Tuesday, January 27, 1998
Stage
MUSIC The Jesus Lizard concert signals the diminishing
popularity of the grunge and alternative scene
By Vanessa VanderZanden
Daily Bruin Staff
Sometimes, bands live to a certain degree off of a scene that no
longer needs to exist. Yet, once the movement has passed, the
groups stick around indefinitely, though audiences have long since
grown sick of their passe antics. These musicians find themselves
lost in a world that no longer has space for them, falling faster
and faster into a whirlpool of publicly embarrassing shows.
Take for instance The Jesus Lizard, a grunge-punk band that
found notoriety in 1995 for an indecent exposure arrest during the
Lollapalooza tour. The Chicago band doesn’t have a large fan base,
for it’s mainly a product of hype through college radio and their
own publicists. But, with the aggressive alt-rock tour circuit
dwindling because virtually no "successful" artists make the club
rounds these days, this is what fans of this more thrash-friendly
alternative rock sound had to look forward to as far as a live show
went.
Like a mixture of stale coffee grinds and moldy cat food
decomposing in the kitchen garbage, The Jesus Lizard stunk up The
Roxy last Friday night. Amidst a packed house of Rainbow Room
rough-housers and black-beanied hip cats, the four musicians
stumbled over one incoherent, mediocre song after the next. Stuck
in second gear all night, the muddy guitar riffs failed to pull the
gargled tunes out from behind the wall of over-amplification.
In many ways, the performance reflected the sad state of grunge
rock which, in recent months, has crumbled into a rapid decline. No
longer do the wails of such acts as Soundgarden and Alice in Chains
create such a stir, while even groups like Stone Temple Pilots have
opted for a slicker, more retro-lounge style attitude. In the
current mainstream market, the likes of Britpop artists and techno
influenced beats have filled the place of the disgruntled,
angst-filled bar room mentality that once reigned supreme.
Many wondered whether those donning black Jesus Lizard shirts
came for the show or just to experience the joy that is fake fog
machines, after their billowy chemicals began to leave their first
traces of residue upon the hair and arms. After all, they never
danced or bobbed their heads in satisfaction. Even the pit crowd
seemed relatively comatose, despite the large number of supporters
made readily available to accommodate the tactless whims of lead
singer, David Yow.
Yow, incidentally, took no time between his initial stage
appearance and the end of his first song before utilizing the
crammed pit for his own performing purposes. Flinging himself
sloppily into the crowd, he rode the waves of flesh and bone while
attempting to yell out lyrics as uncouthly as an irate neighbor
whose complaints become muffled in the property-dividing ivy.
Yow’s submergence in the accommodating masses lacked the young
punk rebel quality that a spunkier front man could have pulled off.
In Yow’s case, the stage dive, which would be the first of many
equally unimaginative leaps, merely appeared to be the stumbling
action of an aging drunk.
By the second song’s gaining tempo, The Jesus Lizard seemed
capable of exploring the genre of rock grunge in a more revealing
context. Yet, the brawling rasp of Yow’s untrained voice clashed
with the rest of his entourage as harshly as his pale, pink chest
did with his opened greenish shirt. Unlike the immediacy present in
such poorly throated vocalizations as those of Johnny Rotten or
Axel Rose, Yow’s lack of artistry merely felt messy and
unprofessional, producing limp applause from less than half of the
unimpressed audience at song’s end.
As the set of modestly rendered songs ranged from standard rock
to a darkly toned grumble, Yow never failed to throw off the mood.
Both bassist and guitarist looked off in feigned appreciation of
the performer’s unruly contributions, which often borderlined
between a confused bark and a gurgling howl. Meanwhile, the
shirtless drummer rolled around in a flood of sweat, banging away
beats while his lower lip protruded grotesquely like some
over-grown, brain-eaten crack baby.
The best moments were in the beginning portions of several songs
wherein the dark and twangy bass slipped in some menacing
foreground notes. Also, the fact that Yow’s "rebellious" suggestion
that the audience "go for it" and "smoke everywhere" incited not
one person to light up as offered, a comical twist to the
struggling evening. And, Yow’s parting words, before the encore,
concerning his desire to not return to "this fucking state again"
or something, because of the new smoking laws barring cigarettes
from clubs, provided yet another equally humorous moment in the
bored audience’s apathetic response.
Through most of the show, the majority of the crowd seemed to be
zoned out in a different place entirely, not the slightest bit
concerned with The Jesus Lizard’s blase performance. They thought
of what they’d do 10 minutes after waking up the next morning,
which of their clothes needed to be taken to the cleaners, and what
brand of toilet paper they should get next time they hit
Ralph’s.
It was sort of like bad sex – when it would be rude to leave
after you’ve already gotten into the main event and yet, it turns
out to be just something you have to sit through before the rest of
your life can happen. You applaud afterwards, but just out of
courtesy. After all, the other party is putting itself on the line
with their "big performance."