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Beacon Theatre, New York City October 31, 2002 By C. Bottomley There's a certain art to picking your support act. Nine Inch Nails once opted for Atari Teenage Riot because they were sure their audience would hate the German group's white noise mongering. In 1966, the Rolling Stones toured England with Ike & Tina Turner as openers. Young Mick Jagger carefully studied Tina's energetic moves from the wings, and the art of being a frontman hasn't been the same since. Having just released Sea Change, his most personal and underwhelming album to date, Beck hoped to juice up his act by employing the Flaming Lips as both his backing band and opening act. The notion of the maturing boy genius and the Oklahoman weirdoes playing together was certainly tantalizing. If there were enough pharmaceuticals on the rider, maybe the Lips could take Beck on a trip back into the uncharted musical regions he once frolicked in before assuming his latest incarnation as maudlin balladeer. The Lips were up for the challenge, bum-rushing the stage on Halloween with an army of dancers in furry animal suits. While songs like "Race for the Prize" and "Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots" shine with a starry-eyed optimism amid drum rolls and synthesized strings, the band's live show is surrealism with dime-store props. Beach balls bounced among the crowd and disco balls sent shards of light dancing into the upper balcony. Lead Lip Wayne Coyne doused the musicians with a portable smoke machine, whirled a red miner's light around his head, duetted with a hand puppet and poured fake blood over his natty white suit. He even wiped the imitation gore from his eyes to read out birthday greetings. "We celebrate as if every song is like a birthday/Happy Halloween kind of thing," he said. "Why wait for the encore?" When he toured the turbo-charged Odelay and Midnite Vultures, Beck held the same philosophy, copping show-stopping moves from James Brown, Prince and Iggy Pop. Sea Change, however, is an opus of mope in the tradition of Neil Young's Harvest or Nick Drake's Pink Moon. So instead of taking the stage to kick off the greatest show on earth, Beck stumbled through the dissipating dry ice for the acoustic portion of his program. He squinted and mumbled as if his sheer talent was too much of a burden for him to carry, but the pose was justified by strong renditions of Change's "Guess I'm Doing Fine" and "Sunday Sun." Although Beck's rudimentary strumming showed up the songs' plodding nature, his lovelorn groaning assumed operatic proportions. Just when you wanted to throw the poor lamb a hankie to dry his tears, he covered the Lips' "Do You Realize?," finding uplift in the lines, "You realize the sun doesn't go down/ It's just an illusion caused by the world spinning round." When a rear curtain rose to reveal the Lips playing along to the Sea Change's "The Golden Age," it became clear that Beck and band were uneasy musical bedfellows. While Beck tried to remain the timid troubadour, Coyne would wave his fists in triumph, and during "Tropicalia," picked up the singer and carried him across the stage. The other Lips were a well-behaved backing group who only soared on Sea Change's orchestral "Lonesome Tears" and the Serge Gainsbourg tribute, "Paper Tiger." When it was time to get funky on "Nicotine & Gravy" and "Where It's At," though, they couldn't find a groove in Bootsy Collins' trousers. Beck was faced with a similar dilemma of adjusting himself to his material. The different incarnations of his near-decade-long career refused to play nicely with each other. It's tough to pretend you're a kindergarten Kraftwerk for Midnight Vultures' electro exercise "Get Real Paid," become a dustbowl Donovan for Mutations' "Cold Brains" and then take the down elevator for Sea Change's flimsy lament "It's All In Your Mind." There were points when Beck looked like a surprise guest at his own show. Past glories didn't save him, either. His breakthrough hit "Loser" was executed like an out-dated ritual. Playing for an audience that looked like the last night in Sodom - and even somebody dressed as Guns N' Roses guitarist Buckethead - Beck couldn't find a costume that fit. Maybe he should try pouring some fake blood over his head. For news, bio, songs, CDs, and more go to the Beck Artist A-Z pages. Tell us what you think of this review. |
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