 review other gig
|
 New York, NY - Irving Plaza December 8, 1998 Americana In Action I really wanted to hate the Offspring. After a dreadful day at work following a particularly wicked weekend, what the hell was I doing dragging my brittle bones out yet again, to a sold-out slacker summit of all things, when what I truly needed was to put in some serious couch time. As if you couldn't tell, I've never been a big Offspring fan. I always considered them to be a poor punk's Nirvana, who've never been raving faves of mine either. But at least Kurt Cobain and his boys had some sincere inner rage and haunted passion that sadly could not co-exist with mass K-market success. The Offspring constantly come off as a goofy gang of suburban skaters, too dumb to realize that punk rock is finally, mercifully over. Still? Maybe there is something more to the Offspring than mass popularity and recycled Seattle riffs. Besides, it had been a while since I'd had a chance to really slag a band and was looking forward to spewing some literary venom on these pretenders to Cobain's thronish crown. So with these sunshiny thoughts in mind, here I was slouching at the Irving Plaza's overpriced bar, smirking into my Wild Turkey and ginger ale at the hundreds of baggy pants wearing, multi-pierced, fuzzy faced eighth graders, who'd spent their Burger World paychecks to get a glimpse of their hard core heroes, on a school night no less! "Now, here's something that everyone can enjoy, the Offspring," announced surprise emcee Larry "Bud" Mellman from the David Letterman show to introduce Orange County, California's most successful export. The crowd got real loud, the building buckled and the Offspring, in the city to support their new CD, Americana, took the stage and proceeded to mosh through an hour and a half of hits from their five album career, all to the gleeful squeals, screams and stage dives of their adolescent audience. Americana is the Offspring's sophomore CD for their new major label bosses at Columbia and follows up 1997's multi-platinum Ixnay on the Hombre and 1994's ridiculously successful (and prophetically titled) Smash which moved almost 11 MILLION units worldwide, according to the band's bio. If the Irving Plaza crowd's chain reaction to new songs "Pretty Fly (for a White Guy)" and "Why Don't You Get a Job" are accurate indications Americana won't be seen in the cutout bin, nor will Dexter (vocals), Noodles (guitar), Greg (bass) and Ron (drums) be spotted slacking in an unemployment line anytime soon. The new songs are as familiar as the old ones, but with just enough new jokes and rhythmic experimentation to keep the band's devoted descendants returning for more with the innate intensity of salmon slamdancing their way upstream. As I said at the start of this would be tirade, I was anxiously anticipating dismissing the Offspring as a bunch of rich punk rock numbskulls with no reason to complain about a world which is making them ever wealthier. However, as the gig roared on, the band's balance of blitzkrieg energy and wise ass fun somehow drew me inexplicably from the cozy smugness of my corner of the bar and into the crush hour mosh pit of post pubescent shoulder shoving, butt bumping and heavy sweating. Generally, one must get caught in the change of periods at a Junior High School to indulge in jostling of this caliber. Sometimes, I wonder if the house rocks this way because of a united catharsis between the distorted guitars (no solos please, that'd be too corporate) bomb blast drums and lyrics that relate to each tortured teenage soul individually and to the misfit mob as a whole, or is it just something the moppet mongrels learned from watching MTV? But, if even a cynical sod like myself can be reeled into the riot, at great risk to both limb and Heineken, there must have been something genuine about the buzz electrifying the room. Adding to the surprisingly positive spirit of the night, Dexter challenged the crowd to carry him surf style to the sound man at the back of the room and damn it, they almost got him there. That's no small accomplishment considering his "all Americana" sized frame and the tiny arms that were holding him up. A few more amped up anthems followed and it was time for a quick "intermission." Latin mariachi music played and Dexter doused the thirsty throng with bottles of water and bursts from a fire extinguisher. What a guy. Now if the extinguisher had been filled with Budweiser, I'd have been really impressed! After breaktime, the Offspring offered up "Keep 'Em Separated", their biggest hit of both pit and radio and as the urchins erupted yet again, I had to wonder as I held my ground, four bodies from the stage, "Who are these people, and why are we passing them over our heads?" Actually, the most injury defying portion of the whole night occurred at the very end of the show after the final encore and the house lights came up. Roadies came out on stage throwing copies of the new CD to the crowd and in the process turning Irving Plaza into a whirlpool of punk rock piranhas. The Offspring will probably never be my cup of Long Island Iced Tea, but now having seen them in high attitude action, I gotta give 'em credit. They're damn good at what they do, which is giving their fans the rebellious release they came for and maybe even a little bit more. Dexter's like an older brother who's found a way through the trauma of being a misunderstood suburban kid with nothing to do and nowhere to go. He's onstage to show that they can make it too. And if they happen to buy a few million copies of the Offspring's new CD while they're at it, so much the better! Now that's Americana in action. By Spyder Darling, from NY Rock |
