chris cornell calls scream 'a meeting of two worlds'

by melissa martin, this is winnipeg, november 2008

COMMON WISDOM: when an album’s release date is pushed back, it can usually be traced to one of three factors:   

A) the album sucks;

B) there's drama at the label compound; or

C) something's gone horribly wrong in the mixing room. (Recent examples: Britney Spears, U2 and uh, Dokken. Ultimate example: Guns N' Roses.)

Don't draw conclusions from the two-month delay of Chris Cornell's new record, Scream.

"I wanted that to happen," he says. From an airport somewhere in the American Midwest, the former Soundgarden and Audioslave frontman ticks off his reasons.

For example? He was "ahead of schedule" for a new disc (his sophomore solo effort, Carry On, was released in June 2007). Universal pushed a Nov. 4 street date, but Cornell anticipated "other news pieces that just might be more important that week, or that month."

So while Barack Obama hogged the headlines, Cornell kept a lid on Scream. But if you see the singer live this Saturday at the Burt, you'll know this isn't Chris Cornell like we've ever heard him before.

This is Chris Cornell by way of Timbaland.

Call 'em a lock for 2008's oddest couple award. One of grunge rock's most distinctive throat-shredding singers and pop's most commercially valuable producer, a guy whose knob-twiddling skills can move a million albums -- how did this happen?

Cornell first approached Timbaland (a.k.a. Timothy Mosley; Cornell calls him "Tim") to talk about remixing Carry On.

"He said that remixing isn't something he does, because he likes to work with original music," Cornell says. "Then he started reciting lyrics from some really obscure songs of mine that even I didn't remember. And I just thought, why not do a whole album?"

Sounds easy enough. The unlikely duo wrote and started recording the album in only six weeks. "I think the first few days we were concerned about finding common ground," Cornell recalls. "But then we didn't think about it anymore. We just started pushing each other.

"It's a meeting of two worlds," he adds. "It's not at all like hip-hop beats and guys singing instead of a rapper. This is different. This is songwriting coming from a lot of places."

The end result of all that songwriting is a (literally) non-stop album. There are no breaks between songs, just beats. Lots of tripped-out synth and melodic choruses. It sounds like... well, exactly like Timbaland producing Chris Cornell.

Does Cornell fear his hard-partying rock fans' reactions? So far, so good: the singer has performed the whole album eight times this year, and "it takes people by the fourth song to realize that the format is different. There's definitely a curiosity there, a different response to the rhythmic nature of the music."

Don't expect to see Cornell rev up a rock band again. Since leaving Audioslave in 2006, Cornell's been enjoying the (musically) single life.

In every band, members develop their own hobbies, and "mine is music," he says. "The typical cure for this when it comes to bands is the side project. But I've never liked that. For me it's like a vanity thing, and it's never taken seriously."

He pauses. "Now, I'm playing places in Canada, in the world that I haven't been to before in my 20-year career, just because I couldn't get a band to commit to being on the road."

Chris Cornell plays the Burton Cummings Theatre on Saturday. Tickets are $49.50 at Ticketmaster.

Reprinted from This Is Winnipeg - originally available as an online feature here

Chris Cornell Fan Page © Clare O'Brien 2008