Soundgarden - rock group - Interview

Interview, March, 1994 by Steven Blush

Look at Todd Oldham's flair for firing up the runway with narrative clothes. You know his mind's destination is Yellowstone or Yosemite, not St. Tropez or Capri. Oldham cherishes the American tradition of new frontiers and the notion that fashion territory can be continually expanded even if our geographical borders never budge another inch.

But to the initiated, these Pacific Northwest nomads are the founding fathers of a trendy regional style: a Black Flag/Black Sabbath punkmetal fusion, which has set the aural standard for juggernauts like Nirvana, Pearl Jam, and Alice in Chains. The first flanneled Emerald City outfit to ink with a major label, Soundgarden - vocalist Chris Cornell, lead guitarist Kim Thayil, drummer Matt Cameron, and bassist Ben Shepherd - could have easily cashed in on Cornell's rock-jock good looks for an orgasmic fifteen-minute joyride. But despite Cornell's wildly popular Temple of the Dog side project, his bit part in Cameron Crowe's film Singles, the band's '92 Grammy nomination, and the inclusion of a (butchered) version of their political-incorrectness anthem "Big Dumb Sex" on Guns N' Roses' recent punk-tribute album The Spaghetti Incident?, Soundgarden seem doughtily disconnected from the traditions of show biz. Some may call them holier-than-thou gnarly-dude prima donnas, but Soundgarden are genuinely gawky, overly sensitive, punk-weaned professionals. And while this antistar attitude hasn't always served them well commercially, Soundgarden are perhaps Seattle's most-respected rock outfit.

This month Soundgarden will unleash their fourth album, Superunknown (A&M). It is easily their finest studio effort to date: loud, proud, and pleasantly devoid of pomp or circumstance. Propelled by Thayil's brooding but powerful guitar mantras, and the machine-hard rhythm section of Cameron and Shepherd, Soundgarden prove their place as leaders of the new school. Meanwhile, Cornell has cut his fabled flowing locks and chucked his trademark flannel, but never fear, because the song remains the same.

I spent a few hours with Cornell and Thayil at A&M's posh, overstocked conference room, where we burned incense and hurricane lamps and discussed what it takes to be serious musicians on a sometimes-frivolous musical frontier.

STEVEN BLUSH: You were probably the first band for which the term grunge was coined. What do you think that term represents now?

CHRIS CORNELL: I think it's come to mean alternative, in a way. I saw a grunge compilation album with a picture of a flannel shirt on the cover, and only half of the bands were from Seattle. Now it seems like that word embraces almost anything that's popular. You can watch a Tony! Toni! Tone! video and most of the people in there are wearing their version of grunge fashion. They look like they're from Seattle, yet it's an R & B song. So grunge has become an easy marketing reference, a handle for people who aren't particularly interested in listening to music or in what it is that the bands do.

SB: How have you tried to distance yourself from that cliche?

KIM THAYIL: It's hard. But now we avoid wearing flannels; that's the only way. The other thing is to not have dreads.

SB: Unlike many other Seattle bands, you've never played the rock industry game and haven't achieved the multiplatinum successes that many of your peers have enjoyed. Do you ever regret that decision?

KT: We're happy with what we've achieved. Every record we've made has furthered the growth of our line of success. It's never disappeared or gone backward: each record sells more; each tour is bigger.

CC: If you sold a million records, the only way you could be disappointed is if the guy down the street sold seven million. But you've got to start dodging bullets once you've sold that many records, because everybody wants to kill you. We're not in that position. We can still be very successful and not have to worry about wearing bulletproof vests. When we were starting out, we were the biggest draw and the first band to get major-label attention, which was unheard-of at the time. Later, people would come up and say: "There's this new band and we think they're pretty good. They might be cooler than you. "

KT: It's like the challengers to the throne. I'm not afraid to say that there definitely is a Soundgarden Lite that has been presented and has had success. But a Soundgarden cover band doesn't reflect poorly on us. People wouldn't let their kids listen to black music, but they were totally happy when Elvis came out.

SB: How have things in Seattle changed since grunge went international?

KT: The benefits aren't as obvious as the detriments. In the last year, being home, I've been more paranoid when dealing with public situations.

SB: Despite your use of soaring, high-register vocals and hard, nasty guitar, you're not what most people would consider a typical heavymetal band. What's your relationship to metal?

KT: None of us had much respect for it or listened to it prior to the time we got together: that's the truth. A lot of people began to think of us as a metal band, and maybe we're really a good metal band because we never used the metal scene as a source of inspiration. It wasn't until after we had been a band for a few years that we started referring to stuff other than punk rock and art.