April 7, 1981. Evening. Cobo Arena, Detroit, Michigan.
"This is it, man!" James tapped Chris Cornell's shoulder.
"Yeah!" Chris Cornell replied with energy mixed with nervousness.
"It is all good, go give them hell!" James tap punched Chris Cornell's arms as Chris Cornell walked toward the stage along with the session band members and their guitars and drum sticks.
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By the time the lights dimmed, the arena was packed with over 10,000 Ozzy fans. The roar was deafening, half-drunk, wild, and restless. Most had never heard the name "Chris Cornell," and fewer still knew anything about a label called Sub Pop Inc. The few who did had maybe caught his name in local zines gossiped by friends or heard the buzz about the mysterious teenage powerhouse from Washington and some who heard a guy who had gotten a month long test slot on Ozzy Osbourne's tour.
But whatever the case, the spotlight appeared and it hit the stage.
There, Chris Cornell, in a tight black shirt and worn jeans, stepped to the mic.
"Detroit," he said, his voice calm but heavy, teenage deep voice than anyone expected from a 16 year old kid.
"I am Chris Cornell." he added, and then shouted "Let us light this up!" with a light scream and then the song "Flower" played. The haunting intro riff kicked in, slow and strange. The crowd, uncertain, swayed. As Chris Cornell's voice soared into that unmistakable wail, heads started turning. A ripple of interest. Some older fans leaned in. "Who the hell is this kid?" one fan who looked like a biker said out loud.
By the halfway point, people were nodding. They did not love it yet, but they were listening.
Backstage, one of Ozzy Osbourne's techs muttered, "He sounds older than he looks."
When "All Your Lies" came on next, the band roared into the track, and now the tempo picked up. The pit at the front started to stir. This one had bite, and Chris screamed the chorus like he was thirty, not sixteen. A few fists went in the air. A small group near the front shouted, "Fuck yeah!" as the solo tore through the air.
Sharon Osbourne, watched from the wings with her arms folded, raised an eyebrow. "He is not bad," she said to a nearby promoter.
Chris Cornell and the band played "665" and "Beyond the Wheel" next after. The dark, sludgy interlude of "665" transitioned into the powerful doom of "Beyond the Wheel." Now the crowd was feeling it. Chris Cornell's guttural howls echoed like a man possessed. The sound tech looked over at Ozzy Osbourne's FOH guy. "That voice, is this kid really 16?"
A few diehard Black Sabbath fans in the crowd nodded approvingly. One yelled, "This is heavy as hell!"
Chris Cornell and the band continued with minimal pause after that hardcore performance, they went fast with "Mood for Trouble". A shift in mood. Chris Cornell's delivery was looser, bluesier. It gave the crowd a moment to breathe, but it kept the vibe heavy and raw. Someone in the upper tier said, "He's got that soul, man." A couple of lighters flicked on within the crowd.
"Circle of Power" was played next. This one came in loud and chaotic, vocals screamed by one of the bandmates. The crowd was a little more confused here, less melodic, more punk sludge madness, but it kept their attention. One guy booed, but was drowned out by a headbanging row of teens two seats down.
"He Didn't" was played fast after some crowd work, then Chris Cornell took back the mic, and his haunting tone filled the venue again. Emotional and weirdly beautiful, the crowd started to settle into his rhythm. It was not Ozzy-style metal, but it was something real.
Then after that, came "Smokestack Lightning". This cover hit hard. The old blues riff, distorted into something grungy and mean, got older heads nodding. A roadie backstage grinned, "Kid's got taste."
When "Nazi Driver", the punk edge came back fast and vicious. The crowd reacted with mixed energy, some even went pushing forward in raw energy, others backing off at the harsh tone. But the pit was moving now. The energy was up within the crowd.
Then came "Head Injury". The band ripped into it like they had done a hundred times during rehearsals. The chorus punched the walls of the arena. Chris Cornell's voice soared. This was the moment where the crowd truly clicked in. People cheered. Hands went up.
In the wings, Ozzy Osbourne's guitarist leaned over to Sharon Osbourne. "He's got lungs for days."
Sharon Osbourne just replied with a smile and kept watching Chris Cornell and his band play.
When Chris Cornell said, "This is the last song for us tonight.", they quickly played "Incessant Mace". As a closer, this one crushed. Slow, foreboding, atmospheric. Chris Cornell's scream at the climax was raw and terrifying, in the best way.
The final chords rang out. Chris stepped forward again, sweat-soaked, face serious.
"Thanks, Detroit! This is our first big night. Hope you remember us!"
They walked offstage to a mixed but real response, cheers, some confused clapping, but also plenty of impressed shouts.
Backstage, Sharon Osbourne crossed her arms. "He did not bomb. We will keep him for now."
One of Ozzy Osbourne's stage managers added, "I have seen worse bands ten years older than him."
The Sub Pop Inc. staff exchanged relieved glances. James, sipping a juice box calmly, said, "We did it."
Joseph Kennedy Sr. nodded, as if it was all part of the plan.
And Chris Cornell? He just exhaled, wiped his face with a towel, and smiled for the first time that night.