Muse @ Madison Square Garden

Tuesday, 09 March 2010 09:54

Matthew Bellamy had an identity crisis Friday. He came in looking like a model; his striking blue eyes and perfectly messed dark hair alone deserve his NME Sexiest Male Award. With his oversized sunglasses and sparkling pant-jacket combo he might as well been walking onto the catwalk. But then he started playing, and instead of friendly alt. rock he’s doing spinning jumps and riffing so hard his guitar might have needed counseling afterward.

Not only does Muse have the ambitions of progressive rockers like Radiohead but a technical prowess not usually seen near the mainstream. Their stage show setup was just as unencumbered. The band started performing on elevated pillars that descended down to the stage when appropriate. On the sides of each pillar displayed odd videos like blinking eyes or falling bodies because apparently lasers shining off just weren’t enough. But it’s Madison Square Garden, Muse should take full advantage.

Openers Silversun Pickups on the other hand are still a few minor tweaks away from deserving such a venue. All they have to do is stop the vocals, remember the Smashing Pumpkins haven’t been worth copying since ’98 and tell drummer Christopher Guanlao, unlike Bellamy, the quality of his bed head is not proportional to the quality of his playing.

Even as a three-piece, Muse filled the stage. Their impenetrably sturdy rhythm section boosted the Queen-like anthems of their latest record, The Resistance, with a feeling appropriate for such a large crowd. Bellamy’s high falsetto easily reached the back rows as he said, “We will be victorious” on “Uprising” as if he was leading a charge.

As fun playing anthems are, they did get monotonous till Muse diversified their selection up in the later half. It wasn’t genre jumping, more like leaning: play a little pop with “Time is Running Out,” a touch of jazz with “Feeling Good,” and there are those heavier songs. 

By the show’s end, Bellamy was done acting the emotional artist. Starting the electric riff to “Plug In Baby,” he went into a running slide on his knees showing reckless abandon toward scuffing those nice pants of his. He went shooting through the metallic snaps of “Stockholm Syndrome” and ended it by kicking over his equipment with glee one can only imagine. 

He couldn’t even stop when he was supposed to get softer again, throwing small guitar flourishes and distorted squeals because it was just too fun not to. This is not a level of raw virtuosity you’ll see with Thom Yorke. This is not a level of virtuosity you’ll see in anyone close to mainstream. So maybe it’s not an identity crisis. Maybe it’s just more than expected.

Words and photos by Michael Ronan

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