose solo work and side gigs proved that he was always on the melodic side over, say, the razor’s edge (I mean … have you heard him sing “Ave Maria”?). Here, we take a look back at Soundgarden’s 20 best songs, from the heavy hitters to the melodic epics.
— Michael Roffman
20. “A Thousand Days Before”
I’m out of the business of telling bands what to do. If you want to call it quits, keep going, or get back together again, you won’t hear boo from me. As much as 2012’s King Animal, which I gave a so-so grade to as a critic, reminded listeners that bands can’t ever truly go back again, I’m still so glad Soundgarden reunited to tour and make that album. Listening to that sitar-style opening, a vocal style that I thought only Perry Farrell could pull off, and another one of Cornell’s outside-looking-in songs driven home by a matured version of his patented wail, well, who could begrudge the Knights of the Soundtable one final quest? Not me. — Matt Melis
19. “Birth Ritual”
Fun fact: Soundgarden were the first grunge band to sign to a major label, and when you first listen to the thudding violence of “Birth Ritual, that little bit of trivia seems like an anomaly. But then you start to notice the subtle things, like how Cornell’s voice surfs off the waves of distortion in a manner that’s both catchy and familiar. This song is one of many Cornell compositions that helped illustrate the sonic palette of Cameron Crowe’s Singles, and they even sing it on screen in the film. “To anybody who has attended a Soundgarden concert, in any era of the band’s popularity, the powerful emotional heft of the group is hard to forget,” Crowe writes in the liner notes for the soundtrack’s new reissue. “I was anxious to feature a live performance in the movie.” Well, that anxiety paid off and helped usher Soundgarden into the mainstream, and this cut deserves some of the credit. — Michael Roffman
18. “Gun”
A reminder both of the wise-ass anger of the grunge scene and the fact that Soundgarden ran in concentric circles with metal-leaning acts like the Melvins, the head-banging Sabbath thunder of “Gun” pushes macho aggression while simultaneously mocking its violent tendencies. Those bass-heavy riffs and Cornell’s seething delivery scream masculinity, but the brilliance of double entendres like “shoot shoot shoot till their minds are open” denounce the very violence that it seems to promote. — Adam Kivel
17. “Face Pollution”
Like much of the grunge scene, Soundgarden have at least one root in the punk world, and the jagged “Face Pollution” embraces it. Sure, bassist Ben Shepherd wrote most of it in the very un-punk 9/8 time signature, Ernst Long adds a trumpet to the guitar riff, and the unison section gets a bit proggy. But the full-steam ahead thrash and Cornell’s screed against conformity and fake selves is pure punk. While other bands get the apathy tag more often, “I don’t feel like feeling/feeling like you” hits that nail pretty well on the head. — Adam Kivel
16. “Head Down”
On record, “Head Down” was a tad overshadowed given its placement next to grunge-era classics like “Spoonman” and “Black Hole Sun,” which is unfortunate because it encompasses the best elements of the band as good as any one song its ever produced. From the dark minor key chords to the odd time signatures, Kim Thayil’s penchant for guitar heroics to Matt Cameron’s other-level drumming, it’s a song that perfectly boasts the prog-meets-metal technicality that helped lift the Seattle band a notch above their flannel-clad peers. — Ryan Bray
15. “Flower”
As the only single on the band’s debut album, “Flower” stands as Soundgarden’s introduction to the world outside of the Pacific Northwest. That introduction is a charging rhinoceros through the speakers, a blend of swirling psychedelia (complete with feedback caused by Thayil blowing over his guitar strings) and monster metal riffs. The main attraction, unsurprisingly, is Chris Cornell’s voice, equally impressive in its menacing grit as its apocalyptic yowl. — Adam Kivel
14. “Ty Cobb”
The actual Ty Cobb was a fantastic baseball player in the early 20th century and purportedly had a terrible temper and was a huge racist piece of sh*t. According to the band, it just used “Ty Cobb” as a placeholder for a symbol that everyone would know as a notorious piece of sh*t. Hey, at least he’s got a stubborn cardio-punk song to his name. –Jeremy D. Larson
13. “Loud Love”
