Screw Attack

SUPERUNKNOWN
2/18/94

The artistic peak of grunge is subjective. (As is the case with every other musical genre. Except for reggae, which reached its apex prior to the late 1960s.) The commercial peak is easier to pinpoint: from September 1993 to February 1994, each of the Big 4 released records that reached number one on Billboard's Top 200 Albums chart, selling a combined 21 million copies in the U.S. alone.

And all four happened to be fuckin' fantastic.

"Let Me Drown"--Dedicated to all the sad burlap faces moaning about haircuts. Call it "Virgin Mary Puss," 'cause it's an immaculate opening. Chugging along on a pair of pulverized ankles, fresh off a vacation in a walk-in freezer, for what more could I ask? Throw in some religious refs and the ever-mysterious "she" and ding ding, somebody come up and claim this thing.

"My Wave"--Everyone deserves their own patch of planet, free of the hassle and harassment of the greedy and grody. Oh to live within walking distance of a beach, even if only for a fourth of the year. No worries over a spot to park (be it a car on the pavement or a butt on the sand) and shell collecting to beat the band. Who are beating back pretty hard.

"Fell On Black Days"--Loneliness leads to sadness. Wait. Scratch that. Reverse. And for God's sake, put the needle back on the record where it belongs.

At least Soundgarden's "fuck me I want to curl up and blow up ala Samus Aran" songs are cheerier than Alice In Chains's, thanks to the massive egos behind them.

"Mailman"--A postal worker injects himself with clonazepam to facilitate the duties of the day. Later, he'll crush up hydrocodone to palliate the torments. A solid week this goes on, fooling his blood into thinking it's a solid, filling his mind with thoughts of power and entitlement. Whether he chooses to compartmentalize his ensuing blow-ups is anyone's guess/hope.

"Superunknown"--Sneaky, those flourishes. The chorus is one large, "but wait, there's less!" One vocal track is for what is, the other for what might be.

"Head Down"--A pink zeppelin slices the sky. Surely drugs weren't involved!

Cementing their reps as the quirkiest of the Big 4, Soundgarden show us how to live inside sand castles. (Meanwhile I can't even build one.)

"Black Hole Sun"--Not everyone knows a Soundgarden song, but when they do, it's "Black Hole Sun." Trust me, this Carvel-certified slice of psych-pop owned rock radio in '94. Over twenty years gone by, it goes out as it came in, a litany for the sourly aging.

Good Mood Jenn prefers to think of "Black Hole Sun" as a fallen prince babbling over a chest of melted treasures. Bad Mood Jenn insists that the song is proof that oblivion is the only wish worthwhile, since it's impossible to screw up.

"Spoonman"--The fact they chose this as the first single makes me chuckle. It's an ode to an actual true and living Seattle street performer who plays the actual spoons. He even shows up for a barely-discernible cameo. "Save me!" From what, dude? You're a rich-ass rock star, and he plays the spoons.

"Limo Wreck"--I dig when the band exhibits their monstrous bulk. Those lead feet are gonna trigger a dreadful avalanche, I swear.

"The Day I Tried To Live"--Living life like a James M. Cain novel means: situations go grim and filthy sans fanfare. It means wearing spiked collars, incorrectly. It means grinning while uttering the most pessimistic sentence you can imagine.

"Kickstand"--Front dropkick, more like. Can't build a sand castle, can't ride a bike, what can I do?

"Fresh Tendrils"--An excuse for Chris Cornell to take his shirt off without taking it off. Superunknown is the greatest showcase for his powers as a singer, I don't give a damn for other thoughts.

"4th of July"--Where is everybody that started loving this sizzling piece of nihilistic pig when St. Vincent said she did? Come on, hands up.

Messrs. Cornell, Thayil, Shepherd and Cameron on doomsday. We are all of us dying. Punctuality is forgotten, since time has been forsaken. This is a top 10 Soundgarden song for me. Thank you to all the artists who dropped acid so I didn't have to.

"Half"--Say what you will about Hiro Yamamoto on the mic, least he didn't bore me. Least he didn't announce his painful self-doubt to the world by drowning his voice in effects

"Like Suicide"--For years I thought "Like Suicide" was another mildly lovely dirge for the never-named "she" featured in songs since the first rock rolled. Actually, it's about a bird that Chris Cornell had to mercy-kill after it smashed into a studio window. Since he never disclosed the breed of bird, I don't know how to feel. I mean, coulda been a blue jay. Can't expect me to be distraught over that.



End it at "4th of July," Superunknown is the best Soundgarden album. They didn't though, so…it's still the best Soundgarden album.