Garbage at Mill City Nights, 4/5/2013
|Photo by Youa Vang|
Mill City Nights, Minneapolis
Friday, April 5, 2013
Forget "Throwback Thursday," it was "Throwback Friday" at Mill City Nights for Garbage's sold-out show in Minneapolis. Collectively dressed in black, Garbage took the stage following an announcement reminding the audience on the upper level to not hang their drinks over the edge -- lest they drop them onto the band and ruin the show for everyone.
Duke Erikson and Steve Marker got ready while Shirley Manson, Eric Avery -- filling in as their touring bass player -- and Butch Vig bumped fists to prep for their almost two-hour set. Anticipation was high, and so were emotions as the band had not been to to the Twin Cities in quite some time.
|Photo by Youa Vang|
With her hair pulled into a high bun perfect for headbanging, Shirley skipped any introductions and launched right into the electronically charged "Automatic Systematic Habit." The rest of the band also have aged well, looking like the typical rockers who survived the '90s, but it's almost as if Manson has been stuck in a time capsule with her flawless skin and beauty. The lead singer's voice is so vibrant that you don't realize she carries all of the vocals with no backup. She made her prowling of the stage look as natural as a cheetah stalking its kill, pointing out into the audience with her fluorescent painted fingernails and demanding everyone's attention.
Garbage were always much darker in their lyrics and their sound than their alt-rock counterparts. "Paranoid" from Version 2.0 was a deviation from the sound of their self-titled debut album, and it proved to be successful for the band. Further evidence of that darkness comes from "Control." The piece opens with Shirley's quiet, controlled voice and builds to a driving full-band declaration about letting guards down and truths coming out due to loss of control. The opening riffs of "Why Do You Love Me" sound so familiar that they could almost fill in for the opening lines of Soundgarden's "Spoonman."
With a crowd full of hard-core Garbage fans, there was much cheering as soon as the first notes of "Queer" were dropped. Slow as it is already, they band changed the tempo and came up with an updated version of the classic '90s song.
While in her zone, Shirley doesn't fall to too much stage banter, but when she gets to chatting, she goes off on tangents -- or digressions, as she charmingly puts it. Taking a break, she said to the audience, "Good evening, Minneapolis. Thank you for joining us this evening. Have you had a good life since we last saw you?" Noticing some girls in the front row being pushed around, she asked the men around them to take a step back, saying, "I'm the same way. I don't like strange men bumping up beside me, invading my space. It's a female thing. I wouldn't expect you to understand. It would just be me looking at you with frosty eyes"; when a gentleman shouted at her that it's her job to look at people with frosty eyes, she laughingly accepted.
Introducing "#1 Crush" with "This is not a love song," Shirley charged into the disturbing song about obsessive love that makes you never want to go on any blind dates ever again. Back to her digressions again, she told the story of the group's first show in Minneapolis and their 17th anniversary as a band. "We were so nervous, and we were so unprepared. We drove to the venue [7th St. Entry] saying, 'We can't fuck this up.' We drove up to the venue, and there was a huge line out the door which we thought was for us." It turned out to be for the artist playing the Mainroom next door, and Shirley charismatically -- and using the term incorrectly -- called it "jumping the shark." She had to confer with Duke knowing she used it wrong, but continued on expressing her gratitude with, "Unlike a lot of bands from the '90s, our fans have allowed us to experiment -- we've been listening to a lot of Missy Elliott and Justin Timberlake -- but I digress again. Our record took a strange detour and got panned universally, but we love it." This segued into the saddest song that the band has ever put out, "Cup of Coffee."