You’ve got to feel sorry for Mercury Rev- no matter hard I try, I just can’t help thinking of them as the poor relation to the Flaming Lips. Both feature spaced-out cosmic melodies overlaid with earnest, quasi-mystical vocals; Jonathan Donahue could easily pass himself as Wayne Coyne’s slighty diabolic older brother and they even share personnel: Revs keyboardist Dave Fridmann produced the albums that propelled the Lips from a cult concern into one of the most beloved indie bands on the planet. But whilst the Flaming Lips manage to add a huge dose of fun and wonderment to their space-age wall-of-sound epics, Mercury Rev always have come across as a bit po-faced. And unfortunately, this show didn’t do much to dispel that. It’s a shame, because when they were good, they were very, very good- the material from Deserters Songs was fantastic (Holes especially), with propulsive drums and trippy lighting adding immensely to the experience. Donahue is a brilliant frontman, a slightly terrifying fellow in his early forties with a penchant for drama and expressive movements- he’s the kind of guy who can’t stay still for a movement, prowling across the stage if he’s not acting out the lyrics out of the song. I actually often found myself wishing he was attached to a more consistent band. For it all too often descended into endless proggy meandering, songs lacking the melodic strength or instrumental creativity to sustain them and I’d imagine even the most hardcore fan must have drifted off several times throughout. Mercury Rev are almost as bad as latter-day Iron & Wine for taking a decent song and stringing it out beyond human reckoning, diminishing their own potential greatness through hubris and self-indulgence. I mean, I’m glad I saw them and finally got the chance to see Opus 40 live, but I won’t be rushing out to see them again anytime soon- the flashes of brilliance couldn’t quite compensate for the long stretches of boredom.
(Photo: Purplecatster (Flickr))
No comments:
Post a Comment