To say that I had been anticipating this show would be an
understatement – I had literally been waiting for 20 years to see it! I have had a near-lifelong love affair with
the music of X, born one day while perusing cassettes at the local library and
being unable to take my eyes off the arresting cover of “Live at the Whisky A
Go-Go on the Fabulous Sunset Strip”.
That album was a gateway to left coast punk for me and it is without
question one of the finest live albums of the last 40 years. I had foregone an opportunity as a teen to
see that incarnation of the band (with ace guitarist Tony Gilkyson sitting in
for once and future guitar demi-god, Billy Zoom) figuring, “They’ll be back”. And it only took 20 years!
Opening with the one-two punch of “Your Phone’s Off the
Hook” and “Sugarlight”, the band spent the next 50-something minutes showing
the crowd exactly why they are one of the most critically-adored and respected
American punk acts. Co-leaders Exene
Cervenka and John Doe were spot on vocally, and Doe’s energy never flagged as
he stomped and whipped his bass around and still managed to hit every note (an
even more impressive feat given that he is just shy of turning 60 and looks
almost the same as he did 30 years ago…the man has to have a picture in an
attic somewhere!) Cervenka, physically more
sedate than back in the day, looked amazing and unleashed every feral wail she
had in her, creating the haunting counterpoint to Doe’s baritone croon that is
the hallmark of their finest songs.
Zoom, rock steady stage left, spit out fierce rockabilly riffs with ease,
barely looking away from the ceiling except to flash his trademark grin. And DJ Bonebrake, long one of punk’s finest
drummers, was on absolute fire! His
breakdown in the middle of a smoking “Hungry Wolf” proves that you can have a
tasteful drum solo, and his playing throughout was inspired. X have always struck me as a kind of missing
link between the Doors and Jane’s Addiction – imbuing their songs with the dark
sexuality of the former while foreshadowing the latter’s preoccupation with the
City of Angel’s romantic allure.
The setlist stuck to their unimpeachable first four albums,
and the crowd responded to “Los Angeles” and “The Once Over Twice” like the
true classics that they are. The
performances were fierce, passionate and in several places transcendent. This super-fan missed hearing “The World’s A
Mess (It’s In My Kiss)” or the underrated later gem “Around My Heart”, but
those are minor quibbles. When you have a catalog that’s a veritable
embarrassment of riches and a finite opening spot, something’s gotta give and
the band managed to give their all to 18 songs that oozed sincerity and desire. Not a minute was wasted (Doe commented that
they usually are chattier but had to keep to their time) and if the increasingly
loud chorus of cheers are any indication, quite a few converts were made in the
process. All I know is that by the time
the band exited stage right and Zoom came out to take his traditional photos of
the crowd, I had a grin plastered ear to ear and my voice was hoarse from
screaming along. Well done!
The headliner was a study in contrast. Synched to a multimedia backdrop, Blondie
stuck to the hits and played them with a slick proficiency that was admirable
and the crowd lapped it up. Debbie Harry
commanded the stage and was very clearly enjoying herself, beaming as she
belted out the classics in that inimitable alto of hers, while co-founder Chris
Stein alternated between rhythm guitars and well-crafted solos (all while
bedecked in an X shirt…a classy touch!)
The set belonged to Clem Burke, the Keith Moon of NYC punk, who played
like a beast unleashed, flipping his sticks 10 feet in the air without missing
a beat and playing manic fill after fill – it was a treat to watch a master in
his element. Ably abetted by three
auxiliary players (including longtime bassist Leigh Foxx), the band cranked out
disco-infused new wave standards that were enjoyable despite their familiarity and
radio ubiquity and it was a great way to wind down a Friday evening. There are far worse things than witnessing a
living legend play some of the most popular songs of the late-70s and early-80s!
No comments:
Post a Comment