Can a six-hour, 11-band bacchanal boast across-the-board A-game performances, a Gwen Stefani surprise and the tautest hour from Linkin Park in a long while yet still not add up to a thoroughly satisfying experience?
It’s happened before in the 23 years that modern-rock titan KROQ has presented its Almost Acoustic Christmas bashes. My mind reels back to 1999 at the arena then called the Pond, the only time this double-wide event was moved from its usual home at Gibson Amphitheatre to a single-size blowout in O.C. That night hardly anyone saved a lineup that included Oasis, Foo Fighters, Beck, Blink-182, Fiona Apple, Tori Amos, 311, Save Ferris and Rob Zombie. How could so much add up to so little?
Reasons are hard to pinpoint. Often it’s the audience, especially on Saturdays, when party people live it up too hard too early and are wiped out once the major stuff arrives.
Other times redundancy breeds lethargy that’s hard to shake – much like this year’s opening third, which found energetic but one-dimensional half-hour turns from Northern Irish outfit Two Door Cinema Club and breakout acts Walk the Moon and Youngblood Hawke all blurring into one bland mix. (More of the same calculated quirk and tribal rhythm is due Sunday from Grouplove, Neon Trees and Imagine Dragons.)
Whatever the cause – I lay plenty of blame on lousy sound engineering that left most vocals obliterated by bass – it occurred again Saturday night. No one gave less than their all and most groups connected with the crowd in big ways, yet only a few moments from this marathon are likely to linger in the memory.
Leaving off the early stuff – Cincinnati’s Walk the Moon has promise, just not enough material – here’s my rundown from most invigorating to least.
• Garbage: Lean and mean in drawn-on black unitard material with a codpiece around her crotch, her fiery mane pulled back tight to expose her wild eyes, singer Shirley Manson was the night’s most striking sight by far, prowling the stage as if contemplating which pit weaklings she would devour first.
She and the stoic middle-aged men in her still-magnetic band blasted along mightily without ever overdoing it (or even seeming to have amps), ripping into one metallic electro-rock fixture after another: “Push It” and “I Think I’m Paranoid” to open, a sultrier “Only Happy When It Rains” and fierce “Vow” (plus a violently erotic Peaches reference) to close out. I’d have told Youngblood Hawke to stay home and given them a full hour.
• The Lumineers: After so much trendy neo-New Wave to start, this Denver outfit and deserving Grammy nominee for best new artist was a breath of fresh air. Yes, they’re essentially an American Mumford & Sons, from old-timey instrumentation to suspendered Depression-era garb. But instead of conjuring stormy passion, they convey communal spirit, their sing-alongs shared joy. “Ho Hey” and “Stubborn Love” elicited the same good feeling you get from Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeroes, only these folkies aren’t half as shambolic.
• Linkin Park: For a nonfan respectful of their generational pull and cathartic power, an hour-plus was the perfect dose from these generous Green Day replacements – just enough to examine every weapon in their arsenal without getting bludgeoned by them. Clearly the majority of the crowd came for them more than anyone else, and they delivered: Mike Shinoda’s rap on “Papercut” and Chester Bennington’s sneering vocal on the thrashy “Given Up” set an adrenalized pace that the band maintained through moodier new cuts (“Castle of Glass”) and anthemic go-to tracks (“Numb,” “In the End”).
• Slightly Stoopid: If LP hadn’t been so convincing, these San Diegan groove-rockers would rank higher. Always in-the-pocket live, whether venturing into believable dub reggae, the punk-free authenticity of “Ska Diddy” or killing it old-soul style on Archie Bell & the Drells’ “Tighten Up” (with Karl Denson on sax), Miles & Kyle & Co. were a tasty sorbet, cleansing the palate of so much samey indie pap. And when they went into “2am,” they had the entire room in their control.
• Bush: The Gwen moment – Mrs. Rossdale stepping out of the shadows shortly into “Glycerine” to join her hubby for a rare duet – was a winner that left us wondering what else might happen Sunday. (As I write this, the Wiki page for Almost Acoustic Christmas speculatively lists No Doubt as headliner, but even if they are logical surprise guests tonight, they surely won’t trump the Killers as closer.)
Humble Gavin, meanwhile, obviously grateful to still have such adoring (and young) fans, was wise to focus on the most durable parts of his catalog, including almost every hit from 1994’s Sixteen Stone. He’s earned his popularity. That his music remains a grungy carbon copy shouldn’t be held against him during a victory lap.
• The Gaslight Anthem: Remember John Cafferty and the Beaver Brown Band? “On the Dark Side” from Eddie and the Cruisers? Imagine the Offspring vigorously playing slightly less Springsteenian material and you’ve got the feel of this Jersey gang. Not bad, but not memorable either, even when Jakob Dylan helped out on “45.”
• Rise Against: I get why they so easily rile up the perpetual youth revolt; years of touring and studio refinement has finally enabled them to pack as much punch as they do speed. What I can’t figure out is how they’re getting away with it without attempting any variety whatsoever. Wait, no – that’s exactly the point. Wearing their grass-roots punk cred like uniforms, they simply pummel headlong into ideological walls they never really smash through. And their drummer is still weak sauce, even for a minimalist.
• Awolnation: A band suffering a personality crisis that’s almost to its benefit. The moniker sounds metal, as do frontman Aaron Bruno’s screams, but the melodies often seem straight out of Panic! at the Disco and the beats want to be Daft Punk’s. Too bad what’s enticing about the ensemble’s eclectic approach was drowned in so much chest-rattling bottom you couldn’t tell one element from another.
