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Review By
Siobhan O'Neill
The Palace
Hollywood, CA
8/13/99 |
Can I express my surprise and gratitude before
I start this?
"Staind," who share a label with band-of-the-moment
Limp Bizkit, were a concept that, in theory, scared me. The sea
change in rock music lately has left a lot of us chicks who jump
sort of unhappy. You've got to think that if you're venturing
into the Flip Records universe, if you're a girl, you're just
not safe. It's not 1990 anymore, where I received my first broken
nose at a Ministry show by way of encouragement from one Al Jourgensen,
who saw me rabbiting past the security guards and egged me on.
It's not even 1992, when the chicks were welcome in the mosh
pit at the Nirvana shows. Back then, we never once saw a different
kind of chick, the kinds in platform shoes with fake breasts
pushing themselves backstage to be "discovered" for
the evening by some drunk band member. That was something you
did at, say, a Poison show - about ten years ago. Now, the porn
stars are still hobnobbing with the foul-mouthed princes of rock,
and all of a sudden it's just like 1985 at a Motley Crue show
- it's just that the band is no longer wearing spandex and eyeliner,
they're wearing Tommy Hilfiger and Kangol hats and hanging with
the Vivid Video crowd. So thank you, Flip Records, whoever you
are. This little gem here definitely gives me hope, in more ways
than one.
I listened to "Staind's" record before I went off into
the breach. Certainly, their ethos is a little more cerebral
than their labelmates, the purveyors of "Nookie." Lyrics
like "I'm cancer in your womb/ I'm the needle in your spoon,
but.../ I haven't been here long enough to know/ Every time I
feel this I just lose control/ Such a cancer on the face of everything
that's beautiful/ I wish that this would just go, go," ("Just
Go") and the lack of gratuitous sex, drugs, and violence
are really quite refreshing. Don't get me wrong - there's plenty
of all three to go around on this record (mostly the drugs and
violence part) but it's not in my face. The lyrics, however,
leave something to be desired. I had this gnawing feeling that
vocalist/lyricist Aaron Lewis sometimes lacks the language necessary
to express himself in anything other than tired cliches. Granted,
there's an occasional twist on them, such as: "My choices
haunt me everywhere I go," ("Raw")' but then on
other tracks you end up with things like "You take away/
I feel the same/ All the promises you made to me you made in
vain/ I lost myself inside your tainted smile again/ Cause you
can't feel my ANGER/ You can't feel my pain/ You can't feel my
torment/ Driving me insane/ I can't fight these feelings they
will bring you pain," ("Mudshovel") and I just
wanna lose it. With a hackneyed title like "Dysfunction,"
and song titles like "Home," "Crawl," "Suffocate"
and "Excess Baggage," you have to wonder how relevant
a record like this is going to be. Haven't we been there? And
while the answer may be yes, I wanted to know if I was dealing
with wannabe rock stars or serious musicians before I made a
final judgement. The answer, I am happy to report, is about 30%
the former and 70% the latter. Yes, just right.
I managed to finagle myself into a short conversation before
the show with drummer Jon Wysocki. I found Jon to be direct,
straightforward, and engaging. We chatted for a few moments,
off the record, about how he felt about Los Angeles, reporters,
the scene, etc., and his response was, basically, that he was
just happy to be playing live for so many amped-up fans (and
boy, were they ever - they were on a bill sandwiched between
scene-stealing, blow-them-all-away openers Skunk Anansie, and
headliners Sevendust). The band is on a rollercoaster that only
the proverbial few get to ride on, and he felt that the band's
primary mantra landed somewhere along the lines of "don't
blow it.
Amen!
The record itself, as noted above, suffers from what seems to
be a lack of language to accurately describe the events without
sounding like a pop-psychology rant. However, a powerful, heartfelt,
and emotionally exhausting performance (for the band as well
as the audience) from Lewis and crew are what make this band
something special. The record provides gory details of the life
of an addict and his spiral out of control, starting with his
mother ("My mothers always tried to change herself / She
never learned to let things be/ She doesn't know how bad she
messed me up" {"Me"}), going on to his girlfriend
("I'm so lonely/ You're so beautiful/ Late at night I can
hear your voices/ Talking shit about all my choices" {"Crawl"}),
and landing on himself ("I'm so pathetic/ I can't believe
I'm just an addict/ I've never needed anyone to help me (I'm
failing it)/ I'm begging you to please come save me from myself,"
{"Me"}). While this is unquestionably dark, it is also
a focused self- indictment, sharing realizations that only occur
to the addict who has reached a point where he can look into
it ("And I may end a life, by what I hold inside/ All the
things that I live with I can't easily hide," {"Excess
Baggage"}) and see what's on the other side of such self-destructive
leanings; realizations that don't paint him in the best light.
Onstage, the crew managed to score a few points with me more
by what they didn't do at first. First, they take the stage in
simple orange jumpsuits, looking more like medical technicians
about to dissect a body than a band about to blow your head off.
You're also not going to see a Fred Durst lookalike jumping around
making an ass of himself. Vocalist Lewis has a decidedly different
take on what a frontman is about, instead preferring to assume
the role of the "loser" that he plays on the record
with disturbingly actor-like dedication. Wysocki proved to be
a strangely eloquent drummer; an odd adjective, considering the
vehicle, but he's definitely the one with his finger on the pulse
of what is going on up there. Bassist Johnny April and guitarist
Mike Mushok bring a full complement of riotous, bone-shattering
noise. There isn't a misfired note in the live show, that's for
sure - they play like professionals, they treat the crowd like
professionals, and they get it back, judging from the crowd response.
(As a side note, I think their manager needs to fire their lighting
designer, or lack thereof. I couldn't see or shoot a thing, and
most of the photographers there were complaining that they've
had to give it a shot in low light, but this show was ridiculous.
It was impossible to see anything in the 20% intensity of plain
red on the stage. It never fluctuated or rose so you could see
anything but blurred figures. I doubt it was an "artistic
choice," rather, it sounds like someone inexperienced wanted
"mood lighting" without having the first clue how to
create it. So I have nothing but grainy dark spots with the occasional
red streak in my photos, none of which you will see here.) Call
me progressive. I still dig a band where the chicks are welcome
and the drummer didn't think that just because I was talking
to him that I wanted something else. I still dig a band that
has Issues with itself on a personal level and can speak of it
openly. The only thing that I wish for is a little more, well,
profundity. What do I expect from a bunch of guys from Hartford?
More, I say, More. Something that does them justice, for God's
sake.
So I'm gonna let you guys slide this time. I'm not bagging on
ya, and I'm not being down on your feelings or on your talents.
I just think your lyrics are weak and I think somewhere in there,
Aaron, there's a Sting just screaming to get out. Live your life,
read a lot, trust your own feelings and don't get bogged down
in cliches. You have something to say, I can hear it. Just make
sure you're really listening to your own voice. Because we are. |
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