Death is all around us. Mostly in America, we avoid it.  For some reason, it's comforting to acknowledge Lady Death and make peace with her. 

When I write a song that confronts my fears...when I sing and breathe out that fear, that ominous presence--a kind of exorcism happens. And the fear is banished. Or at least slinks away sullenly into a dark corner somewhere.

That's what happened with this song: healing magic. (Also, it's kind of badass, as acoustic songs go.)

A recurring nightmare.

A nightmare no more.

Exorcism.
 

Update: Check out the song "If I Die in My Dreams", by Jezebel's new side project Bye Bye Banshee.

Masters of Performance: Chris Cornell, Part 2 

Note: I just woke up this morning to find out about Chris Cornell's death. He was a music hero to me, mostly because of his phenomenal, expressive singing voice and partly because Soundgarden was one of my all-time favorite rock bands. RIP, Chris Cornell. The world won't be the same without you. 5/18/17 -JJ
 
7 live performance moves you should steal from Chris Cornell:

1. Create a Conversation. 
   One of the great things about watching Chris Cornell perform in Seattle was watching the ongoing, natural conversation that was happening between him and thousands of fans. While making that kind of connection with total strangers is more challenging, engaging the audience—asking them questions, answering their questions or just bantering like you would with a friend—makes a show personal and memorable. Janis Joplin was brilliant at inviting the audience to converse with her, as was Townes Van Zandt. When you listen to their respective live recordings, you feel like you’re part of something…instead of just listening to something.
    
2. Perform with Emotion. 
   One of the biggest gifts a performer can give the audience is to share their emotions in a genuine and raw way. I see this so rarely; Chris Cornell is pretty great at it. It doesn’t hurt to start out with a gorgeous voice, but plenty of great singers fail to move me emotionally. Conveying true emotion—and bringing the crowd along to feel it with you—is harder to do then most people think. It means vulnerability, letting go of ego so you can really ‘feel’ what you’re singing/playing. It also means letting go of self-consciousness and the need for perfection.
    
   Perfection is not terribly interesting, especially if the song or performance lacks emotion. Some roughness is absolutely essential.
    
3. Provide some eye candy. 
   Cornell had an understated but beautiful set and visually it set the mood for the evening. Humans don’t just hear things with our ears, we “hear” with our eyes, too. I love it when smaller bands or individuals take the time to do this—it really adds magic to a performance.
   
   Sure, it takes a little extra effort to create a backdrop or add a few stage props, some lighting effects, etc. but it helps your audience get (and stay) in the mood and feel more like they’re at a show, and less like they’re just watching some random band.
   
   P.S. unless you’re as recognizable as Chris Cornell, you should probably have your band/artist name displayed on stage during your set. This is helpful for getting new fans to know who you are and for them to reference when they're sharing pics/videos of your show. If you’re looking for DIY backdrop ideas there are some excellent tips here.
    
4. Use effective transitions to tie songs together. 
   I think many artists (especially ones who perform solo) struggle with how to tie the songs together and keep momentum going as they switch instruments, tune, etc. This was one of my favorite parts of the Higher Truth show: I absolutely loved the transitions between songs. In addition to conversing with the crowd, Cornell had a record player on stage and his tech played snippets of vinyl sometimes between the live songs. In addition, Cornell used a loop pedal sparingly but effectively during some transitions and as a swelling cacophony at the end of the show. It really got the crowd pumped for the encore.
    
5. Invite a guest or two—living or dead—to join you on stage. 
   For this tour, Chris Cornell played mostly solo and acoustic.But he had an excellent cellist, Bryan Gibson, who joined him for several songs throughout the evening; he was absolutely stellar and gathered his own applause during the show. Cornell also told a very hilarious—but clearly fictitious—tale of how they met “back in the day”. In addition, Pearl Jam guitarist Mike McCready joined him onstage for a couple of songs, much to the delight of the crowd.
    
   But one of the appearances that impressed me the most was Cornell’s former backing pianist—and songwriter in her own right—Natasha Shneider, who died of cancer in 2008. Cornell had recorded her piano part years earlier and put it on vinyl.  He explained this as he set the needle on the record; as her beautiful playing filled the auditorium, Cornell and Gibson rounded out the trio. It was a really lovely song and a fitting tribute to his friend.
    
