This one has hit hard. Chris Cornell's music has meant so much to me over the years.
An old girlfriend introduced me to Soundgarden at a time when big-hair and pink guitars held sway. They were a reminder that I'd first been drawn to rock by its dark intensity. Crue and Ratt began to look lightweight and disposable in comparison. Nirvana had nothing to do with it: they were just another miserable Indie band; all cardigans and NME hype.
Later, I had Chris Cornell's Euphoria Mourning (or 'Morning' as it was back then) on Minidisc and would hit the park, suitably mood-enhanced, headphones on, sun on my face, and marvel at the beauty of the man's music. Over and over again. Elliott Smith's Either/Or was the only other disc that got a look in.
Euphoria Morning and the Audioslave debut soundtracked the start of my relationship with Mrs Shelf-Stacker. We were never going to agree on Iron Maiden, but Chris Cornell's voice was something else entirely.
Chris Cornell (1964 - 2017)