European Tour 2003
March 17, 2003
In many ways I feel too old and jaded to get excited about the release dates of albums these days. When one of your favourite artists decides to release two albums in one day, though, even a stone-hearted old fool like me can’t help but get excited, and the artist in question this time was Kristin Hersh.
The release of The Grotto would normally have been a momentous occasion for me on its own, but with the added prize of a Throwing Muses album on the same day, it’s no wonder the date has lived on with me. After all, Throwing Muses were a band that originally disbanded in 1997, and I didn’t start to fall in love with them until 1998. Therefore, despite the continual teasing of one-off gigs in America, ever seeing them live just seemed to be a fantasy. At least until late in January, 2003, when Throwing Muses announced that not only was the new album on the way, but they were undertaking the seemingly insane act of playing five dates in Europe.
Once again, the discovery was one of those exciting moments in music that I seem to experience less and less as I get older. Yet there I was, reduced to a nervous wreck, and within seconds I was onto checking flight prices because just one gig wasn’t going to suffice. Admittedly, five was unattainable, but three… Yeah, I could live with three.
March 18, 2003
Just one day after the official release date was the first gig of the tour, and in a small bundle of good fortune it was taking place in Utrecht. Ah, lovely Utrecht, such a happily accessible city and nice place to be. It was such a relief that it wasn’t taking place in Amsterdam, really, though it would be difficult to explain that further without offending anyeone.
Anyway, through a series of events, the day was spent mainly in Utrecht, walking casually past the Tivoli to see what was happening, scouring record shops for the two CDs (believe it or not, early distribution wasn’t high so most of them weren’t even stocking it yet), and generally just wishing time would pass faster. The latter didn’t happen, though. In fact, so much time was spent waiting before the concert that it started to take the shine off of the event. It wasn’t helped that there was no support act and that the Tivoli DJ was in the mood for an evening of ‘80s German goth, as if he had some secret plan to torture the ten of us who were actually in the venue at the time. It really felt like hours were passing, and as it happened, they were.
At around 9.35pm, Throwing Muses finally took to the stage and ended my suffering. I think if anything, I felt an initial period of shock and at first it just seemed quite surreal. I had so much hope riding on the concert that it could all have gone horribly wrong. Thankfully it didn’t, but it remained a strange and unexpected ride.
Starting on ‘Pandora’s Box’, it felt like a weird way to kick off the tour. The majority of the audience didn’t know it since it was so new, and it takes over a minute to really burst into life. So while I was expecting Throwing Muses to kick off the tour with something sharp that grapples for your attention, they only pushed open the door gently and asked if it was okay to come in. Politeness is nice enough, but the situation wasn’t being helped by the lack of vocals in the mix. They were there in my head of course, but down in front of the stage it was threatening to become guitar karaoke.
The concert was still special, though, and there are a few memories that stand out more than just the music. Firstly, it was just insane standing two feet from Kristin Hersh. I’ve been up close at her concerts before, but never in a setting like this. Being the Tivoli there was no crush barrier, so I really was leaning on the stage. Therefore, not only was I right next to Kristin but I was directly below her. If you’ve ever seen her perform, you should be familiar with the icy, distant glare, and the intensity of her performance. Well, when she’s towering over you and you are staring up into the back of her throat, it takes on a totally new light.
Secondly, it was so insanely loud. I was literally reduced to cowering from those two shiny, new Fender amps that were blasting out. They were so powerful and demanding that I was attempting to duck my head behind her monitor in order to shield myself from them.
Those two factors did culminate in me focussing more and more on Bernard Georges, though. In fact, it was simply to stunning to watch him play bass. Sounding so completely solid throughout, yet having to work incredibly hard to pull off. A fact that was obvious when he could no longer hide his delight when he appeared to play the impossible during the outro of ‘Bright Yellow Gun’. Then as the ending of ‘Speed and Sleep’ was being pounded out, the fuzz bass was as heavy and dangerous as any bassline I’ve ever experienced at a concert. That was the moment which stamped the gig as forever memorable.
Yes, the band was rusty and under-rehearsed. A couple of times they had to stop songs because they hadn’t worked out how to play them yet. It was also the case that the gig ended way too soon, and the sound quality was rough as hell. If I didn’t know each of those songs so well then it would have been difficult to embrace them, but I did. So I went home happy and prepared for Stage Two because things could only keep improving.
March 19, 2003
Without wasting much time, it was off to Brussels. Having never been there before, it promised to be an adventure, and with the traffic jams, warm weather, and just mind bogglingly chaotic Belgian drivers, it was proving more of a nightmare. I’m told that Brussels is a lovely place to visit, but after numerous loops of the centre of town while trying to find the parking garage, we were emitting too much hatred to stop and care.
However, I will confess that the Ancienne Belgique is a pretty smart venue. It’s just a shame that there was no support act again. The sound engineer did try and help by playing a copy of The Grotto in an effort to please the fans of Kristin, but it’s a slow and dark piece of work, and to be honest, by the third rotation, it doesn’t have you in such a great frame of mind for a rock concert. The pretty fairy lights all around the room were also a nice idea, but some consideration should be made in the future because they also make you terribly woozy if you move your eyes too much.
