Billy Corgan is a man of various phases. His support band for the
evening, Gliss, are sporting Corgan's tortured soul phase which
surfaced during the dark mellon collie years. The LA three piece who
like to
trade instrumental duties must think it's their lucky day, there at the
same
altar as their master. It's hammer and nails stuff which nobody's
buying.
Still that doesn't mean politeness should go out the window which is
the one
honour tonight's audience can bestow upon Gliss.
The question on everybody's lips this evening is which Billy Corgan
will
show up? Last we heard of him, he was a chirpier, smiley fellow with
his
hippie friends in Zwan. Then it ended abruptly with inter band
tensions and Corgan deciding to relinquish the helm rather than carry
on
steering it. If only Robert Mugabe would grant Zimbabwe the same
courtesy.
Inevitably chatter drifted to would he or wouldn't he knock out some
Pumpkins numbers.
For all this futile speculation the proof was in the cold pudding of
the
foul year of valium, 1997. Corgan had declared rock dead, electronica
the
future, and produced the overlooked gem that was to begin the Pumpkins'
eventual demise, Adore.
Less than 10 years later, be it to fulfill his own prophecy, Corgan
is
suited (neo Berlin Goth chic) and booted. His stage setup sits along
the
same plain as Nine Inch Nails and Marilyn Manson shows,
with
apocalyptic looking keyboards and sample machines staffed by session
musicians who appear to be extras from Blade Runner.
The giant white multi-tiled screen spanning the stage casts vivid
visuals
effects which make the Corgan show more interesting than it really is.
The
beginning is a timid squall not aided by Corgan's guitar being the only
live
instrument.
Corgan happily drops a few guitar masturbation fests to much aplomb,
but
the new songs are too similar (and new) to provoke much of a response.
Of
the ones which did, A100's throbbing industrial beat could have been
picked
off any of the Pumpkins' latter day work, as could have Mina Loy's
proto
stomp. As much as it pains to admit it, the live show testifies this
is
Corgan's weakest collection of songs released (though he set the bar
pretty
damn high).
The ones which didn't make the grade ironically spark life towards
the
end, which also seems to let out the old Billy, who engages the
audience a
mere hour into the set. A punky electro number is the most old school
we see
Corgan, and he even slipped in a new notes from Today.
All Things Change produced a show stopping moment where band and
crowd
were one with the words: "We can change the world." OK it's not Live8,
but
every little helps. Aptly Corgan returned for the encore alone for the
tender closer Strayz.
Cheered off like an old Olympic hero, the expression and
conversation
throughout and after the show was pretty clear. The old athlete may not
have
many races left in him, and he certainly still has his novel and poetry
to
keep him busy. This audience is just too polite to not embrace their
returning champion.
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