Remembering Chris Cornell ...

Today I was going to write a post about the fun Moods Of Norway party for Syttende Mai last night ... but then I woke up and heard the news that Chris Cornell was found dead. Right now I'm listening to all the Chris Cornell songs that I've loved over the years, and really can't wrap my head around that jarring news ... that we had lost this musical legend to suicide last night in Detroit. No. I just can't believe it. Right now he's singing a cover of Dolly Parton's "I Will Always Love You" ... and he's right. We will.

I loved Chris Cornell from the first time I heard his majestic voice singing with Soundgarden (the best band name ever) on a bootleg of Ultramega OK. Then came Louder Than Love, and then I saw what he looked like, and I was done. Madly in love. When Badmotorfinger came out and I heard "Outshined" and its perfect lyric, "I'm looking California, and feeling Minnesota", I thought sure the man was singing directly to me. I finally got to see Cornell sing live at Lollapalooza in 1992, and it nearly ruined me. I was crazy about him ... like friends would give me special magazines with him on the cover for my birthday. It was a well known crush.

I worked on the movie Feeling Minnesota that shot in Minnesota and starred Keanu Reeves, and I wore my Carhartt crew jacket with that logo around for years because it had that Soundgarden connection to it. I was a dork about Chris Cornell, ok? I remember hearing that when he cut off his trademark long curls, he had sent them in an envelope to his wife at the time, Susan Silver. I thought it was the most romantic thing ever, and loved him even more.

Then it came time to make the move, and both look and feel California. I made the move to Los Angeles, to go after my own dreams. I saw Soundgarden's last show at Universal Amphitheater (gone now too), touring for Down On The Upside, and it was transcendent. We couldn't believe they were breaking up when they were so awesome. Cornell then went solo, and his first solo album Euphoria Morning meant the world to me. My brother, Paul and I went to see his solo show at The Wiltern, and a kind security guy saw the adoration on my face, and escorted us down to two empty seats in like the third row. At one point, during a solo version of "Black Hole Sun" (one of my all time favorite songs ever), Cornell pointed right at Paul and I, and I think we both actually swooned. He was one of the guys that other guys wanted to be, and girls just wanted. It was a moment we both still remember.

Time marched on, friendships were made, and my world grew. I became friends with Tom Morello from Rage Against The Machine, and then Rage also broke up. Then one day Tom told me that they were forming a new band called Audioslave with Chris Cornell as the singer! No. WAY! I got an advance copy, unmixed and raw, of the self-titled Audioslave album, and I'm pretty much still sore from the dance party rager we had in Venice when we blasted that thing for the first time. The helicopter opening of "Cochise" and Cornell's vocals coming in ... it was POWERFUL. It was EXCITING. It was the best.

We saw many Audioslave shows, from out on Hollywood Boulevard in front of the Jimmy Kimmel show to the Long Beach Arena, all excellent and the best times ever. I was always way too timid about approaching Cornell, thinking I wouldn't hold it together, because it was CHRIS CORNELL. Tom had a party at his house one day and I was in the kitchen putting some dip in the oven, and was bent over with my butt out. Someone walked behind me and said, "Excuse me", and I turned around to see Chris Cornell smiling. He said, "Hi, I'm Chris" ... and I don't even think I even said anything back, maybe "Hi" - I was definitely fazed. By this time, he had a new French wife, and she was there too, so that was pretty much that, I never got to really flirt. I remember being disappointed that he was (always) wearing a Van Dutch tank top ... it just didn't seem like a thing for a grunge icon to wear, you know? Especially all the time. That, and his second solo album, seemed just cheesy. I never thought I'd think that! He'd lost a little of his luster to me, but he was still Chris Cornell, with the Stradivarius of all rock voices.