That isn’t an E-bow at the beginning of “Loud Love”: “I simply stood in front of the amp, got the note ringing until it was feeding back, and slid my finger up the fret on the string and dragged the feedback with it,” Thayil once explained. Too many ’90s guitarists dabbled in ’70s rock, but Thayil really made it work, soldering Black Sabbath’s late-night distortion to Zeppelin’s whimsical riffage to create a fine plateau. Regardless of the peaking aural altitudes, Cornell kept climbing, and on this one, his scraggly hair’s caught up in the atmosphere. — Michael Roffman
12. “Mailman”
The nuclear engine chug of “Mailman” employs some of the most open-ended dark lyrics in the Soundgarden catalog. While Cornell reportedly told a crowd once that the song was about killing your boss, the chorus (“I know I’m headed for the bottom/But I’m riding you all the way“) evokes a knowing sneer for anyone ready to take somebody else out. Thayil’s downtuned guitar crunch seems to have already spent a good deal of time at that bottom, and Cornell’s howl up the creep factor, every inch of the tune spitting catharsis through gritted teeth. — Adam Kivel
11. “Burden in My Hand”
Great songs don’t just resonate with the best parts of our being — they connect with the frustrated, down-and-out parts, as well. Despite its gorgeous melody, “Burden in My Hand” remains one of those songs that makes us squirm. Thayil called it an update on “Hey Joe,” as a troubled protagonist lures a lover out into the desert to meet her fate. Cornell totally sells it; he’s almost slurring, stumbling — a conflicted wreck who seems powerless to stop what he’s about to do. And some sick part of us — that part that belongs in a rusty cage — can’t help but sing along and clench our fists. — Matt Melis
10. “Spoonman”
The origin story of “Spoonman” ties back to Singles. The title for the song was initially on Pearl Jam bassist Jeff Ament’s list of proposed fake band names for the film. Although Citizen Dick won out in the end, “Spoonman” still found a way to swoop into the film — as an early acoustic jam — and you can hear this rendition on the deluxe edition of the soundtrack. Naturally, the song would resurface two years later on Superunknown, fully electrified and unconsciously primed for a Grammy, which it won in 1995 for Best Metal Performance. Not bad for a little ditty about a California street performer. — Michael Roffman
09. “Rusty Cage”
Before nu-metal bands bought 7-string guitars to make all their dirty riffs even lower and gnarlier, Thayil was downtuning his E string to a low B back in 1991, and there’s hardly a Soundgarden song that felt that harder than “Rusty Cage.” The Route 66 highway chase of the verses and choruses are only parenthesis for the bridge — one of the quintessential head banging moments in Soundgarden’s catalog. The song announced the new guard of Soundgarden, a fleshed out metal band. Or was it grunge? “Rusty Cage” leans hard into both genres, feeling both like a Pearl Jam and Led Zeppelin song. — Jeremy D. Larson
08. “Pretty Noose”
That sun-spoiled, wah-drenched guitar riff, which more or less bubbles up the song, could very well summarize the ’90s alternative sound — not to mention its lyrics. “And I don’t like what you got me hanging from,” Cornell croons repeatedly, pasting up another bonafide slogan for Generation X. Note the track’s hazy fatigue that refuses to subdue, much thanks to Cameron’s druggy percussion: “When we recorded that, I had walked to the studio (in Seattle) and my legs were really tired. But to make a long story short, I was trying to get a walking feel on the drum part. So it probably has a little weird shuffle to it probably from that walk that I took to the studio that day.” — Michael Roffman
07. “Nazi Driver”
Soundgarden have always fallen into the dark, but “Nazi Driver” could tickle the likes of Charles Manson to death. Gnawing on a crumpled piece of tar, Cornell spouts out Holocaust-themed lyricism, pleading that he’s gonna “make it right.” There’s been debate amongst fans about its perspective, but it’s far creepier if the narrator is, in fact, a proud Nazi. A “pile of bones” is his bed, and he wants to “make it right” by “rip[ping] the legs from the thighs.” If it weren’t for the proud post-punk behind it, this one would make a superb black metal anthem. File this under “spooky.” — Michael Roffman
06. “Fell on Black Days”
