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Hammerstein Ballroom, New York February 28, 2002 By C. Bottomley By now we all know Gorillaz's gimmick: the band isn't really there. What should have been a mildly interesting side project for Blur singer Damon Albarn and West Coast sonic guru Dan the Automator took on a much more elaborate dimension when illustrator Jamie Hewlett, the creator of Tank Girl, invented cartoon alter egos for them. So instead of Albarn, meet singer 2D, a dazed slacker with black holes for eyes. Add bassist Nazi Murdoc, hulking drummer Russel, and guitarist Noodle - two feet of Shonen Knife and Hello Kitty - and you've resolved the dilemma facing every experitronica band ever: how to put a face on computer-driven innovation. But the reasons why Gorillaz are hipper than the Archies and able to pack Hammerstein Ballroom have more to do with music than marketing. Their self-titled debut disc became a must-have album thanks to the aggravatingly catchy singles "Clint Eastwood" - probably the first time dub has ever troubled MTV2 - and "19-2000." The melodies on Gorillaz are as complicated as a nursery rhyme, but accommodate lounge ("Rock the House"), drone ("Double Bass") and even punk ("Punk"). Gorillaz are diverse.Gorillaz are good. And it certainly didn't hurt matters that their videos are dazzling animated sagas which manage to parody such subjects as zombie films, amusement park rides, and Michael Jackson's "Thriller." In concert at the Hammerstein, the group left the depth to music itself. The players were ensconsed behind a large screen, onto which their cartoon equivlents were projected. If you looked hard, behind the scrim you could see the silhouettes of a bopping Albarn and guest rapper Redman ("down with the Gorillaz like Jane Goodall"). But the real eye candy was an onslaught of iconography. Gorillaz's visuals take in pharmaceuticals references and flashing A&R buzzwords like "Dark Pop" and "Shoot to Ill." Yes, kids, drugs are the subtext of their music and lyrics ( "sunshine in a bag," anyone?) - hardly Rugrats material. And though the group's music is globally accepted, the show's imagery was centered around London. The mournful "Tomorrow Comes Today" depicted the British capital at night, and "Slow Country's" after hours skank played against the Clash chic of tower blocks found south of the Thames. Amid all the flashing lights, animated sunbursts and flying band members, each song held the audience in a somnambulistic grip, only sounding truly anemic on the B-side "Dracula," which came close to sounding like Augustus Pablo if he ran out of weed. Gorillaz flaunted their pop roots for the encore, too. Having stopped the show with the inevitable "Clint Eastwood" and the industrial rush of "5/4" ands its chorus of "She turned my dad on," the group played both tunes again. Redman even reprised his raps right down to the exact syllable. Eminem's rap crew D-12 ruined the mood by storming the stage for "911," a collaboration recorded days after the World Trade Center attacks. Human cartoons just can't compete with the human cartoons, and the group's posturing punctured the pop art fantasia of Hewlett's visuals. D-12's Bizarre bared his ample gut, too, which wasn't quite the tribute New York was looking for. Wipe that memory from your brain and you were left with the night's final slide of the Times Square Coke sign É and all its mass marketing implications. Gorillaz may not be the ultimate pop band, but they have created the ultimate pop brand. The good news is that what's behind the label isn't a scam, but the real thing. |
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