The first time I heard this one, I was mad at Soundgarden for wasting a potentially awesome song.
I was 16, and my main interests were listening to loud music, playing the guitar, and owning band t-shirts. This song made me mad because part of my musical philosophy at the time was that every great song needed to be built around a huge, face-melting guitar solo. Stairway to Heaven. Purple Haze. November Rain. Say It Ain’t So. Any song worth listening to featured a giant guitar solo, a riff that roared like a lion, or both.
So when Soundgarden released Down on the Upside, I was just as excited as most 16-year-olds. Their previous album, Superunknown, had been borderline life-changing for me. Here was a whole new record filled with more potential Black Hole Suns and Spoonmen, just waiting to blow my mind.
Although it wasn’t mind-blowing, the album (which would be their last, unless you count the mandatory 21st- century comeback) was pretty good. Less riff-heavy than I had expected, but I liked it. Except the very last song, an odd little blip called “Boot Camp”. That one bugged me.
I didn’t get it. It felt like a throwaway, a song that should have been an 8-minute epic with multiple sections and, of course, a huge face-melting guitar solo. As the CD came to a stop in my Discman, I hung my head, looked down at my ripped jeans, and wondered whether all my assumptions about what makes a great song were misguided.
What makes this a beautiful song:
1. The opening guitar. If the riff from a song like “Spoonman” is a roaring lion, this riff is a mouse sneaking cheese behind the lion’s back.
2. Underneath the opening riff, you can just make out some indistinct chatter. Apparently, the amplifier Chris Cornell was using was a cheap one, and, as often happens with cheap amps, it was picking up a radio signal while Cornell played it.
3. As the song hits two minutes, it starts to open up, with Cornell musing that “There must be something else/There must be something good/Far away from here”. This is the point at which I thought the face-melting guitar would emerge. But it never comes. Instead, Cornell sings that although there’s something exciting far away from here, “…I’ll be here for good.” An interesting and heartbreaking way to end Soundgarden’s triumphant march through rock and roll in the 1990s.
Recommended listening activity:
Making a list of foods you didn’t like when you were a kid, and giving one of them a second chance.