Concert Review: Smashing Pumpkins at Fiserv Forum 10/30/22

I had the beginning and the ending of this review mostly written in my head days before the show was going to take place. The reason for this is that when it comes to bands/artists I’ve seen multiple times – particularly legacy acts – is that I mostly know what to expect. They’re going to play mostly hits, maybe a few deep cuts, some new songs that no one cares about – and it will all be delivered in a perfectly competent package. 

There is nothing wrong with this in and of itself, But it is a little bit – and neither of these two adjectives completely describe the experience for me, but they are the two that keep coming to mind – boring and disappointing. It is a pattern that has kept repeating itself for most of my adult life, whether we’re talking about Paul McCartney, Tool, or in this case Smashing Pumpkins. Nothing has ever been able to match the anticipation of seeing a band for the first time, not knowing entirely how it was going to go, and then being completely blown away by it all.

Of course, this isn’t the fault of Smashing Pumpkins, it is my own. This, friends, is why it’s a bad idea to live too much inside your own head. It becomes very easy to be let down when you think too much about things.

Fortunately for those of you that don’t want to read a total bummer, Smashing Pumpkins still know how to put on a stellar rock show. James Iha was dressed for the occasion(the concert took place on the day before Halloween) in a full mummy costume; Billy Corgan looked exactly like you’d expect him to look; Jimmy Chamberlin let his excellent drumming do the talking. 

They started with a new tune, “Empires,” that was appropriately noisy, but otherwise forgettable. “Bullet With Butterfly Wings” was next, and the real rocking commenced. Did I sing/scream along to all the words I knew? Of course I did. Was there righteous air guitar soloing? You know it.

We were treated to an excellent and apt deep cut, “We Only Come Out At Night,” from Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness. There was also a sweet moment when Billy and James performed “Tonight, Tonight” together on acoustic guitars. For about 4 minutes they had me believing they were buds, belting out some of the most enduring music of the 1990s. 

The last third of the show was probably the most enjoyable for me. “Cherub Rock” featured some excellent guitar work by everyone involved. “Zero” scorched like it always has. “1979” filled the arena with a warm sense of nostalgia that only a song like “1979” can. Finally, the last number, “Silverfuck,” was all gnarled and screechy guitars – a shredfest that built and built until the whole thing boiled over. And then just like that it collapsed in on itself and it was over. No encore. Just the house music and eventually the lights telling us to go home.

I suspect both band and fans – at least those of my generation – have now settled into a comfortable middle age. They’ll play the hits, which will make them boatloads of cash (and for Billy Corgan, the ability to make self-indulgent triple albums that no one will care about). In exchange we get to see and listen to the music of our youth. It will be solid but unspectacular.

I was looking forward to this concert for months. I thought I was looking forward to the music, man, but I think in the end I was actually just excited to hang out with my friends for a couple of hours. In a world that looks more and more like it’s diminishing returns all the way down, I think I’ll take it.

Notes from a novice: The National at the Riverside, 9/16/22

A view from the last possible seat in the balcony.

  

The National, one of the daddiest of the dad-rock bands going today*, played to a sold-out Riverside Theater on Friday night. 

All of The National’s best songs have a feeling of calm with a sense of danger lurking underneath, like a plane drifting through the sky about to hit some turbulence. Aided by Bryan Devendorf’s propulsive drumming, the songs were taken from mere mid-tempo indie rock to something bigger and better.

The National frontloaded their set with some of their best tunes. ”Mistaken for Strangers” took on a different meaning as a middle-aged dad, but still hits hard. High Violet cut “Bloodbuzz Ohio” had the largely millennial crowd’s attention early on, with Matt Berninger crooning its entirely-too-appropriate chorus of “I still owe money, to the money, to the money I owe.” “The System Only Dreams in Total Darkness,” perhaps the rockingest song in their catalog, brought the entire crowd to its feet for the first time. Aaron Dessner’s gnarly, squiggly lead guitar brought some much-needed color to the muted greys and browns that The National usually traffic in. 

I called The National “dad rock” in the opening, and though I stand by that, in truth there were more women in the crowd than men. I think that at least begins with Matt Berninger’s rich baritone voice. He’s part mumbly crooner, part rambling drunk. Whatever you want to call it, he had complete control of the crowd. He ventured into the pit a handful of times throughout the nearly two-hour set, and one imagines it was sort of like a religious experience for those lucky enough to get close to him. 

It would be fair to think of the crowd at a The National show to be one that stands in the back, arms folded, too cool to show any sense of enjoyment. (I say this because I am one of those insufferable people.) This would be absolutely wrong, however. There was dancing in the aisles. There was fist pumping. As someone who is very self-conscious of going to shows alone, it was a relief to see there were fans of all levels (superfan, casual, etc.). 

Ultimately, I think the appeal of The National lies in the sense of togetherness that underpins the music. The lyrics may be sometimes mopey or sad sack, but that didn’t stop anyone from singing along. When Berninger shouted the chorus to crowd favorite “Mr. November,” I wasn’t sure if it was a promise or a plea, but the crowd screamed “I won’t fuck us over!” right along with him. 

That sense of community lasted right through the last song of the encore. The band gathered in a semi-circle at the front of the stage. They started to play gentle High Violet closer “Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks.” Matt Berninger played conductor in lieu of having a microphone, but that didn’t matter as a Dashboard Confessional show broke out right then and there as the crowd sang every line of the song back at the band. Perhaps that is a traditional closer because everyone seemed to know exactly what to do. But it was stunning nonetheless. On a night where, as a first-timer, I didn’t know what to expect, the vibes – as the kids say – were immaculate. There is no higher compliment that I can pay, all things considered.

* I think the top five, in some order or another, is The War on Drugs, Spoon, Wilco, The National, and Foo Fighters.