Then one day, Cornell left Audioslave, never even telling them why. After praising Tom as "his angel that had saved him" from the stage during a show. After a historic show in Cuba. No warning, just gone. That tainted him further for me, as Tom was a good friend, and I felt deserved better than that. I went on tour with Tom for his solo "Justice Tour" as The Nightwatchman. Cornell's ex-wife, Susan, was along on the tour, as one of the only other women along. I got a nearly fatal spider bite in New Orleans, and by the time I dealt with it in Boston, it was really bad. Susan was there for me. She was and is a wonderful, exceptional woman, and I couldn't believe how cold Cornell now appeared to be toward her and their daughter, Lily. I remember - especially today - how I stood next to Susan as Shooter Jennings sang the Cornell lyrics on Audioslave's "I Am The Highway", and tears filled her eyes. I felt her pain that day, and I feel it again today. Susan returned my email of deepest sympathy today, saying, "It is the words of kindness and support that get us through this darkest hour." That is always true ... It's just such an incredible loss - and once again, so unnecessary. No one knows what someone is going through inside, and it's so important just to love everyone WHILE we have them ... not in retrospect.

I saw Soundgarden at The Wiltern in 2013 with Perry Farrell and his wife, Etty. By now, I'd been on tour with Jane's Addiction the previous Summer, and had become good friends with the Farrells. Perry knew that Etty and I LOVED some Chris Cornell, and hooked it up, even though they didn't seem to be particularly close. There had long been rumors that "Jesus Christ Pose" was about Perry (in that one famous picture posing on a bed), and that didn't really sit well. We entered The Wiltern in a cool VIP way that you drive under the theater and park below. We had seats in the balcony, and the show was great, of course, but there seemed to be a little lounge act schtick in Cornell's stage banter. It was hard to have thoughts of him that were anything less than adulatory, but ... we left early. I regret that today, for sure. (The show was filmed for The Artist's Den, so I did see it all back home).

I last saw Chris Cornell singing on stage this past January at the Anti-Inaugural Ball thrown by the Prophets Of Rage on Inauguration Day. He was a special surprise guest, and when he came out to the opening chords of "Cochise" ... the place literally went crazy. I went crazy.

It looked as though all had been forgiven, and all the Audioslave guys were together on stage again, hugging, smiling, and most importantly ROCKING. It seemed like Cornell had found a new peace, with his wife and children, and even Soundgarden back together and touring again. Then last night he ended the Soundgarden show in Detroit with a song not on the set list, a cover of Zeppelin's "In My Time Of Dying". It looks like this was a planned exit ... that no one can even begin to understand or believe. It's too awful. It's too massive. It's simply heartbreaking.

There have been some massive losses in music in recent times, and I cried this morning when I heard the cover of Cornell singing Prince's "Nothing Compares 2 U". Nothing will ever compare to either of these musical angels.

Thank you for your life and music, Chris. You and your songs will never be forgotten. I'm so sorry for your pain. Rock in Peace.

We Can Be Heroes Forever And Ever

2016 has seen the loss of some real, real cool people already. Instead of feeling the optimism and hope of a new year, it has really felt pretty sad so far (It may also have something to do with the gnarly cold I've had all year so far, but still). First, the loss of Mötorhead's Lemmy Kilmister - everyone's favorite rocker/party animal/great guy/legend from the dread awful cancer, saddening the whole world of rock and roll ... and then ... THEN ... David Bowie. Cancer again. Gone. I didn't even know how sad that would make me until I heard the news late Sunday night and tears involuntarily rolled down my face.

I never got to see David Bowie live, and that's a regret I'll always have, but he sure was a big part of my growing up. He was all over MTV in the 80's, and we all knew from a very young age that Bowie was something special. That he didn't give a dang what anyone thought of him, and neither should we. That you could express yourself in the most wild, outlandish fashion with ideas fresh from a dream that might not make sense to anyone else, and still be all the cooler for it. Now everyone has to step up and be cooler, be kinder ... because an awful lot of cool was just deleted, and we've all got to make up for it.

