Soundgarden photo: Paul Harries
One thing that makes Total Fucking Godhead so eminently readable is how tightly-conceived and yet flooded with detail it is: it moves at an incredible clip. The second half in particular accelerates at something approaching breakneck speed from the moment it gets to Chris’ battle with prescription opioids during the inception of Audioslave (or Shitstorm, Plato’s Surprise and After School Special aka ASS as they were once going to be called). Whereas the first 236 pages deal with Chris’ childhood, the grunge explosion and Soundgarden’s ascension and break-up, that leaves just 100 pages or so to race through the bulk of his solo career, Audioslave, plus reunions of Temple Of The Dog, Mad Season and Soundgarden. This is not to say these chapters are not fascinating, fleshed out or revelatory – they most assuredly are – but some fans, particularly of Chris Cornell’s post-millennium work, will perhaps wish for the same level of attention to these albums that Soundgarden’s early material receives. Indeed, it is a testament to Corbin’s gifts as both a writer and researcher that another hundred pages or so wouldn’t have gone amiss.
It is Chapter 16 that offers a necessary inspection of what remains for so many around the world a still-open wound: Chris’ death. He was at a truly remarkable position in his career at the time; his band reunited, an open door for Audioslave to reform, a solo career that was in full-bloom and soundtrack work to boot. There remain no answers for what happened on May 17, 2017 in Detroit. But it is in light of this that it's important to highlight the greatest strength of this book: the lens through which Corbin chooses to frame Chris’ life. Total Fucking Godhead may necessarily end on a note of sadness, but the book is not constructed as a slow-motion, 52-year tragedy in the making. It is a celebration. Be it in literature, news columns, features, documentaries or films, so often coverage of anything grunge prioritises the Three Ds: depression, drugs and death. All necessarily comprise the story not only of Chris Cornell – but also many of the lives closest to him, no more so than Chris contending with the fatal overdose of his roommate/Mother Love Bone frontman Andrew Wood. This is all present and delicately handled.
Yet it is to Corbin’s eternal credit that he balances such despair with joy. Yes the vulnerable human behind the extraordinary talent is traced, but so, too, is his compassion, such as helping Filter’s Richard Patrick through rehab. Also, crucially, is ample evidence of Chris’ ability to simply goof around. There is much to deny the old ‘Frowngarden’ criticisms of old, be it him drinking “bile beer” (as grim as it sounds, FYI) at Lollapalooza, or the time he dressed up as an actual black hole sun for a Halloween party. You may shed a tear while reading this book, but you will also almost certainly laugh, too. And that is a true reflection of a singer who, onstage, could make audiences weep to his music but also burst into hysterics via his self-deprecating wit and razor-sharp sarcasm.
“A miscarriage of musical justice.” That was Corbin’s overview of how Chris Cornell and Soundgarden have been represented (or rather not) in the constellation of grunge literature so far. Well, that miscarriage is over. Here, at last, is the complete story of Chris Cornell’s life. And it both deserves and demands to be cherished.
Total Fucking Godhead: The Biography Of Chris Cornell is out now.
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