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Alternative & Indie - Released December 11, 2020 | Interscope

Chris Cornell spent a portion of 2016 recording a covers album, assembling a ten-song sequence for a record that would be released at a later date. Cornell died in 2017, so the covers album wound up as No One Sings Like You Anymore, a record released in 2020 as a tribute to the departed singer. As posthumous albums go, No One Sings Like You Anymore may not bear any great revelations, yet it's an effective, even moving, testament to his skills as a singer and musician. Cornell does revisit several quite familiar tunes -- classic rock staples from Harry Nilsson ("Jump into the Fire"), John Lennon ("Watching the Wheels"), Electric Light Orchestra ("Showdown"), and Guns N' Roses ("Patience") anchor the album -- but he also digs up Terry Reid's "To Be Treated Right," adds a selection from Austin's electronica act Ghostland Observatory, and cuts three songs from the Jerry Ragovoy songbook, including "Get It While You Can" and "Stay with Me Baby." Collected, the songs are simultaneously familiar and surprising -- a blend that always was among the chief attractions in Cornell's work -- and while there are echoes of the original recordings here, he shapes each tune to fit his voice and contemplative bent. The inherent power in Cornell's voice can still be heard, but what lasts is the passion and intelligence, emotions that make this a bracing if bittersweet experience. © Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo
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Rock - Released November 16, 2018 | A&M

Nearly a year-and-a-half after Chris Cornell's death, a career-spanning retrospective collection captured the breadth of his varied career as a solo artist and vocalist of Soundgarden, Audioslave, and Temple of the Dog. That massive vinyl box set was pared down into a tight greatest hits simply titled Chris Cornell. Arranged in chronological order as a highlight reel of his iconic career, this self-titled compilation offers a bittersweet reminder of just how much Cornell accomplished in roughly 30 years on the scene, from a '90s Seattle grunge icon to a fearless late-era singer/songwriter. Front-loaded with his mainstream alt-rock touchstones, Chris Cornell starts close to the beginning with "Loud Love" from Soundgarden's 1989 sophomore effort, Louder Than Love. While his signature vocal delivery was still in its nascent stage, hints of his inimitable howl can be heard percolating beneath the towering, metal-influenced attack of his bandmates. Yet once "Outshined" (from 1991's Badmotorfinger) kicks in, the power of Cornell's growls and wails are properly cemented. From here, it's a play-by-play of all of his major eras. Temple of the Dog's singular 1991 hit, "Hunger Strike," is paired with a soaring rendition of that band's "Call Me a Dog," which was recorded in 2011 for Cornell's live album, Songbook. Respectfully, the collection doesn't lean too much upon his time with Soundgarden: aside from 1994's Grammy-winning classic "Black Hole Sun" and 2012's swan song "Been Away Too Long," debut Ultramega OK and 1996's platinum-certified Down on the Upside are ignored. A pair of Audioslave's early-2000s alternative chart-toppers -- which have aged well in retrospect -- also appear, but the collection mostly sticks to his solo work. From his first solo song ("Seasons" from 1992's Singles soundtrack) to his very last recordings, these offerings are the true attractions on Chris Cornell. Additional soundtrack selections include his 2006 Bond theme, "You Know My Name," and the Grammy-nominated 2017 single from the film of the same name, "The Promise." Each of his albums is granted at least one inclusion, even 2009's oft-misunderstood collaboration with Timbaland, Scream, whose "Long Gone" is featured here as a "rock version" stripped of the hip-hop producer's signature sound. In addition to that deep cut, other highlights include a searing cover of Michael Jackson's "Billie Jean" (from 2007's Carry On); the folksy plucking of "Nearly Forgot My Broken Heart" (from his fourth and final solo album, 2015's Higher Truth); and a heartbreaking acoustic cover of "Nothing Compares 2 U," which delivers the biggest gut punch on the album. The grand finale, previously unreleased song "When Bad Does Good," is a mournful dirge wherein Cornell sings with a weary rasp, "Standing beside an open grave/Your fate decided, your life erased." It's an all-too-real end to the collection, both cathartic for mourners and an unfair taunt to those still processing this heavy loss. Chris Cornell is a reverential capstone that charts the tortured artist's highs and lows, providing an ideal first step for anyone wishing to dive deeper into the impressive catalog of one of rock's loudest and most emotive voices. © Neil Z. Yeung /TiVo
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Rock - Released January 1, 2011 | A&M

