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Few will refute the simple exclamation that Chris Cornell has one of the most intense and recognizable voices in all of rock music, at least during the past two decades. He's also been one of the most prolific songsmiths, first with Soundgarden, then Temple of the Dog, and most recently Audioslave. He's gone from underground legend (Soundgarden) and cult hero (Temple) to arena rock superstar (later SG and Audioslave) and he even managed to toss of a solo album in the midst of all that.
After his recent departure from Audioslave and the high profile (though ultimately lackluster) title song for Casino Royale, it should come as no surprise that Mr. Cornell would dip back into the solo pool. This time around sounding a lot less like his early career comparisons to Robert Plant and more like a gentler voiced Ozzy, Cornell delivers up an extremely mixed platter of rock ambiguity.
It's not that Carry On is crappy, it's just that the musicality shifting, lurching, and rolling behind Cornell's patented vocal careen isn't particularly spectacular. Actually it's more schizophrenic or perhaps more accurately it's suffering from a serious case of sonic personality disorder. On the one hand Cornell's band of the moment dishes out pretty standard, paint-by-numbers barroom-turned-arena rock. A lot of it ripples with after effects of late '80s LA metal crossed with a much slicker and less jammy interpretation of Southern Rock thematics. On the other hand it seems to shift without a moment's notice from style to style, often multiple times in a single song and every so often in a single measure. The end result is that Cornell's steady, confident vocals loose their foothold on the loose gravel music beds. Some might applaud such diversity, but in the end it merely serves to create a less streamlined listening experience.
Meanwhile "Arms Around Your Love" is a maudlin (for Cornell) song that has a chorus which sounds suspiciously like something Third Eye Blind would whip out on one of their numerous hits. Then it's into contemporary pop terrain, complete with lilting moments of Al Green falsetto on "Safe and Sound," a track that sounds nothing like Chris Cornell (i.e. if you weren't aware it was him you'd never guess it was). It's strangely compelling, but also soft. Granted even the hardest of rockers have a hidden mellow side, but this is bordering on Rob Thomas meets vintage R&B; territory.
By far and large "She'll Never Be Your Man" is the strangest tune on the album, lyrically speaking. If I didn't know better it almost sounds like Cornell is outing himself. Or maybe I'm reading too much into lines like "she can be your lover/she can be your friend/she can be your vision of your mother, like the one you never had/she will know your troubles better than I can/but she'll never be your man…" Of course it could just be an Iron John/male bonding/Budweiser drinking/pool playing ode. I'll leave the interpretation up to others at hand.
Raggedly twangy and rusted guitar leads into the shimmering acoustic sheen of "Ghosts," yet another track showcasing the more tender side of Cornell. When he ain't growling and yelping he actually has a pretty beautiful voice, but it's at such odds with his created persona of the raging, howling frontman that it takes some getting used to. That and the fact that the musical backdrop isn't anything that stands out from the rest of the pack of mature crooners (Rob Thomas, John Mayer, and the like) out there today. As much as it sounds like I'm hating on this track, the more you listen to it, the more it will grow on you, mostly because Cornell and the music actually mesh. It's the most consistent track on the album, for better or worse.
Strange outfits, odd transportation choices and horrible cov...
