I'd not been down to the Staples Center since the Nokia Live Theatre L.A. Live Complex was completed, which is sort of like having not been to New Orleans since the hurricane, if the hurricane was a cluster bomb of blazing light fixtures. The area is not merely a collection of venues, but an experience in and of itself. (Albeit a cost prohibitive one.) I think walking between the towering columns of video and light was the closest I've been to living inside of a computer. It was utterly disorienting, but strangely thrilling.
I liked the Nokia Theatre. It's clean. The venue is cavernous but the lobby area is surprisingly intimate. Every inch of your vision inside and outside the lobby is assaulted by advertisement for Nokia products, but it only takes about ten seconds to become desensitized to the onslaught. I didn't dare brave the concessions stands.
The theatre itself is impressive. During performances the ceilings disappear in fog and darkness, and believe me, it is a dark theatre. I could barely see past my shoulder, save for the gorgeous stage, illuminated by stark, simple, effective lighting schemes.
I've got to tell you, it took me nearly ten minutes after I walked-in to realize that a band was on stage; I thought I was listening to the PA system. Despite the utter lack of charisma (or perhaps the presence of a charisma black-hole), She Wants Revenge sounded good in the way that a band sounds surprisingly good even when you can feel their dissipating relevance on your skin. (Well, they were never relevant to me, but you get the point.)
Echo and the Bunnymen, on the other hand, were a revelation.
The aging post-punkers were joined by a small orchestra for a front-to-back performance of their 1984 masterwork Ocean Rain. The 7,000+ theatre was woefully under-attended, which only goes to further the accepted truth that The Bunnymen are perpetually under-appreciated. Everyone who passed on Echo and the Bunnymen tickets because they took-out a second mortgage for U2 tix the following night was a fool.
Rumors on the death of singer Ian McCulloch's voice have been greatly exaggerated; he sounded outstanding (his Liverpool-filtered English stage banter, not so much), especially starting on "Crystal Days," the third song on the album. Ocean Rain is perhaps partly named to invoke a certain melancholy mood, but beneath that melancholy veneer is a diverse range of emotions and sounds. (The foci of the album's brilliance.) The orchestra-backed set accentuated this, with "Thorn of Crowns" seeming ever more seedy, dark, and demented; while "The Killing Moon" achieved the grandiose treatment it deserves. That song followed by "Seven Seas" and "My Kingdom," was a three-song stretch as good a performance of live music this blogger has seen all year. Simply magical.
Following a brief intermission the band returned for a tour de greatest hits. Newer track "Stormy Weather" achieved a blistering climax not heard in the 2005 recording of the song. "Lips Like Sugar" (played during the encore) single handedly justified the large venue (and is a better song than anything similar Bono ever wrote), but it was a ferocious rendition of "All That Jazz" (from the band's 1980 debut Crocodiles) that stole this blogger's heart.
Reunited or still-standing 1980's acts like Echo and the Bunnymen, The Jesus and Mary Chain, The Cure, and Morrissey have consistently out-performed 1990's mainstays such as Green Day, Weezer, and the Red Hot Chilli Peppers. Whereas major 90's acts have tragically devolved into self-parody (arguably, any 90's "alternative rock radio" band on a major label was born a self-parody) the 80's thoroughbreds have largely maintained their dignity and their musical prowess. I daresay that the Ocean Rain performance sounded better live in 2009 than it does on record. Pray the Bunnymen had the foresight to record it.
