SHRIEK ATTACK!

SHRIEK ATTACK!

SHANE COMES BACK!

AEROSMITH/TED NUGENT Madison Square Garden, New York

April 8, 1986

Toby Goldstein

{It s here, because you asked font! Yep, it’s concert coverage—a feature you’ll be seeing in METAL from now on, as we take you front row to the zestiest concerts in concertdom. So read, enjoy and send us many, many letters of congratulations, OK? Then—and we’re not kidding—if you want to send us an account of your favorite concert, send it to us in all its splendor. V\/e ’ll print the most interesting, best-written accounts—and perhaps even compensate the writer.

So what do some not-so-poor boys do when they play in rock ’n’ roll bands and they know that the chops are still potent but the cold, cruel world has been wondering where the glory has gone...? Well, if we’re talking about shy, retiring folks like Ted Nugent or the Aerosmith gang, first they record “comeback” albums to vinylize the goods; then they ply their wares in concert, together, in Arenaville U.S.A., which in this case was that bastion of metal mania, New York’s Madison Square Garden.

The bad news is, the date wasn’t sold out, which either rocker would have been able to pull off on their own if this had been 1976. The good news is, the number of unsold tickets must have been very, very few, because the mass of cheering humanity issued roars loud enough to shake the subway hurtling underneath the hall off its tracks (not that such things don’t happen every day around here, but that’s another excerpt from the Naked City).

Billed as special guest, the Nuge bounded onto the stage precisely at 8 p.m., and didn’t waste a second affirming his delight at playing New York for the first time in several years. Hair flying, Ted looked suitably demure in shades, a soon-discarded jacket, red sneakers, and a gray jersey all-in-one cut perilously close to his wango. Nugent, at center stage, was flanked on either side by eight Marshalls, which were projected so loudly as to approach pain level and, for at least half Ted’s set, to completely obliterate any recognition of his vocals.

Nugent’s considerable athletic talents made for fun viewing as he raced up and down a platform built over the wall of amps, creating a perfect unleashed accompaniment to the relentless push of songs like “Free For AH’’ and “Crazy Ladies,’’ the latter one of several numbers showcased from Little Miss Dangerous. Unfortunately the ladies must have been a little too crazy, because right in the middle of this tune—during which Cliff Davies’s drums could’ve tipped the Richter scale—the PA died. 18,000 headbangers were not amused. Ted was downright pissed off. For a while, the band—which also includes guitarist Dave Amato and bassist Dave Kiswiney, both decent vocalists in their own right— bravely carried on with a blues jam. But with no mikes for close to 15 minutes, Ted grew discouraged, plopping himself at the front of the stage and vowing not to budge until everything was fixed.

Despite the crowd’s frustration, one couldn’t help but respect Nugent for not running away from trouble, but instead, talking it through. Ironically, when full power was finally restored, the sound became far cleaner and more listenable. Vowing to dismember “the asswipe responsible” for the screw-up, Nugent accepted a fresh guitar from a ravishing brunette in a white teddy and stockings (it’s a tough life, guys), then closed his set with the new album’s title track, a runaway version of the blues chestnut, “Baby Please Don’t Go,” and a pair of classic Nugent cutups, “Cat Scratch Fever” and “Wang Dang Sweet Poontang.” Classy to the end, our Ted made his departure carrying off the dark-haired honey, after which they discussed philosophy over glasses of lemonade, I have no doubt.

Banking on the hope that Done With Mirrors would re-establish their superstar stature of the 1970s, Aerosmith didn’t pinch any pennies in creating an onstage event. A portable stage set was illuminated by hundreds of tiny runway lights, including a huge “A” which could either stand upright or be angled to allow a player to run across. Additionally, Joey Kramer performed on a revolving drum platform. Yet, glittery stage setup aside, Aerosmith proved to be short on gimmicks and long on rambunctious, unvarnished rock ’n’ roll. Rooted in the fundamentals of English ’60s rgck and American '60’s R&B, the band has never strayed far from that variety of tailwagging, tangy smart talk, and this show was no exception. Old blueswailers like “Walkin’ The Dog” and “Big Ten Inch” rubbed elbows with new rockers “My Fist, Your Face” and the group's latest single, the ballady “Shela.”

But during their first years of stardom, Aerosmith’s stage performances suffered badly compared to the melting purity of recorded hits like “Walk This Way” or “Toys In The Attic.” Vocalist Steve Tyler and lead guitarist Joe Perry (you could call ’em Mick and Keith back then) were often (deliberately?) sloppy, and Steve, he by whom microphone-schlepping will be forever judged, was a klutz. All the scarves and drapery in the world whirling around his wafery body couldn’t disguise a failure to coordinate.

Well haven’t we come a long way, baby. The reunion of Aerosmith’s original lineup has apparently done wonders for their motivation. Tyler’s vocals were a snippet scratchier than in days of yore (what other singer is silly enough to light a butt during a tune?) but he stayed on key—and could even dance a cute little jig around the mike stand from time to time. When Tyler moved, it was with delicacy and charm, and when he twirled the mike stand, there was control at the helm, rather than an unscheduled crash landing in the orchestra pit.

Joe Perry, too, touted his clean bill of health with a studied yet crunching version of Jimi Hendrix’s “Red House,” taking ample opportunity to trade leads with Brad Whitford. This was obviously a band who knew exactly what perils awaited them when they didn’t all pull together, and what glorious adventures awaited them when they did. The emotions were very sweet, indeed.

