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Madison Square Garden, New York March 16, 2001 By C. Bottomley From the back of Madison Square Garden, Matchbox Twenty's Rob Thomas was little more than a blue dot. From the stage of the sold-out arena, however, things had a different perspective. Thomas was agog at the significance of playing at the fabled venue. "Madison Square Garden," he said before his band launched into some proficient radio fodder, "it's like the Super Bowl of rock 'n' roll." So size matters. Although Matchbox Twenty are as unassuming as a blue dot, they have somehow become one of the biggest rock bands in America. It's easy to dismiss their tuneful whining as just that, but to the fans who've put on their best Gap sweaters to make the journey into midtown Manhattan, Matchbox Twenty are whining just for them. And for ordinary guys they keep strange company. Led by the career-driven rocker Art Alexakis, support act Everclear have gone from humble punks to the purveyors of a single tune (essentially "Father of Mine") that has gotten ever more grandiose each time it's recycled. Last year's Songs From an American Movie diptych saw Alexakis score his '70s childhood, gone-bust marriage, and general dissatisfaction with life to either lush orchestration or driving hard rock, depending on which edition of the disc you bought. At 39, Alexakis has been in the game long enough to become a veteran student - and tell the crowd he feels like Led Zeppelin up there. He also had enough chutzpah to start the set with the quiet mandolin-driven title track from his last (two) albums. For Vol. 2's thrashy complaint "Rock Star," he even offered three minutes of fame to a handful of fans who were pulled onstage. The rabble sang along, but might have misheard him when he sneered over the roaring guitars, "I want to sing the songs / That all those little people/ Want to hear." It seems Alexakis has shared those sentiments with the careerist Thomas, though Matchbox Twenty are wise enough not to mess with subtext. Smart move. But you need to fill up the arena with something. While guitarist Kyle Cook showed off the rockier edge of their second album, Mad Season, on the opening salvo of "Crutch" and "Bent," Matchbox Twenty just aren't stars yet. They're simply an OK bar band whose members now have a longer distance to cover when they run from one side of the stage to the other. For all of Thomas' awe at the venue, there was no palpable sense of occasion. And when he sang songs from Yourself or Someone Like You, he reminded you his band are responsible for some of the dreariest hit singles in recent memory. Matchbox Twenty are little people who have sold 12 million albums singing to the little people who bought them, and it's Thomas' very insubstantiality that begs your sympathy when he sings about the girl who kicked him out her car in "Rest Stop." Maybe that accounts for the screaming girls, and how they outsang their hero on the set's closer, Cyndi Lauper's "Time After Time." Rob doesn't smile and spit acid like Alexakis. And although his vocals have the rustic grit of Pearl Jam's Eddie Vedder, he lacks Vedder's wounded-bull charisma. Simply put, he's no threat to anyone. Maybe with a little mothering, Thomas will feel better again. As long as that keeps filling Madison Square Garden, no one else will complain. They just won't be growing much, either. |
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