From the opening bell, the mood of both discs is surprisingly misty and introspective. This is much to Iggy's detriment and Cornell's advantage. Mr. Pop is most known for his out-of-body, rolling-in-broken-glass-and-peanut-butter stage presence. Iggy's raw-powered act officially ended the '60s and influenced artists from David Bowie to the Sex Pistols with songs like "No Fun," "I Wanna Be Your Dog" and "Lust for Life." At his best, Iggy would rather rip his heart out of his chest than wear it on his sleeve. Tragically, on Avenue B, he's traded in his rock'n'roll soul for a rocking chair. Iggy's always had a sensitive side, but had the good sense to only let it show on one or two songs per album. Avenue B is a somber mix of spoken words and sparsely instrumented songs of loneliness and regret that only occasionally hint at their adrenaline-addicted author, the madman who spends as much time diving into his crowd as he does singing to it. On Avenue B's opening cut, Pop states as a matter of fact that "I didn't want to take any more shit from anybody." You could never tell from the lugubrious grooves that make up the majority of Avenue B.

Chris Cornell

Cornell's CD isn't much more energetic, but then he's never been a real firecracker of a performer to begin with. Even at the height of his megaplatinum success with Soundgarden, Cornell preferred to keep his distance from the edge of the stage, preferring to bask in the glow of a Black Hole Sun. The group may have been Louder Than Love, but Cornell always kept his volume smoldering inside him. Now with a less musclebound band backing him up, Cornell is free to explore his own production ideas and make optimum use of up to the millisecond recording technology and vintage '60s guitars, amps, wah-wahs and whammy pedals. Songs like "Wave Good-bye," "When I'm Down" and "Can't Change Me" are Beatle-esque in their textures and subtlety yet don't come off derivative, dated or uninspired. Lenny Kravitz could learn a lesson or three here and Iggy, turn up your hearing aid, this is important!

Lyrically, Cornell again takes the lead with his twelve tapestries of highly personal, but not self-pitying nature. Here's where Eddie Veddar should lend an ear and learn the difference between passion and posturing. Cornell's bio quotes him as saying, "If I wrote a line then questioned it, do I really want people to hear me say that? Is that too personal? That moment of fear meant I should keep it." It's that dedication to honesty and the artistic process that makes Euphoria Morning time well spent.

By contrast, Avenue B is hardly illiterate, but it does come off a bit repetitive and shock-value oriented. Song after song are about a girl who either left Iggy as in "Felt the Luxury" or whom he pushed away even though "She Called Me Daddy." When he runs out of plot twists in his same old songs, Pop tries to inject energy with a line about a Nazi Girlfriend and how he "fucked her on the floor among my books of ancient lore" or a certain Miss Argentina's talent for "dripping blood with lots of style." As easy targets as these may be, both are preferable to Iggy's one-minute opus "Afraid To Get Close" which is about his cat of all things. Not that I'm anti cat mind you, but damn Iggy, you can do better than this.

Vocally is where the two artists come closest. Both Iggy and Chris have deep, bottomless voices that are tailor-suited to their respective styles. Whereas Cornell's range actually falls closer to that of a tenor, Iggy has always had a profound basso that's become only more resonant as he enters his fifth decade of life. David Bowie, Iggy's longtime friend and former producer/keyboardist/svengalli, must be thrilled with the way his friend "Jimmy's" mellow croon has developed. This is a feat made all the more amazing considering the strain his live performances and lifestyle could have taken on Iggy's half-century-old vocal chords. Though his delivery can be a bit deadpan if this whole punk rock thing doesn't pan out, Pop can always get a little lounge act together and move to Las Vegas or Lake Tahoe. Hey, Wayne Newton can't go on forever, or can he?

Cornell too is no slouch when it comes to hitting the low notes and it's frightening to consider how much better he's going to get as he continues to refine his skills. Mr. Euphoria's Velveeta smooth vocals prove he's well on his way to being a master of his Kraft. Bluesy, soulful or steeped in old time R&B, Cornell's stylings come off easily and with genuine feeling. If sincerity is the hardest thing to fake, then Chris should have an easy time on the long, winding gold-paved road stretched out ahead of him.

So the winner in our epic battle of the baritones, by all rights and unanimous decision is Chris Cornell, whose Euphoria Morning takes all when it comes to mood, grooves, talent and attitude. Never having been a fan of Soundgarden, I seriously expected things to go the other way when both discs arrived to wage war in my CD changer. But there was no denying the goateed kid from Seattle and his solid collection of real material.

"I'm the only thing I really have," Cornell sings on "Can't Change Me," the album's leadoff track and first video. Chris may only have himself, but there's enough talent there for at least two people.

October 1999