6. Change things up. Frequently.
   Honestly, when I first saw the stage before the show, I’ll admit I did a teeny tiny eye roll at the 7…8…9? guitars on stage. For a SOLO acoustic show, mind you. But it made sense during the show—Cornell kept the performance interesting by changing things up frequently. In addition to some of the things I mentioned earlier—such as musical guests and good transitions—he changed instruments (different tunings, different sounds, harmonica) regularly throughout the set. The show had a lot of variety, considering he was on stage by himself for most of the 3 hours he performed.
   
   Oh, and wow: kudos to his hard-working guitar tech who barely stood still the entire show.
    
7. Steal a clever idea from a master performer.
   At some point in the show I realized that Cornell was wearing a harmonica rack around his neck—sans harmonica—and that he was actually singing into it, instead of a headset mic. I marveled over this clever idea before he explained how he saw Neil Young do it; Cornell stole the idea from him.
   
   
   I hope some of these ideas are helpful.  Please let me know if you have some additional advice for people looking to improve their live show. 
   
   
   Sin-cerely yours,
   
   
   Jez

Masters of Performance: Chris Cornell, Part 1 – Seattle ‘Higher Truth’ Show

 
Note: I just woke up this morning to find out about Chris Cornell's death. He was a music hero to me, mostly because of his phenomenal, expressive singing voice and partly because Soundgarden was one of my all-time favorite rock bands. RIP, Chris Cornell. The world won't be the same without you. 5/18/17 -JJ

***************************************************

I’m in my overpriced, moldy Fremont living room listening to the hazy, warm sounds of The Cult’s ‘Love’ album on vinyl, trying to decide what you tell you about last night. Damn. What a show.
 
After my recent move to Seattle, I found out Chris Cornell was going to playing a solo acoustic gig at Benaroya Hall, in the heart of downtown. Since I was on the mailing list (and if you’re a fan you probably should be on it), I got the early box office deal and splurged on 3^rd row center.
 
Now I’ve seen Cornell perform with Audioslave a few times, mainly due to my ex-boyfriend David, aka ‘the Minneapolis Mensch’. For many years, he was a sound guy/tour manager for Chevelle; I went to a few shows the two bands did together back in the day. I really dug Cornell’s smoky, multi-octave vocals, so I started listening to a shitload of Soundgarden, digging beyond the few hits I’d heard on the radio as a kid. Truthfully, it turned me into one of those annoyingly un-hip post-band-breakup fans. Looking-forward-to-the-reunion-‘cause-I-never-saw-them-live-before kind of deal. I apologize profusely for any pain this may cause real Soundgarden fans.
 
Fast forward {x?} years and I’m in Seattle, stoked about seeing Cornell’s solo show, strolling through a HUGE CLOUD OF POT SMOKE—some of which I may or may not be responsible for—and into Benaroya Hall. Some ridiculously nice older-lady ushers point the way to the “good seats” and I settled my leather dress-dressed self into the roomy third row, a mere 20 feet from the stage.
 

With Mike McCready. Photography: PeterDervin.com

At this point, if I were a Chris Cornell fan-freak, I would launch into some annoyingly-detailed play-by-play, citing every goddamn thing that happened during his set, including analysis of each song he played, the exact order he played the songs and how Cornell kinda-sorta clammed halfway through this one particular song but it was still SO amazing and blah, blah, fucking blah. 

Well, I’m not going to do that.  It sounds like a fairly tedious post for someone else to write. Probably some pale bearded hetero-man, who happens to have Mr. Cornell on his ‘allowed-to-be-gay-for’ list. Actually, if you must know some of these things, you might want to reference Dusty Henry's review on Consequence of Sound; it's detailed but not tedious. 
 
I CAN tell you this: the return of this Rain City son to a sold-out crowd of fans and friends was a beautiful thing to experience. He played almost everything I wanted to hear (except Mailman) and almost everything EVERYONE wanted to hear (except Outshined) because HE PLAYED FOR 3 MOTHERFUCKING HOURS, much of it solo. He played and played and sang and sang until some of the 40 and 50-somethings who had kids waiting at home with teenager babysitters had to leave.  And then he did an encore. 
 
SO instead of lulling you to sleep with a detailed analysis of the drop-D or drop-(insert favorite here) tunings on Cornell’s 9 or 10 guitars, in a few days I’ll publish a follow-up piece called Masters of Performance: Chris Cornell, Part 2 – 7 Ways to Make Your Next Live Performance Shine. Maybe there will be 10 things if I get all Irish about it. I think we can all benefit from the interesting creative decisions and killer performance skills that went into making last night’s show a memorable experience.
 
In the meantime, I’m packing my things. Moving day looms once again, like the approaching clouds of winter.  




-JJ
 

Read Masters of Performance: Chris Cornell, Part 2