Muse - September 2004.

MetroCity: Perth, Australia. By Mac.

Must be great to be in a band called Neon. Their mix of teenage angsty indie-riffs and surly attitude means they fit in effortlessly with so many other bands who also look and sound the same way. They have a very clear target audience and someone offered them the opportunity to support one of the biggest angsty space-rock acts of the last few years. Sadly for Neon, most of their target audience aren't old enough to attend this 18+ gig. Sadder for the audience who did show up, Neon are painfully crap. Sadder all round, Neon themselves appear resigned to not caring either way and dump their performance on stage with the carefree abandon of a self-employed removalist who has just been fired, by himself. 20 minutes previously, we were in line excitedly discussing the rumour Perth's own Fourth Floor Collapse doing the honours. If only!

Now I have many fond memories of MetroCity - none of which involve an evening in the presence of their resident DJs. Moby, Portishead, Endorphin, Paul Mac, Reef, Automatic, Lamb, Placebo... I've had a pretty good run all up. And once, I even saw Muse. It was circa their first album, Showbiz. 300 people showed up. Their first five songs were acoustic - lilting, restrained amblings through tracks such as Muscle Museum - akin to having a hard-on that was set to burst without anything to touch it off. Then they launched into their furious demolition derby. Two albums later, they are one of the biggest bands on the planet. Absolution has been holding its own on the global album charts for 17 months and counting. Their Big Day Out appearances in February this year are universally regarded as one of the festival highlights of recent times. They've proclaimed an open love for Australia which had them promising to return within 6 months - a promise that allegedly got them into trouble with their management which had their own ideas for the rest of the year. Heck, a chunk of their extra-curricular BDO shenanigans even made it on to the Sing For Absolution DVD. But come good they did and they came good which made us come. Good.

So, what do Muse do differently in 2004 from what they did in 2000? Well, the first gig in 2000 having only attracted 300 people for the first trip quite understandably prompted the promoters to book the slightly smaller Metro's Fremantle (venue for Sonic Youth last month). Tix sold out within 48 hours. Someone obviously forgot two key factors - 1 : Absolution has been a huge international hit for over a year ; 2 : February's MASSIVE BDO shows were crowded as! The rescheduled date sold out in just 12 more hours.

A good vantagepoint is essential at any gig. I've always preferred the front and centre position. Normally, I like to constantly try different positions but at gigs, the only good one is the one that allows informed criticism of your idol's personal hygiene. Without such dedication to the art of positioning, I wouldn't have been able to flirt with Stefan Placebo, dodged cigarettes hurled at Beth Portishead or highlight of majestic highlights, had drops of Powerade spat into my mouth by Keith Prodigy. So tis with the frustration of a cola-junkie wearing unremoveable trousers, I concede to an ample vantagepoint behind the mixing desk with the Lima boys. True, once a burly Marge Simpson-haired bloke eventually shuffles to my left, the view of the stage is brilliant. But some thoughtless techie has left a copy of the set list RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME. My consciousness is forcing my eyes to avert gaze or tries valiantly to quickly turn on the mosaic mode of my retina to not spoil the surprise of what is to come. Though however strong the desire to keep all the Christmas presents wrapped without peeking, the subliminal brain relentlessly pounds the curiosity circuits like the first time you see a close relative naked. I begrudgingly accept the knowledge that Muse will kick off with Hysteria and bait the boys into betting on what's up first and last. Dave puts his chips on "the one that goes 'biddle-di-diddle-bip-diddle'…or maybe Plug In Baby", but Leon totally calls it putting all his money on Hysteria.

Aaah, Hysteria. No warming us up with the interlude beginning as on the album, it's straight into the granite tumbleweeding bass that rolls in and bowls us over like gophers. Have we been lied to? Are Muse really from Paris, Texas, not Teignmouth, Devon? Coz they're bowling us over with every single track. Hysteria leads into the piano-rainfall intro of New Born which again demolishes any chance of them repeating the acoustic ambience of their first Perth appearance. They relent not one second and hurtle bombadism after bombadism. Time Is Running Out, Muscle Museum, Cave, Butterflies & Hurricanes, Uno… A relentless, ruthless refusal to gutterball a single track. They even chuck in the DOUBLE curveball of Fury - the predatory b-side to Sing For Absolution - and perennial live favourite Dead Star. Eventually, they relent the intensity (somewhat) and let someone get in the hotdogs so they can mellow out (albeit 'mellowing out' in Muse-land is rather akin to say, Starsailor being really fucking intense because someone left toothpaste all over the luxury-tourbus sink). So Muse charm their way into our pants with Unintended and Endlessly.

Now I've always been a fan of small-talk. If you want simply a note-for-note reconstruction of an album, listen to the album. I like to have my fave songs sung with conviction and it's like your best mate scoring a double-strike when they deliver a brilliant rendition of a fave but with an improvised or unexpected twist. Muse's ability to deliver faithful but dynamic strike after strike whilst maintaining the amassed crowd is indisputable. What I look forward to is the banter. The acknowledgments of the crowd. The reassurance that everything is cool with these people who I have invested so much getting close to through their music. I like the snapshot of where these people are actually at and that this show that I have looked so forward to seeing is the only place they would rather be right now. It sedates those of us who have craved the attentions of being in a band but have either never had the talent nor the profile to do so that at least someone we respect has made it and they're making the most of it. Of course, some performers are naturally shy and don't do 'banter' all that comfortably. And the pressure of being the frontman can sometimes be a little unfair. They are always the one that gets asked the good questions in interviews, leaving fodder such as "So, how did you get your name, Gorky's Zygotic Mynci?" for the drummer. Matt Bellamy is definitely enjoying playing live but it falls to drummer Dominic Howard to muster the crowd to cheer bassist Chris Walstenholme for playing with a healing broken wrist. Chris (for my money 'The Hot One' in Muse) plays for the sympathy and they exchange another comment about "fucking loving Australia"). Matt remains quiet but he seems happy enough. So all's good then.

So with sweaty shirts (and a sad absence of wrangled guitar strings - is the Bellamster a little TOO good wherein he knows how to keep his instrument in one piece, *f'nerg!*) one encore is to be had. Another instrumental b-side (Plug In Baby's Nature_1) then the apocalyptic Stockholm Syndrome (as if it could possibly be a breezy rendition…) replete with signature purple balloons, we will forgive MetroCity for it's small floorspace denying us the splendourpomp of loads of massive bouncing balls filled with confetti that farewell their gigs, tis all over, Rover. Muse leave triumphant. Could anything have improved the game for this spectator? Well Sing For Absolution was conspicuous in its absence and orgasms would've been had if they had bowled Showbiz out. But these are the equivalents of having powderry butter flavouring instead of the real stuff for your popcorn. I was bowled over.

outpatients / home