News 910715-1

From SPLRA
Revision as of 14:14, 23 October 2005 by 70.225.184.115 (talk)
(diff) ← Older revision | Latest revision (diff) | Newer revision → (diff)
Jump to navigation Jump to search

The Smashing Pumpkins bid farewell to Chicago with two shows this week; one on Wednesday at the United Center, the other at Metro on Saturday. It seems like just yesterday they were at New York's New Music Seminar, taking the place by storm along with fellow hometown rockers Urge Overkill. Tribune rock critic Greg Kot re-creates the scene below.

If there were any doubts about whether Chicago bands the Smashing Pumpkins and Urge Overkill had arrived on the international music scene, they were demolished this week at the 12th annual New Music Seminar. . . .

Its cavelike, graffiti-scarred interior turned into a sauna by the tightly packed bodies and humid weather, CBGB's is less a club than a glorified garage.

Yet the sweat-soaked claustrophobic conditions seemed only to enhance both bands' performances. . . . The Pumpkins were typically dour as they took the stage early Tuesday morning.

"We don't do requests," singer Billy Corgan curtly informed the crowd as several fans shouted for their favorites.

But the quartet's utter lack of humor only enhanced the aggression implied in their music.

Corgan was a charismatic presence, his round, cherubic face framed by flowing curls as he attacked every song with what seemed to be deep-seated hostility.

Frequently, the music would fall to a near hush, guided only by an a cappella voice or a solitary baseline, then surge back with tidal-wave fury. At various times it aspired to the insinuating sensuality of T. Rex, the psychedelic wallop of Jimi Hendrix and the mind-blowing bombast of Led Zeppelin.

Despite the enveloping presence of Corgan, the Pumpkins functioned as a band rather than a star vehicle. Bassist D'Arcy, outfitted in black lingerie, played with eyes closed in solemn concentration while complementing the swirling, nearly jazzlike drumming of Jimmy Chamberlin.

The guitars of Corgan and James Iha blended softer lyrical passages with groaning distortion and churning rhythms that ignited an orgy of slam-dancing during such tunes as "I Am One" -- a refreshing display of audience participation and enthusiasm in a seminar notable for the jadedness of many of its participants.

As the Pumpkins exited, Corgan held his guitar aloft like the sword Excalibur, then turned up the amplifier so that ear-splitting feedback rained down on the exhausted, cheering crowd.

It was a fitting, final gesture from a band that has become expert at assaulting, and occasionally altering, the senses.