“Fell on Black Days” is a lyrical suicide note showcasing the aphotic side of life in the Pacific Northwest. Between the rain, the heroin, and the imperceptible gnaw of depression, things get bleak. The occasional black day affects everyone. But being trapped in a doomed existence with no light or hope for change is a crippling state of worthless being. “Black Hole Sun” finds Cornell bellowing an aloof apathy, greeting the end of times with a baleful grin, whereas here, Cornell pleads, mourns, then resigns. There won’t be an escape; just mental anguish and pulsing regrets. Thayil’s odd time-meter signatures augment the off-kilter menace, while Sheperd’s bass trudges through the inky muck of another day in Hell. This track sticks like tar, but it’s staying power is a tribute to the band’s comprehension of the dark times as well as the good. — Dan Pfleegor
05. “Outshined”
Cornell isn’t exactly the poet laureate of grunge, but “I’m looking California/But feeling Minnesota” is one couplet that, ironically, stands out among the rest. That feeling of feeling forever outshined by what’s around you, forever in the shadow of someone else, forever Midwestern, resonates long into the future, 20 years after its release. And if there’s a highlight among the song itself, it’s Cameron’s manipulation of the drum part at 4:43. Soundgarden always knew how to build a song to a climax, to give their songs a good, pleasing, rock-and-roll arc — something simple to reconnect with the blues rock of old. Air-drumming with Cameron is essential on “Outshined.” — Jeremy D. Larson
04. “Black Hole Sun”
There are a handful of songs that can stake a claim to being the de facto “grunge” anthem. “Black Hole Sun” definitely deserves consideration. One thing that rankled Cornell a bit was that listeners often didn’t recognize how sad the song actually is due to the pretty melody and singable chorus. “Hang my head, drown my fear/Till you all just disappear,” resolves the song’s protagonist. Following Cornell’s passing in 2017, it’s hard to hear anything but significance and sadness in this anthem. — Matt Melis
03. “Jesus Christ Pose”
Creating controversy just on its title alone, “Jesus Christ Pose” is not a song critical of religion, but rather the large-than-life personae associated with many rock frontmen, and at the time, particularly Jane’s Addiction’s Perry Farrell. Penned by Cornell after growing irritation at seeing public figures simultaneously craving while publicly decrying god-hood, “Jesus Christ Pose” pairs biting, critical lyrics with extraordinary technical musicianship. Thayil opens the track by bending his strings to create a feedback crunch before repeatedly punctuating Cameron’s rapid-fire percussion with twisted riffs. Meanwhile, Shepherd adds some density that surprisingly elevates the already brutal, ear-shattering sounds to a near perfect concussive ensemble. It’s a homogeny of heavy metal riffs, hardcore fury, and alt-rock accessibility that finds Soundgarden at near-perfection. — Len Comaratta
02. “Blow Up the Outside World”
Anyone comparing themselves to The Beatles is just asking for trouble, but Soundgarden more than earned the right to do so after recording “Blow Up The Outside World.” “I suppose there is a bit of Paul McCartney and a little bit of Lennon in the flavor of the song,” Thayil said. He’s right on the money, as the constant tonal shifts are akin to the Jekyll and Hyde dynamic of history’s most famous songwriting team, and more importantly, the many sides of Cornell himself. He was always at his best when he amped up the frustration and scaled back the poetry. Here, we get to experience this angsty ascent firsthand, from the weakened reverb of the verses to the raw-throated explosion of the chorus. It all fades to oblivion at the end, when everything melts into a staggered psychedelic chant that sounds like the wishful title has been fulfilled. — Dan Caffrey
01. “The Day I Tried to Live”
Chris Cornell never wrote a finer track than this, and arguably, he’s never sounded better, either. (For proof, wait for his nasally wail four minutes in, when he just f**king lets loose on the chorus.) Although it’s outright bleak (“The lives we make never seem to ever get us anywhere but dead“) and decrepit (“I wallowed in the blood and mud with all the other pigs“), there’s a positive vibe to it all that runs deeper than the chummy rhythm section of Shepherd and Cameron. That’s not a mistake, as Cornell told Rolling Stone: “A lot of people misinterpreted that song as a suicide-note song. Taking the word ‘live’ too literally. ‘The Day I Tried to Live’ means more like the day I actually tried to open up myself and experience everything that’s going on around me as opposed to blowing it all off and hiding in a cave.” — Michael Roffman
Soundgarden’s 20 Best Songs
Consequence Staff
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