Artist Jules Muck painted a great mural on the side of Timewarp Records on Venice Boulevard of both Lemmy and Bowie, creating an instant memorial for fans to show their respect. The Townhouse hosted an all David Bowie listening/dancing party last night, so that everyone feeling all these feelings would have somewhere to go to share them. Bowie's hometown of Brixton in the U.K. had a spontaneous singalong of hundreds of people coming together to joyously sing "Starman" to celebrate the fact that we ever got to have such a presence among us in our lifetime. That sounds grandiose, but when you see every single social media feed showing nothing but Bowie, and just know that everyone around the entire globe was spinning Bowie records ... it IS pretty huge.

What a way to be remembered. And reminded ... that absolutely every single one of us can be Heroes. And should be.

Forever and ever.

*Mural photo courtesy of Miss Jessica Long

Nick Fouquet Hat Company - Venice's Mad Hatter

When you see someone walking around Venice (or anywhere in the world now, really) with an extra cool hat on ... chances are it's a Nick Fouquet chapeau. His hat business is blowing up these days, as everyone from hard-working 9-5-ers to rock stars are knocking on the door of Fouquet's Abbot Kinney workshop to get their own "soul mate" of a hat.

Pharrell sported a Fouquet creation at the Grammys (not the big cartoony one, the other cool one he wore while performing). Madonna wore one recently. More importantly, people you know around Venice are wearing them ... and if they're not yet, they want one.

After working with his partner Greg Westbrook at Westbrook Maker, Fouquet went out on his own last year to put his stylish stamp on the craftsmanship that has remained the same for centuries of hat making. The work is a bit less western cowboy style now, with more a far more bohemian flair ... very Venice.

The Nick Fouquet Hat Company is now located in the Left House on Abbot Kinney, sharing the space with Kapital, Another Kind Of Sunrise, Howl, etc... It's a warm, homey workshop in the back space, watched over by Fouquet's sweet little dog, Luca.

Fouquet meets with clients to create their vision of what a perfect hat for them would be. Because it's such a custom experience, it's an investment (base prices range from $400 - $800), but one that will become a treasured heirloom, meant to be passed along for generations.

"It's a very personal process," says Fouquet, "You get to know the person, and then It's ALL about the details." Meaning once you measure the client's head and that technical part is done, it's about collaborating together to create a hat that expresses that individual's personal aesthetic.

That could mean trinkets from your life incorporated into your hat, like a key or a charm you love. Or trimmed with fabric from your Dad's favorite tie. Or lined in tie-dye because you're a hippie at heart. Fuschia leather. Paisley fabric. An antique pin. Whatever is unexpected and breaking idea barriers is the order of the day here. There are no rules, other than finding out what you will love and then bringing it to life.

When you know Fouquet, it all makes sense. He describes his own style as "Keith Richards meets a Japanese warrior meets a country club guy in France," and as eclectic as that sounds, he somehow makes it all come together to where you kind of want to copy him. But you can't, because he's him, and you're you, and that's the point. Making something awesome to wear around that reflects who YOU uniquely are. And in this increasingly homogenized world, we can always use (way) more of that.

A Fouquet hat is so one of a kind, he couldn't even re-create the exact same one again for you. He could come close, but the point is that each one is its own work of art, never to be repeated. They're meant to LIVE in - travel, fish, hit the beach, work all day in the sun or strut the red carpet in. Because it's all about you, it works wherever you want to wear it.

Though heads are sporting Nick Fouquet hats all over Venice, it's an increasingly international sensation that has your custom hat taking (as of this writing) 4-6 weeks to be delivered, once you've completed the vision process.

"Venice is a part of me ... I love it. I want my hats to be from here," said Fouquet as we sat talking on the front steps of the Left House in the warm winter sunshine. Though high-end publications like Vogue and all the celebrity stylists that read it are flocking to Fouquet's workshop to style out their clients, it still retains a very laid back, beach town atmosphere, as mutual friends come by and wave and pet the dog and shout out how they too want a hat. Once you've seen one, and how they're so lovingly hand-crafted ... you'll want one of your own.

Get yours. CREATE yours. And as Fouquet likes to say, "Keep on keeping on!"

Nick Fouquet Hat Co.
1629 Abbot Kinney Blvd. (in the back of Left House)
(424) 238.8382
Workshop hours: 11 am - 7 pm