Posts Tagged ‘Tom Morello’

Dw. Dunphy On… How to Kill a Supergroup

tadAs of this writing it is the wrinkly end to the middle of March (the 21st, for those who hate metaphor) and rumor and tempers are rumbling in the camp of Velvet Revolver. Yes indeed, Velvet Revolver, that bastion of rock ‘n’ roll dedicated to the pursuit of … well, the pursuit of … uh … you know, I’m not really sure what they’re in pursuit of. Slash isn’t hurting for cash, as I’m sure he’s getting a little money out of his Guns ‘N’ Roses tenure. Surely someone distracts Axl with a hunk of chum on a dangling string while someone else spirits away the rest of the band’s dues. And even if that wasn’t so, he must have some kind of back end for his Guitar Hero appearances. Lead singer Scott Weiland, fresh from his zilteenth rehab stint, couldn’t possibly have gotten so ripped that all his funds are gone. Duff McKagan and Matt Sorum shouldn’t be hurting either, so the only victim may be Dave Kushner (who?) and perhaps anyone who spent money on the band’s last bland effort Libertad. The most interesting track on the album (a cover of E.L.O.’s “Can’t Get It Out Of My Head”) wasn’t even theirs, and was interesting only because someone, presumably Weiland, thought it would be brilliant to change most of the lyrics. That alone should have been an indicator that someone wasn’t thinking this outing through clearly.

So here is a band that really has nothing to prove and nothing to earn. Their mutual pedigree has afforded them an instant audience that they only marginally honored with the Contraband debut. And there’s no reason that there should be friction since there’s really no pressure here, right? Aside from the crushing weight of massive ego threatening to obliterate anything that should crawl beneath it. We can’t forget that. Weiland’s slagging off Sorum who, apparently, wanted to sing along. Weiland’s argument: hey, I’m the singer, drummer boy! Yes, he is. He’s the singer. He’s also the unreliable frontman who has derailed many a plan with his addictions. In his defense, addiction to anything is a hard fight, relapses are considered probable and not merely possible and no one has a right to take up arms against someone who is trying to stay clean. By the same token, that person trying to stay clean must be humble enough to recognize the damage his actions have done, not castigate others to deflect the burden of guilt.

rslavI actually called it back in October when the sales figures for Libertad started coming in, tellingly on the low end of expectations. Weiland was intimating that a Stone Temple Pilots reunion was imminent and the rest of VR seemed conspicuously absent. I said that it appeared a collapse of Audioslave proportions was on the horizon. Sadly, I was right — for you see, dear reader, I was actually pulling for Velvet Revolver to buck the trend. Sure, their music never truly rose from the uncomfortable mash-up of GNR and STP, but it wasn’t like they had a talent deficit if they tried. I don’t think they tried. As I said previously, they milked the inheritance they had and that was that. When Audioslave splintered, we got Chris Cornell farting up a brown funk and calling it fresh baked cookies and (yuck) Rage Against the Machine reunited. (more…)

Basement Songs: Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band — Anaheim, CA, 4/7/08

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Waiting in line outside the Honda Center in Anaheim, CA, milling about with hundreds of other hungry fans, I suspected that the Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band concert I was about to attend would be much different that the L.A. show I saw back in October. The Honda Center (formerly the Arrowhead Pond) is a newer sports arena, one with deluxe suites, padded seats and air conditioning. You may think I’m joking, but the L.A. Sports Arena, where the October show took place, is a sweltering old gymnasium. I left that show ten pounds lighter. As security guards outside the Honda Center checked each concertgoer with hand-held metal detectors, I feared that a subdued Orange County crowd might drag the show down. I was wrong. Very wrong.

First of all, my seat was choice. 17 rows off the general admission floor, I was close enough and centrally located so that I wouldn’t have to rely on the huge video screens that hovered over the stage. Next to me sat an older gentleman and his wife, possibly in his 60s. He had balding white hair, a bit of a scowl and hearing aids in both ears. I thought, “Great, I’m stuck next to a grandpa who’s going to sit through the whole show.” Man, was I way off base. This guy and his wife were long time Springsteen veterans having been to several shows, including the 1984 massive L.A. Coliseum show. “That was probably before you were born,” she said to me. I laughed, assuring her that, oh yes, I’d been born all right (and stuck in my parents’ basement discovering music). This friendly couple was also attending the next night’s gig, as well. By the end of the night, I would be very jealous of them.

All day long my excitement had slowly built. The nearly five months between making a lucky purchase and the actual show had only slightly dampened my excitement. Throughout the weekend, I would stop Julie at random moments and say, “Hey, I’m not sure if you heard, but Springsteen is Monday.” As if I would let her forget. Still, I had decided weeks ago not to expect the type of experience I’d had back in October. That show had been transcendent; I doubted anything could reach its level of excellence. I just wanted to enjoy myself. Moreover, my workday had been frustrating and exhausting. Would I be able to really enjoy it? Yes. I knew the moment that I sat down and I let my eyes wander the crowd that I was in the right place. These past few months I have been through many internal struggles and being there, amongst the thousands of Springsteen fans, I thought to myself, “I need this. I am so glad to be here.” Any doubts or fears I may have had were dispelled the moment the lights went down and the band took the stage. A spotlight shined down on the Boss and he looked out over the masses. As the crowd roared, he called out to his old friend, guitarist Little Steven Van Zandt, “Hey Steven, I think I see the light out there.” (more…)