Stagestruck

THE DARKNESS/THE WILDHEARTS
@Stubb's Amphitheater, Austin, TX
April 25, 2004
The big question surrounding the Darkness, at least in rock critic circles, has long been: are they kidding or not? A throwback to the days of crowd-pleasing arena rock bands, though thankfully drawing more on 70s dinosaurs like Boston and Queen than 80s crap like Motley Crüe, the British quartet pulled out all the stops in its Austin junket, with several call-and-response singalongs with the audience, extended guitar solos and frontman Justin Hawkins' cocked-eyebrow humor. I've always defended this band as one which, while acknowledging the inherent silliness of much of its genre, still took what it did seriously, but after this show, I'm not so sure. Hawkins' interaction with the audience bordered on contempt—I could easily imagine a thought balloon over his head that said "Stupid Americans" during his banter. Even worse, these monologues were obvious padding. Joke or not, the plain fact is that the Darkness simply don't have enough quality songs to fill a headline slot. "I Believe in a Thing Called Love," "Love On the Rocks With No Ice" and the genuinely magnificent "Love is Only a Feeling" ("It's power ballad time!" declared Hawkins beforehand, as if to deflate any assumptions that he might give a shit) are pretty much it, unless you favor anthemic pop songs about venereal disease ("Growing On Me"). (Sorry, rock fans, the group's hit "Get Your Hands Off of My Woman" is merely a great riff in search of a song.) Onstage antics are all well and good, especially in front of a sold-out amphitheater crowd, but there needs to be some substance beyond the style, and the Darkness, at this point in its career, barely has it. Quite frankly, by two-thirds of the way through the show I was bored numb.

And, hell, the real reason I was there was to see the Wildhearts. The London quartet's SXSW Emo's show a month prior blew me away, living up to my every expectation from loving their records for so long. (The ones I could find in America, anyway.) I figured the 'hearts would easily blow the Darkness off the stage. In terms of pure musical quality, that was true. Playing almost the exact same set as they did at Emo's, frontman Ginger and pals ripped through soaring anthems ("I Wanna Go Where the People Go," "O.C.D.") and pensive power pop ("Someone Who Won't Let Me Go," "Top of the World") with the perfect combination of tight professionalism and enthusiastic glee, giving their all on songs both old ("Beautiful Thing You," "Greetings From Shitsville") and new ("Vanilla Radio"). Ginger had his own brand of humor working as well, cheekily telling the folks in the back that "You might as well clap now, you're gonna be clapping by the end of the set anyway." (The front rows, in which I was standing, were converted almost immediately.) It was wonderful, except for one thing. About halfway through the set, Ginger tripped over a roadie who'd appeared behind him to adjust a rack tom, falling flat on his face. He responded to this mishap by first smacking said roadie on the back of his head fairly hard, and then throwing his guitar at his employee's retreating back, with the headstock connecting with the poor guy's vertebra. He then went into a meandering rant/plea at the mic that both implored the crowd to get more excited and blamed them for not doing so, before accepting another guitar from the other roadie. Which he promptly threw back when it wasn't tuned to his satisfaction. When he finally got an ax he was happy with, he and the rest of the band picked up right where they left off, with no noticeable loss of momentum, but Ginger's smile was gone and the incident cast a pall over the rest of the set. I'd like to think Ginger was embarrassed by his behavior, but who knows? I don't know what drama may have been going on backstage before the show (or in Ginger's brain), but I do know this: if you're trying to win over a sold-out crowd on your first American tour, throwing a hissyfit on stage due to an accident ain't the way to do it. I still heartily recommend that anyone who hasn't seen the Wildhearts live do so; when they're on, they're one of the best rock & roll bands on the planet. Hopefully you won't have to endure the kind of incident I did, and hopefully said incident will not have any lasting effect on the memories of those who saw the 'hearts for the first time. Michael Toland