After spending over a decade avoiding his past, Chris Cornell reconnected with it in a big way during 2010. First, he reunited with Soundgarden, their tour so successful it spilled over into a studio collaboration interrupted by Cornell launching an acoustic tour where he revisited his catalog, quite definitively tying his solo career and time with Audioslave to Soundgarden. Songbook is a live album culled from this tour and has Cornell sampling from all phases of his career, often spinning harder-rocking songs into moody reflective territory. Unlike his solo debut, Euphoria Morning, this never sounds solipsistic; Cornell is engaged, looking outward to the audience, giving subtly forceful performances that often rescue overlooked tunes -- including selections from his electronica makeover Scream -- and freshen up familiar songs, including covers of Led Zeppelin’s “Thank You” and John Lennon’s “Imagine.” He sounds at peace with his past and comfortable with his present, and that casual assurance makes Songbook his best solo offering to date. © Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo
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Rock - Released September 18, 2015 | A&M

Chris Cornell flew toward the sun with 2009's Scream but he got burned. The Timbaland-produced album marked a sudden shift toward electronic pop, a move that did not sit well with either critics or Cornell's audience, but he didn't react swiftly to the derision. He moved slowly, revisiting his catalog on 2011's Songbook and then reuniting with Soundgarden before releasing Higher Truth some six years after Scream. Hiring producer Brendan O'Brien, a fellow veteran of the grunge wars of the '90s, suggests Cornell is backpedaling from the chilly electro surfaces of his last solo album, but Higher Truth isn't quite a retreat. Cornell possess an easy, quiet confidence throughout this handsome, burnished record, an album that occasionally recalls the breaking twilight of Euphoria Mourning but feels warmer and looser than that 1999 solo debut. Despite the ornate accouterments of the opener "Nearly Forgot My Broken Heart" -- a pop single so stately it's almost Baroque -- Higher Truth isn't especially dramatic. O'Brien favors subtle shading over bombast, so even when the tracks are built up with pianos, strings, harmonies, and fuzz guitars, it feels intimate, almost acoustic. This illusion persists because there are a fair share of spare, delicate solo numbers here, interwoven among those bolder but still quiet pop tunes. While Higher Truth never seems as self-consciously confessional as Euphoria Mourning, this mellow simplicity is an attribute: a relaxed Cornell creates a comforting mood piece that's enveloping in its warmth. © Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo
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Alternative & Indie - Released January 1, 2007 | Interscope

Chris Cornell's first solo album, Euphoria Morning, was released just after Cornell had shaken the shackles of Soundgarden and he was making a definitive break from their heavy heavy sound by indulging in bucolic singer/songwriter clichés. It went nowhere commercially but led him toward Audioslave, where he spent three albums pushing and pulling against the core of Rage Against the Machine. If Euphoria Morning was breaking from the past, Carry On is about reconnecting to it, returning Cornell to music that feels more comfortable than Tom Morello's staccato riffs. Right from the beginning, he pushes out arena-filling riffs that feel more at home on a Soundgarden record -- not as heavy and certainly not as tortured, but something more mature and more recognizably of Cornell's lineage than much of Audioslave. It sets the stage for a record that's seems like a rare hard rock maturation, but soon Cornell returns to the singer/songwriter mannerisms that seemed appropriate on his first debut -- he was stretching his legs after Soundgarden, after all -- but now feel anemic, particularly because they're executed with quivering sensitivity and a near belligerent tunelessness. These are the songs that feel forced -- as affected as his coffeehouse cover of "Billie Jean" -- but when Cornell loosens up and gives the music backbone (and a backbeat), he not only comes alive as a performer but the writing is sharper and better, pointing a way toward an artistic middle age that's richer and more compelling than what's heard on the bulk of Carry On. © Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo
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Rock - Released September 21, 1999 | A&M

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Alternative & Indie - Released July 20, 2020 | Interscope

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Pop - Released January 1, 1999 | A&M

