Narcissism: inordinate fascination with oneself. The term originates from the mythological figure Narcissus, a youth who one day stopped to take a drink from a spring, saw his own reflection and fell in love with himself. This self-love turned into self-obsession and ultimately brought about his death.
Enter Chris Cornell, one time frontman for Temple of the Dog, Soundgarden and Rage Garden, erm, Audioslave. While none of those bands really exhibited a Narcissus-esque personality, Cornell’s solo career confidently does. His first outing, 1999’s Euphoria Morning, found him trying to be Jeff Buckley. Hardly. Then came 2007’s Carry On, where Cornell attempted his best Sybil Dorsett impression instead of writing a coherent album or even a song. In either case, Cornell’s ego got in the way. Well, that and the lack of Matt Cameron.
Thus, we come to Cornell’s new offering, Scream. It would be one thing if Cornell and producer Timbaland used egocentric self-indulgence to further the songwriting. Pink Floyd did it for years. But it is indeed another matter when the songwriting is either lazier than the “peanut butter and jelly in the same jar” demographic or completely absent. If Timbaland’s production work in recent years wasn’t enough proof his ability has run out, then Scream should cast aside any lingering doubt. The production on this record isn’t even phoned in — Timbo didn’t even bother to dial.
As a result, the record is one giant, boundless void. The drums pointlessly stutter here and there on “Ground Zero” and “Long Gone,” while cheesy background synths clutter “Time” and “Get Up.” None of this, however, makes Scream matter. Instead, this is the sound of two artists trying to be relevant and failing disastrously.
The worst part is, of course, the between song segues. Generally, they don’t even last one minute and, therefore, can’t cause too much irritation. But between every single track?! Not only do they serve to break up any (minimal) amount of momentum that Scream had, but they also are beyond inane. Cornell stated in an interview with MTV he wanted to make a song cycle-type album “where the music never stops.” While noble, the goal is ridiculous nonetheless considering the songs themselves are shit. Why add to the pile?
Lyrically, Cornell makes Fred Durst seem like Bob Dylan. The opener “Part of Me” features the insightful chorus “That bitch ain’t a part of me” repeated over and over. The phrase just once is ridiculous, but when repeated, well, it’s simply genius. You’d think after that turd the album might have a chance to go uphill. Nope. From there, the album plummets like a rocket-sled to hell with lines like: “You’re like diamond, and I’m like glass/ Like oil and water we always clash” from “Long Gone.” It’d be impressive if Cornell wasn’t the one falling. Instead, it’s fucking depressing.
The most heartbreaking thing about Scream, then, is the fact Cornell and Timbaland are behind it. Soundgarden and TOTD were superb, and Timbaland’s work with Aaliyah and Missy was equally so. But now? Well, this album confirms that egocentrism alone doesn’t translate to tape. On the plus side, the album cover is pretty nifty.
1/2 stars out of 5.