So what really became two legends most? They just let their wangos do the tango when they walked this way and that meant— especially for Aerosmith—that the music didn’t just talk. It howled.

THE RUSHIANS ARE COMING

RUSH/MARILLION

Brendan Byrne Arena, New Jersey

March 31, 1986

Ida S. Langsam

I should have known the evening was going to be sabotaged when—thanks to the ever-inefficient New York subway system—I was 25 minutes late to meet my ride out to the arena with an editor of Circus magazine. Maybe because he knew I was reviewing the show for METAL, he purposely made sure we parked the car as far away from the arena as possible! We were further delayed by having to wait for his friend to change out of his “Payne Webber work clothes” into jeans and a sweatshirt, so that by the time we trecked over walkways and parking lots strewn with empty beer bottles and cans, Marillion were already on stage and 20 minutes into their opening set.

I’ve been fascinated with Marillion for the last few years. Initially, the band were categorized as a progressive/rock group in the fine British tradition of Genesis, Gentle Giant and Yes. Then European magazines like England’s Kerrang! started picking up on lead singer Fish in his bizarre and elaborately patterned face makeup, and there emerged a new, heavy metal aura about the band. Most recently, Marillion have enjoyed increased radio play with their hits/singles “Kayleigh” and “Lavender.” The visual exposure on MTV via videos has once again altered the perception of the group to a pop/rock entity. It’s no wonder, then, that Marillion’s audience is so confused about what the band are about in concert.

Apparently, the group opened their set with “Kayleigh,” which I was disappointed to have missed. From our seats, the sound of the rest of the songs was muddy and the vocals lacked clarity, making one song almost indistinguishable from another. My main impression was that Marillion onstage are most like the first image we came to know them by. Several fans in the seats around me took up the chant of "Genesis!" for a while, demonstrating their feelings. They should have listened to Marillion’s albums before coming to the show. The band does write some unique and creative songs of their own. Too bad this was lost in the sound system.

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Most of the audience watched the band politely if not enthusiastically. When the tooshort set was over, many people in the floor seats gave Marillion a stomping, standing ovation. Despite this outburst, the houselights went on, cancelling any hopes of an encore.

After a short intermission, Rush took the stage and it was clear that this was what the crowd had come to see. Wasting no time, they dove headfirst into some of their most popular songs, opening with "Free Will,” "Limelight” and "The Big Money” without time to catch your breath. An elaborate rearscreen projection system flashed a series of visual stimuli behind the band. Everything from film clips, laser effects and animation fed eye-candy to the almost sold-out house.

Rush—amazingly—manage to get a very full sound for a trio, and any audio problems Marillion experienced were not evident for the headliners. Even the huge stage seemed to be filled by the presence of Geddy Lee hopping between the keyboard on the extreme right to front-and-center to play bass, Alex Lifeson on guitars to the left, and drummer Neil Peart just recessed from center. Other than the aforementioned projections, the stage show consisted mainly of spotlights in ever-changing colors dancing around the stage and focusing on the members of the group as they ran back and forth. There was one point—during "Mystic Rhythms”—when the front wall of the stage was lit up by spots cleverly hidden below, shining red, green and blue lights up onto the surface and creating a very effective African-like pattern moving to the beat of the song. But the green and blue lasers being shot towards the rear of the arena were somewhat uneventful and didn’t warrant the cheers which greeted them. Twice, flashpots went off on either side of the stage to emphasize lyrics, but these types of pyrotechnics—along with some sparse smokeare better left to experts in the matter like Kiss or Iron Maiden.

The old ploy that the audience is there to be seen as much as to see was employed when two huge airport-runway-like banks of lights were turned on to ignite the hall. The same reaction occurs whenever a TV camera is present: the fans increase their whistling, cheering, shouting, waving their fists in the air and jumping around, trying to get noticed by the band, and each other. Suffice it to say the audience went wild.

Highlights of the set included renditions of many tunes off Rush’s new Power Windows album, including "Manhattan Project,” "Marathon,” and "Territories.” Old favorites "Red Sector 7,” "Closer To The Heart,” ‘‘Distant Early Warning” and "Tom Sawyer” were greeted with cheers of admiration. Lee continues to exhibit one of the most distinctive voices in rock ’n’ roll.

Rush has been described as a thinkingman’s band. The lyrics are intelligent and thought-provoking. Even the visuals seem well thought-out, so as not to talk down to their fans. Judging by the drunken and stoned stupor many in the audience seemed to be in, it looks to me like Rush’s music can be enjoyed on a number of levels.

An editor of a guitar-oriented magazine I ran into backstage told me that because he had arrived early, he had the distinct pleasure of getting to catch Geddy Lee eating dinner. Decked out in a long flowing robe, Lee looked like the embodiment of the image the band have of themselves; "mystical philosophers of the Western world.” Meeting up with the editor from Circus again after the show for our ride home, I was treated to a brief explanation of how, after sharing seven Rush shows in the last 10 years with his companion, "Mr. Circus” could still enjoy their performances because of the intelligence demonstrated in the band’s lyrics. As we gingerly stepped over broken bottles and around patrons discharging the contents of their stomachs all over the asphalt, I thought, "That’s easy for you to say, but it’s only rock ’n’ roll to me.”