I realize it’s unavoidable that certain folks will look to Chris Cornell’s lyrics to provide some clue as to why he took his own life, and for those searching for tidy conclusions, titles like “Let Me Drown,” “Pretty Noose,” “Fell on Black Days,” and, yes, wait for it, “Like Suicide” probably tell them everything they think they need. While I’d concur that the lyrics of such songs might provide a glimpse into his overarching sensibility, I’d also like to cite the concept of poetic license. Put simply, art – much like life -- is not always literal and linear. Just because someone invokes certain themes in their creative work, that doesn’t equate with espousal or confession. If it were that simple, certain favorite songwriters of mine, like Nick Cave and Michael Gira, would be permanently incarcerated and we’d be posthumuosly charging Bob Marley for shooting that poor sheriff.
I don’t pretend to comprehend the motivation that drives one to commit suicide, but I don’t believe it can be neatly explained. I’ve had conversations with peers who were struggling and even openly entertaining the prospect. I’ve also known people who suddenly took their own lives that had given no real, telling indication that anything was wrong. I don’t believe it’s easily grasped, nor is grappling with it an exact science. That’s not a cop-out, though. By no means am I suggesting that there’s nothing to learn or be done about it. Just don’t expect to have all your questions answered.
In this particular case, I think the strangest aspect is that Cornell was perceived, by all accounts, as both a proud, loving father and deeply insightful individual. As a father of comparable age, I cannot wrap my head around how he would have been able to do what he did without taking into consideration the irreparable damage it was going to do to his family. The theme from fuckin’ “M.A.S.H.” is complete bullshit – suicide is not painless. The indescribable hurt inflicted by Cornell’s decision on his wife and children is doubtlessly indelible, and it’s something they will carry with them for the rest of their days. I suppose that speaks to what I was alluding to in the previous paragraph – for Cornell to take this step, he must have been grappling with something that far exceeds simple explanation.
No matter how you try to sum it up, it’s terribly sad, but to chalk it up as a dead alt.rocker who wrote gloomy songs about death is a lazy, ignorant and unduly insulting disservice. Don’t do it.
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