With Down on the Upside, it was clear that Soundgarden, while still strong, was no longer the ideal vehicle for its frontman Chris Cornell. He sounded much more comfortable on Superunknown, the first Soundgarden album that broke free from the Sab-Zep restraints, allowing him to indulge in psychedelia. That, along with his stellar contribution to the Singles soundtrack, suggested that Cornell had aspirations of being a singer/songwriter, so it's not a surprise at all that he decided to tie those two loose ends together to provide the foundation for his solo debut album, Euphoria Morning. Those expecting a slab of metal from Euphoria Morning will be disappointed, but it's hard to feel sorry for them, since they were evidently not really listening to the last few Soundgarden records. There's no question that it's a rock album, but it's a shaded, textured rock album, lacking the grinding sludge and furious rock that were his previous band's stock-in-trade, yet it's undeniably of a piece with Superunknown. Thankfully, Euphoria Morning doesn't have the shiny arena rock gloss that Michael Beinhorn gave Soundgarden's masterpiece. True, it is a clean, big production, but it's organic, which means that it doesn't sound unnatural when Cornell dives into blues ("When I'm Down") or when he suggests Radiohead with the beginning of "Preaching the End of the World." That kind of flexibility is what was missing from Down on the Upside, and it keeps Euphoria Morning fascinating, since it's unclear what's coming next, even if it all sounds of a piece. It's a mature album without being overly somber. It could be argued that it sounds a little too mature and possibly a little self-conscious, but that just emphasizes the real craft behind Euphoria Morning. Cornell knew exactly where he wanted to go as a solo artist, and he's achieved it. If it doesn't satisfy some dyed-in-the-wool Soundgarden fans, that's too bad, since it will undoubtedly win the affections of open-minded listeners who haven't before considered him a serious songwriter or musician. © Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo
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CDkr177.59

Pop - Released January 1, 2008 | Mosley - Interscope

In case you didn't catch the symbolism, Chris Cornell is smashing a guitar on the cover of Scream because he's done with those six-strings -- he's leaving it all behind for Timbaland, who has long wanted to leave hip-hop and R&B behind to make a rock album. If this seems like the pair are working at cross-purposes to achieve the same goal, that's as accurate an assumption as the guess that the two are abandoning their strengths, even their sense of self, in a bizarre shared middle-age crisis. Scream is one of those rare big-budget disasters, an exercise in misguided ambition that makes no sense outside of pure theory. As an idea, this rock-dance fusion isn't without merit; clearly, Cornell needs to do something to shake himself out of his solo stupor and Timbaland is an imaginative, daring producer whose gifts are not limited by genre, but this isn't a collaboration, it's a car collision. As much as they want to stretch, neither Cornell nor Timbaland are willing to leave their comfort zone or -- perhaps more accurately -- are able to leave the familiar behind. Timbaland's productions never approach rock in sound or form but to be fair, his tracks are often augmented by additional production by anyone from Justin Timberlake to OneRepublic's Ryan Tedder, who brings his contributions as close to anonymous radio fodder as he possibly can. Whoever was directly responsible, Scream winds up sounding like skittering, generic dance-pop, the kind of thing that Timbaland contributes for a high price to a Pussycat Dolls album, only graced by Cornell's caterwaul, sometimes looped, sometimes manipulated by Auto-Tune because that's what you do with a pop album in 2009. Cornell's growl clashes against the cold, clinking rhythm tracks -- not in a challenging way, just in a jarring one, drawing attention to the chasm between the two collaborators. Then again, Scream never seems like a collaboration, it seems like it was assembled by committee, discussed in boardrooms, farmed out to contract players and stitched together on computer. This might make for a mess, but Scream does have one advantage of Chris Cornell's other solo albums: as bad as it is, it is never, ever boring. © Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo
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Rock - Released December 4, 2006 | Interscope

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CDkr177.59

Pop - Released March 9, 2009 | Mosley - Interscope

In case you didn't catch the symbolism, Chris Cornell is smashing a guitar on the cover of Scream because he's done with those six-strings -- he's leaving it all behind for Timbaland, who has long wanted to leave hip-hop and R&B behind to make a rock album. If this seems like the pair are working at cross-purposes to achieve the same goal, that's as accurate an assumption as the guess that the two are abandoning their strengths, even their sense of self, in a bizarre shared middle-age crisis. Scream is one of those rare big-budget disasters, an exercise in misguided ambition that makes no sense outside of pure theory. As an idea, this rock-dance fusion isn't without merit; clearly, Cornell needs to do something to shake himself out of his solo stupor and Timbaland is an imaginative, daring producer whose gifts are not limited by genre, but this isn't a collaboration, it's a car collision. As much as they want to stretch, neither Cornell nor Timbaland are willing to leave their comfort zone or -- perhaps more accurately -- are able to leave the familiar behind. Timbaland's productions never approach rock in sound or form but to be fair, his tracks are often augmented by additional production by anyone from Justin Timberlake to OneRepublic's Ryan Tedder, who brings his contributions as close to anonymous radio fodder as he possibly can. Whoever was directly responsible, Scream winds up sounding like skittering, generic dance-pop, the kind of thing that Timbaland contributes for a high price to a Pussycat Dolls album, only graced by Cornell's caterwaul, sometimes looped, sometimes manipulated by Auto-Tune because that's what you do with a pop album in 2009. Cornell's growl clashes against the cold, clinking rhythm tracks -- not in a challenging way, just in a jarring one, drawing attention to the chasm between the two collaborators. Then again, Scream never seems like a collaboration, it seems like it was assembled by committee, discussed in boardrooms, farmed out to contract players and stitched together on computer. This might make for a mess, but Scream does have one advantage of Chris Cornell's other solo albums: as bad as it is, it is never, ever boring. © Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo
From
CDkr177.59

