Purr Snickety
03-27-2003, 08:34 AM
Zwan doesn't spark crowd
BEN RAYNER
POP MUSIC CRITIC
The Smashing Pumpkins still cast a long, caped shadow, but Billy Corgan has done a respectable job of stepping clear of the wreckage with his new band, Zwan.
While it's not that much of a musical stretch, there's a welcome levity and brisk, ringing tunefulness to Mary, Star Of The Sea, Zwan's recent recorded debut, that makes it a far more appealing piece of work than the Pumpkins' cold, humourless last couple of albums. The pouty Corgan is likewise oozing good cheer both in song and in person these days, even going so far as to ditch his customary black turtleneck during Tuesday night's sold-out Zwan stop at Kool Haus for a garish, patterned sweater straight out of Jim Carrey's ski-chalet fantasy in Dumb & Dumber.
It's nice to see the big lug with a grin on his face. And who wouldn't be grinning, really, if each night brought another chance to jam with this extraordinarily talented ensemble of players — Pumpkins drummer Jimmy Chamberlin, Slint/Tortoise guitarist David Pajo, Chavez guitarist Matt Sweeney and A Perfect Circle bassist Paz Lenchantin — in front of deferential, built-in audiences from city to city around North America? Good times, no doubt.
It was a different story on the Kool Haus floor, however, where neither the positive vibes nor much melody at all could penetrate pronounced audience apathy and a thick, roaring sound mix that muffled everything but the rhythm section and Corgan's brittle whine — an acquired taste, perhaps, but still not enough to carry Zwan's tunes on its own — and turned the band's entire set list into a featureless bore.
"How's the sound out there?" Corgan asked at once, to hearty cheers that confirmed suspicions hardly anyone in the subdued, hands-in-pockets crowd really knew what they were listening to (at least until the single "Honestly" appeared, to a half-hearted facsimile of enthusiasm, late in the set).
The Pumpkins were infamous for the same inability to reproduce the pristine sonics of their studio recordings on stage, but at least they had the metallic heft of Corgan's darker material to fall back on. Comparatively dainty Zwan songs like "Lyric" and the gliding New Order tributes "El Sol" and "Settle Down" require at least some mid-range, some detail, in a live mix to be appreciated. During "Declarations Of Faith," only Pajo's atmospheric guitar fills were audible amidst a blur of stifled, low-end fuzz, while the other two guitars were gobbled up along with the song's elated, rise-and-fall hooks by the dull rush of mud emanating from the PA. It was a waste of some decent songs, although there were moments of clarity — usually, curiously, during meandering jams that allowed Corgan (though rarely Sweeney or Pajo) repeated opportunities to show off his arena-rock guitar chops.
A genteel cover of the Beatles' "Don't Let Me Down" devoid of the original's gruff catharsis, meanwhile, coaxed a blip of enthusiasm from the room, but did little to alleviate a serious case of the doldrums. By the time Lenchantin's violin came out for a run of mix-mauled slow numbers, the crowd was visibly thinning out and one got the feeling that those who stayed were doing so out of duty. Maybe next time, Billy.
http://www.thestar.com/NASApp/cs/ContentServer?pagename=thestar/Layout/Article_Type1&c=Article&cid=1035779958357&call_pageid=968867495754&col=969483191630
BEN RAYNER
POP MUSIC CRITIC
The Smashing Pumpkins still cast a long, caped shadow, but Billy Corgan has done a respectable job of stepping clear of the wreckage with his new band, Zwan.
While it's not that much of a musical stretch, there's a welcome levity and brisk, ringing tunefulness to Mary, Star Of The Sea, Zwan's recent recorded debut, that makes it a far more appealing piece of work than the Pumpkins' cold, humourless last couple of albums. The pouty Corgan is likewise oozing good cheer both in song and in person these days, even going so far as to ditch his customary black turtleneck during Tuesday night's sold-out Zwan stop at Kool Haus for a garish, patterned sweater straight out of Jim Carrey's ski-chalet fantasy in Dumb & Dumber.
It's nice to see the big lug with a grin on his face. And who wouldn't be grinning, really, if each night brought another chance to jam with this extraordinarily talented ensemble of players — Pumpkins drummer Jimmy Chamberlin, Slint/Tortoise guitarist David Pajo, Chavez guitarist Matt Sweeney and A Perfect Circle bassist Paz Lenchantin — in front of deferential, built-in audiences from city to city around North America? Good times, no doubt.
It was a different story on the Kool Haus floor, however, where neither the positive vibes nor much melody at all could penetrate pronounced audience apathy and a thick, roaring sound mix that muffled everything but the rhythm section and Corgan's brittle whine — an acquired taste, perhaps, but still not enough to carry Zwan's tunes on its own — and turned the band's entire set list into a featureless bore.
"How's the sound out there?" Corgan asked at once, to hearty cheers that confirmed suspicions hardly anyone in the subdued, hands-in-pockets crowd really knew what they were listening to (at least until the single "Honestly" appeared, to a half-hearted facsimile of enthusiasm, late in the set).
The Pumpkins were infamous for the same inability to reproduce the pristine sonics of their studio recordings on stage, but at least they had the metallic heft of Corgan's darker material to fall back on. Comparatively dainty Zwan songs like "Lyric" and the gliding New Order tributes "El Sol" and "Settle Down" require at least some mid-range, some detail, in a live mix to be appreciated. During "Declarations Of Faith," only Pajo's atmospheric guitar fills were audible amidst a blur of stifled, low-end fuzz, while the other two guitars were gobbled up along with the song's elated, rise-and-fall hooks by the dull rush of mud emanating from the PA. It was a waste of some decent songs, although there were moments of clarity — usually, curiously, during meandering jams that allowed Corgan (though rarely Sweeney or Pajo) repeated opportunities to show off his arena-rock guitar chops.
A genteel cover of the Beatles' "Don't Let Me Down" devoid of the original's gruff catharsis, meanwhile, coaxed a blip of enthusiasm from the room, but did little to alleviate a serious case of the doldrums. By the time Lenchantin's violin came out for a run of mix-mauled slow numbers, the crowd was visibly thinning out and one got the feeling that those who stayed were doing so out of duty. Maybe next time, Billy.
http://www.thestar.com/NASApp/cs/ContentServer?pagename=thestar/Layout/Article_Type1&c=Article&cid=1035779958357&call_pageid=968867495754&col=969483191630