This one has been The Big One for me for a good long time. Ever since I tripped on a twitter and fell headlong into Nine Inch Nails fandom, I have been waiting for this show.
The fact that it has Street Sweeper Social Club is a surprise bonus. One reason, two words: Tom Morello. That guy is everywhere. This has got to be something like his eighth band and normally I'd mock him for that but this time I totally don't care because every show needs more Tom Morello! It's the law or something.
Street Sweeper has really gelled since I saw their premiere in Seattle. Boots Reilly has got some seriously happy feet and watching him dance is fun just by itself, but with the volume turned up, his rapping's like a cold fast river. The Freedom Fighter Orchestra (now wearing different uniforms) have really come into their own. Carl Restivo especially flaunts that Gibson like HE'S the star, which is a big change since the first time I saw him, looking stoned and slightly vacant in the Filmore in SF way back in October 2008. This band has come a long way. My favorite song of theirs is STILL a cover (M.I.A's "Paper Planes") but they've proven themselves a real band, not a vanity project.
Nine Inch Nails of course were who I came to see: Trent Reznor and his crew of less-buff but equally pale side-kick/minions. It hurts me to admit that I think they got upstaged. Don't get me wrong, I ENJOY Nine Inch Nails music hugely and wore myself out jumping around to "1,000,000," "Discipline" and "Head like a Hole" (A song I was anticipating, "Survivalism" ended up sounding a bit like a train wreak) but...well, I donno. Something was just missing.
It wasn't Ilan Rubin: NiN's current drummer is 20-years of human-shaped whirlwind: all curly hair and flying sticks, and watching him get up from his stool to...I can only describe it as "scamper" over to the keyboard during "March of the Pigs" then scamper back to his drums was adorable AND rockin'! And that's an irrestable combination for me. Look out Jay Weinburg, you're not the only intensely talented percussionista prodigy out and about these days.
As for Trent Reznor himself, all I can say is that if ever a man was born to do a job, Reznor was born for this one. He's the Dark Prince counterpoint to Springsteen's sacred radiance, commanding the black fires of the underworld like no other performer out there. Modern times have produced no heirs. If he's serious that this is his last tour, then the music-loving world is about to suffer a huge loss, because his mix of rage, ironic tenderness, and genuine raw musical talent is worth seeing at least once in your life and I'm glad I can now say that I've done it.
It was pretty good. I was happy. Jane's Addiction, it turned out, would leave me happier, and not just because the two ladies in front of me were smoking a lot of weed. The show was a fantastic three ring circus with a more colorful lighting design and some surprisingly non-intrusive integration of a shadow-movie screen playing clips from Natural Born Killers and other films I've never seen.
Perry Farrel is easily one of the best frontmen I've ever seen. He makes the task of getting an audience to love you look effortless. Where Reznor kept himself to his brief speach about this "maybe" being his last tour (simultanius response is "boo!" and "Yeah right") Perry Ferrel chatted away like he was everyone's long-lost friend. Topics of his speeches included going easy on Obama ("Give him a chance, he can't be worse then what we had") his love of San Francisco ("We'd be your house band if you'd have us!") Bill Grahm ("I knew him, I know two of his kids, and his spirit lives on!") age ("I'm fifty, I hope I'm still going to shows like this when I'm 60!") and "faggy clothes" as an expression of freedom ("I'd rather die then give up my corset!"). The crowd adored him. His voice, though slightly distorted by a heavy echo effect, has an element of boyish sweetness that clashes with his decadent attitude. He's just a character, and he LOVES San Francisco. He should come back so we can elect him mayor.
Dave Navarro is always worth a second look. He seems to be frozen permanently in his mid 30s, and plays with his buff tattooed torso on full desplay. His stance is as wide as any classic punk rocker, and with his blistering, generally high-pitched guitar he sounded like a scar of sound, or a blinding flash of light. His playing is what gives the music it's teeth.
Perkins was playing in his underwear and hammering on two bass drums like he was two drummers glued together. He also couldn't resist mugging for the stage-camera to his left: he kept fixing it with deep stares, his head turned just so. Eric Avery, the original bassist and single reunion hold-out before now was the only one who didn't look like he was having an absolute blast. When Perry came to his side of the stage to bring the spotlight, Eric completely ignored him. He remained hunched over his bass, seemingly lost in the music and not really paying attention to anyone, even the audience until he decided to sit with his legs dangling off the stage. But he never lost the trademark Jane's Addiction deeply melodic groove, not even once, and it's easy to see how it just couldn't be the band it is without him.
The ignoring thing might have been in my imagination. Again, the ladies in front of me had a lot of weed. I left the venue feeling really good about the world.
This is being billed as Nine Inch Nails's farewell tour, and the comeback for the original Jane's Addiction (several attempts at replacing Avery have failed). Who knows what the future actually has in store for these two groups, but just this night, now was enough.
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