Eventually, just as in Utrecht, everything kicked off with ‘Pandora’s Box’. It was still a little uneasy, and it was to be the last time it would sit in first place, but it’s only a negative if you’re being really picky. And at least the sound quality was a little better, as I had made the effort to stand just a little further back and enjoy the noise from the PA and not just the stage this time. Kristin certainly doesn’t have a shy voice and when she screams, you’re going to take notice, but it was still starting to feel like the audio equipment in Europe couldn’t handle this brand new guitar rig as well as it should have.
Despite a slightly sharper set, which was weighted earlier on to more familiar material, the Belgian audience was almost too respectful. They stood like statues and were silenced between songs as if it was a school assembly. In fact, if it was a school assembly, there would have been more noise. I know I’m normally complaining about talkative audiences, and I’m not the most talkative person at gigs myself as I would rather focus on the stage, but still, the Belgian hush was just a little unsettling.
On the bright side, the band was slightly more warmed up, with a few nice setlist additions and the rather unusual ending to the second encore, which was ‘Snakeface’. Apart from that there are no major rushes in my memory. It was a pleasant gig by one of my favourite bands, but it didn’t move the earth like I had expected. Even the fuzz bass seemed more restrained, so the late night drive back to Rotterdam was laced with satisfaction (give or take the odd gripe about shortness of set once more), but not buzzing with excitement.
March 23, 2003
It’s time to fast forward a few days, and after a relatively simple Easyjet flight from Amsterdam to Glasgow, I was back “home”. Having bypassed the expensive London and Dublin dates, it was the final night of the tour, and supposedly things had picked up once they hit the UK. Originally it was the date I had been looking forward to least, yet now there was a greater importance in it, knowing this was probably already the last time I would see this band live, and feeling like I hadn’t received all the joy I deserved yet.
Fortunately, alcohol played a minor fun part early in the evening, easing it in to an interesting social circumstance. Throwing Muses may be the mostly-forgotten heroes of indie-rock, often trapped in the shadows of the Pixies by the present day media, however, there’s no denying the loyalty of a Muses fan. It’s a cross between desire, obligation, and mental illness really, and it makes you follow this band wherever they play, so I had already met a number of the hardcore sect at the first two shows, and more of them had shown up for Glasgow. It meant that the build-up to the show wasn’t quite as dire as the first two, and lo and behold, there was even a support act at the QMU.
I’d bad-mouthed Sons and Daughters frequently before they played, being put off by the Arab Strap connection that was being dragged behind them. I’ve got to give them credit, though, because it really wasn’t bad. They showed a lot of promise and the music even fitted the style of the evening, which was more unusual. The audience seemed impressed, and the band seemed happy to be supporting Throwing Muses. How strange, yet mildly pleasing.
Then after a stage re-jig and around 20 guitar tunings later, Throwing Muses were back in my life. ‘Furious’, ‘Shark’, ‘Start’, and ‘Bea’ blasting out, finally giving an audience what they wanted – songs they knew and loved. It was a brutal onslaught of music but it was wonderful. The band finally playing as well as they’d ever done and an audience roaring with appreciation. So much energy was being exuded and it was being channelled right back by the band.
Then Kristin Hersh says, “This song is for Dermot,” before letting loose on ‘Solar Dip’. For those who don’t know, that’s the same Dermot who contributes to Stayfun, and it’s worth writing here because it’s such a lovely reminder that it only takes five words from your idol to throw you back to being a completely stunned teenager looking up at the stage in awe.
The gig went on and it mainly got wilder. Small mosh pits were breaking out during the new songs (well they are heavy and fast), leaving the older members of the audience looking quite terrified. Then there was the hysteria of ‘Bright Yellow Gun’, their ‘Losing My Religion’ of the night. It may not be their best song, but it’s one of the most well-known and loved, and tonight was when it sparked and started to feel special again, even for me.
As previous nights, the concert was ended with a dual encore, this time consisting of ‘Vicky’s Box’, ‘Mania’ and ‘Pearl’, and if anything the sound quality had deteriorated a little by then, not helped by the continual ferocity of that Gibson SG and those Fender amps. Admittedly there was also a little sadness watching Bernard Georges and David Narcizo pulverizing the rhythm in ‘Pearl’ knowing that I may never see it again. This was what Throwing Muses were always supposed to be like, though: completely pulverizing and blowing me away with every move. Not only was the intensity and connection there, but it was fun, exciting, exhausting, and just like a dream coming true.
By the end the band seemed just as dazzled by their reception, and no doubt it was difficult for them to walk away too. Of course, they didn’t have the help of the QMU security guards who may as well have used cattle prods. Thanks to that, we ended up sitting outside on a stone wall, opposite the tour bus, in what was an exceptionally chilly spring night in Glasgow; the cold eventually washing away the fun from the occasion, which was turning slightly hopeless thanks to the licensing laws of Glasgow, and it being a Sunday night.
Eventually, the band made their way towards the bus, with a very small baby strapped tight to the chest of Mr Billy O’Connell, husband of Kristin, and manager. We smiled and waved meekly, hoping not to appear scary I guess, and even being quiet so as not to wake the baby. They get on the bus, and simply we disperse. No drama. Not even any conversations or demanding of attention. We are British after all. Just a very discreet and low-key ending to the week, as it had begun in Utrecht.
It shall remain a memorable adventure, though, and no matter what Kristin Hersh does with her musical career, I got to see the Muses. I can’t ask for more than that.
Steven McCarron
Photo: Strange Heaven
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