WHO: Muse

WHEN: May 10. 2004

WHERE: The Commodore

HIGHT POINT: Just one?

LOW POINT: Huge time gap between acts.

Muse blew my fucking mind. End of story.

That was to be my review on the night Muse played here and at the time, it seemed perfectly reasonable to leave it at that. But then I realized that, as straightforward and direct as that statement was, it could not come even close to describing the range of emotions that concert goers so obviously felt whilst watching the English trio weave their carefully executed web of melodic magic, impressively spun with hard-hitting riffs and immensely resonant rhythms. After replaying some of the musical moments in my head and humming along to Matthew Bellamy's angelic and highly emotive voice, I realized that my one sentence would not be enough to explain everything and so, after much deliberation, I added this:

If you don't believe me, then see them for yourself and you will understand what it is to have your fucking mind blown.

But then, that's not entirely reasonable either now is it? Neither is walking home from the venue, desperately trying to pick something up from rapidly scattering Muse fans and poring over exactly what to say, over how to word what was easily one of the best live performances that I have ever had the pleasure of seeing into a review that would actually make sense. You see it's just not like me to be so easily enamored by a band whose genre isn't exactly spilling out of the figurative edge of my ipod. I'm a punk girl at heart and if you give me the choice between a fast hard-hitting beat like that of Refused or a more trance-like melodic sounding band in the vein of Radiohead, nine times out of ten I'll take in a punk show. That night, however, I felt fortunate that I acted upon that one tenth of a percentile and took in the Muse show even though it took me some time to sort out what in this particular live show had so acutely bent my vision of what a good band must at all times represent. So how is it that Muse somehow and quite forcefully I might add, pushed their way through? And how could I, knowing this, have even attempted to relay it to the reader? And then it came to me in the form of a muse lyric of all things "our time is running out and our time is running out, you can't push it underground, we can't stop it screaming out."

They began the show with festival-style grandeur, all of them bathed in purple neon lights and dry ice, lending to the ever-present mystique that makes them look so appealing to the crowd and not to mention, much larger than life. For a band, which I had previously shrugged off as being "too emotionally melodic," they nearly knocked me clear off my feet with how intense their sound was. From the onset, they came out swinging their rather large musical bats and instantly destroyed the silence of the ballroom, opening with the aptly named Hysteria and hitting one out of the ballpark with it so to speak. The crowd who had been waiting an extra half an hour (The Commodore is synonymous with late starts) went nuts and I was nearly airborne for a moment until I caught my footing on the spring-loaded floor. It was not the mosh pit that I have grown so accustomed to over the years but the energy was running to a fevered pitch and it was great fun. I was impressed with how many people knew the words to the songs and were singing along or were enthusiastically dancing with whoever would oblige.

If it was Muse's goal to grasp on to new listeners and turn them into die-hard fans, then it was mission accomplished. Their live show is very much a game of highs and lows, an emotional roller coaster in which the audience gets to experience every emotion known to man. We were led through periods of joy, happiness, sadness, anger, fear and confusion. All of the songs that were performed were presented as if they were rare gems--Hysteria, New Born, The Small Print, Sing For Absolution, Muscle Museum, Citizen Erased, Ruled By Secrecy, Sunburn, Butterflies and Hurricanes, Bliss, Time Is Running Out, Plug In Baby, Apocalypse Please and Stockholm Syndrome. With such a beautifully intense set, I'd be hard pressed to single out a favorite moment but I can say this... Most bands have a hard time capturing their sound on CD and translating it to a live setting but with Muse, the opposite is true. Their CD does not even come close to encapsulating what the talented trio is capable of during their live show. Not even close.

Muse is able to bring their fans to an emotional level, which in this era, few bands are able to achieve and they are the type of band that makes you wish you had paid more attention in music class. It seems perfectly normal to me, if the morning after a Muse show, you suddenly feel compelled to sing vocal warm-ups in the shower to see if you too might, by some freak accident be able to hit those heavenly, unattainable high notes, which Matthew so effortlessly unleashes night after night on tour. Undoubtedly, you will have those contagious melodies in your head for days and will have to release them somehow. My advice to you is to skip the punk records for a few days and 'sing for absolution.'

 

One question remains unanswered. How does Matt shuffle his feet from one side of the stage to the other as if mimicking a ride on a conveyor belt? If anyone has the answer to that, please let me know.

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Out of 6 pandas, this show rates: