Jack Black Joins James Hetfield in a Powerful Chris Cornell Tribute at The Forum

The Forum in Los Angeles was filled for “I Am the Highway: A Tribute to Chris Cornell,” an all-star memorial that brought together peers, friends, and admirers of the late singer. Organized with Cornell’s family, the night became a sprawling celebration of his music and influence, anchored by moments that were both intimate and thunderous.

Across nearly five hours and forty-plus songs, the program moved from grunge to classic rock to pop and back again, threading Cornell’s catalog through a broad spectrum of voices. It was an endurance concert in the best sense: generous, communal, and stacked with surprise pairings that kept the arena leaning forward for the next left turn.

One of those left turns arrived when Jack Black strode onstage to introduce Metallica. He didn’t just read a cue card; he riffed about Cornell’s otherworldly range, joking that certain notes seemed to open portals between dimensions. It was funny and reverent at once, landing perfectly with a crowd ready to celebrate rather than mourn.

Then Black’s intro became something more. From the darkness came a guitar downstroke, and he burst into an a cappella blast of Soundgarden’s “Spoonman,” turning an introduction into a spontaneous mini-tribute. It was rough-edged and heartfelt—the kind of moment that only happens when a room is charged and a performer reads it just right.

As the cheer built, James Hetfield stepped into the light with his guitar, and the two slid into a brief, impromptu exchange that nodded toward Metallica’s “One.” It wasn’t planned as a duet showcase so much as a handoff: Black honoring Cornell, then ushering in Metallica with a jolt of adrenaline and goodwill.

Metallica’s set that followed was lean and purposeful. Rather than treat the night like another arena stop, they mixed their own staples with deep cuts from Soundgarden’s early days—“All Your Lies” and “Head Injury”—signaling respect for Cornell’s origins as well as his legend. It felt studied and sincere, not obligatory.

Part of why the handoff worked is Black’s timing. Fans later praised how he started to vamp, heard the stage readying behind him, and stepped aside the second the band was set—professionalism disguised as chaos. That instinct kept the tribute’s energy uninterrupted and squarely aimed at Cornell, not the presenters.

Others noted how “so Jack Black” the moment felt—playful, gutsy, and just loose enough to be human. Even when he leaned into the “Spoonman” lines with comic gusto, it somehow deepened the tribute instead of derailing it. That looseness made the night feel alive: a vigil with a pulse, not a museum piece.

Context mattered, too. “Spoonman” isn’t just a fan favorite; it was the first single from Soundgarden’s breakthrough album, Superunknown, the record that vaulted the band into heavy rotation and mainstream conversation in 1994. Hearing its hook burst out of a solemn intro captured the balance of grief and celebration the evening was chasing.

The staging around Metallica kept that tension. They honored Cornell’s Seattle roots while remaining unmistakably themselves, a choice that matched the event’s broader philosophy: don’t imitate the man; honor the music and the community he helped create. The audience, packed with die-hards and casual fans alike, responded to that clarity.

Elsewhere on the bill, the range was striking—Foo Fighters, Miley Cyrus, members of Soundgarden and Audioslave, Brandi Carlile, and more—making the concert feel less like a single tribute and more like a living anthology. The breadth underscored Cornell’s reach across eras and genres, a reminder that his songs travel well beyond any one scene.

The evening’s pacing also mattered. Long tribute shows can sag, but this one used short, sharp sets and unexpected cameos to keep attention high. Black’s cameo with Hetfield became the hinge that swung the crowd from eulogy to eruption, resetting the emotional temperature before the next wave of performances rolled in.

For Metallica, the curation had extra resonance. By reaching back to Soundgarden’s earliest recordings, they emphasized the spark that precedes legacy—the scrappy, hungry edges of a band that would become monumental. It framed Cornell not just as a voice, but as an architect of a sound that shaped an era.

Visually, the show doubled down on that sense of occasion. The Forum’s widescreen production, rotating backline, and brisk changeovers kept the music primary and the memorial tone intact. Photographers captured the breadth of the tribute—from quiet duets to full-bore rock sets—without ever crowding the songs themselves.

By the end, what lingered wasn’t any one celebrity cameo but the through-line of community: comedians, metal titans, pop vocalists, and grunge lifers sharing the same stage without irony. The Jack Black–James Hetfield moment distilled that spirit into a single beat—unexpected, sincere, a little ragged, and absolutely right for a night that asked everyone to sing, shout, and remember.

If you measure a tribute by whether it feels true to its subject, this one cleared the bar. It was spacious enough for humor and solemn enough for grief, generous to history and alive to the present. In the midst of it, a comedian yelled “Spoonman,” a thrash icon answered, and an arena full of people heard a song become a thank-you.