Rock - Released November 16, 2018 | A&M

Nearly a year-and-a-half after Chris Cornell's death, a career-spanning retrospective collection captured the breadth of his varied career as a solo artist and vocalist of Soundgarden, Audioslave, and Temple of the Dog. That massive vinyl box set was pared down into a tight greatest hits simply titled Chris Cornell. Arranged in chronological order as a highlight reel of his iconic career, this self-titled compilation offers a bittersweet reminder of just how much Cornell accomplished in roughly 30 years on the scene, from a '90s Seattle grunge icon to a fearless late-era singer/songwriter. Front-loaded with his mainstream alt-rock touchstones, Chris Cornell starts close to the beginning with "Loud Love" from Soundgarden's 1989 sophomore effort, Louder Than Love. While his signature vocal delivery was still in its nascent stage, hints of his inimitable howl can be heard percolating beneath the towering, metal-influenced attack of his bandmates. Yet once "Outshined" (from 1991's Badmotorfinger) kicks in, the power of Cornell's growls and wails are properly cemented. From here, it's a play-by-play of all of his major eras. Temple of the Dog's singular 1991 hit, "Hunger Strike," is paired with a soaring rendition of that band's "Call Me a Dog," which was recorded in 2011 for Cornell's live album, Songbook. Respectfully, the collection doesn't lean too much upon his time with Soundgarden: aside from 1994's Grammy-winning classic "Black Hole Sun" and 2012's swan song "Been Away Too Long," debut Ultramega OK and 1996's platinum-certified Down on the Upside are ignored. A pair of Audioslave's early-2000s alternative chart-toppers -- which have aged well in retrospect -- also appear, but the collection mostly sticks to his solo work. From his first solo song ("Seasons" from 1992's Singles soundtrack) to his very last recordings, these offerings are the true attractions on Chris Cornell. Additional soundtrack selections include his 2006 Bond theme, "You Know My Name," and the Grammy-nominated 2017 single from the film of the same name, "The Promise." Each of his albums is granted at least one inclusion, even 2009's oft-misunderstood collaboration with Timbaland, Scream, whose "Long Gone" is featured here as a "rock version" stripped of the hip-hop producer's signature sound. In addition to that deep cut, other highlights include a searing cover of Michael Jackson's "Billie Jean" (from 2007's Carry On); the folksy plucking of "Nearly Forgot My Broken Heart" (from his fourth and final solo album, 2015's Higher Truth); and a heartbreaking acoustic cover of "Nothing Compares 2 U," which delivers the biggest gut punch on the album. The grand finale, previously unreleased song "When Bad Does Good," is a mournful dirge wherein Cornell sings with a weary rasp, "Standing beside an open grave/Your fate decided, your life erased." It's an all-too-real end to the collection, both cathartic for mourners and an unfair taunt to those still processing this heavy loss. Chris Cornell is a reverential capstone that charts the tortured artist's highs and lows, providing an ideal first step for anyone wishing to dive deeper into the impressive catalog of one of rock's loudest and most emotive voices. © Neil Z. Yeung /TiVo
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Pop - Released January 1, 2009 | HIP-O (Geffen AM)

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Alternative & Indie - Released May 21, 2007 | Interscope

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Alternative & Indie - Released January 1, 2007 | Interscope

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Pop - Released January 1, 2009 | Mosley - Interscope

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Rock - Released April 10, 2017 | Chris Cornell

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CDkr177.59

Pop - Released January 1, 2009 | Mosley - Interscope