The Police played at the MCG last week. Described innumerable press packages, and the subsequent fawning articles as 'one of the biggest bands on Earth', they attracted around 40,000 fans in Melbourne and Sydney to watch (many on screens, or from a great distance). Sting and the lads trot out a bunch of numbers lifted from any standard 'best-of' compilation, by all accounts the performance was as sub-par as this lead up suggests.
And, honestly, who really wants to sit a few hundred metres from a bunch of middle-aged men attempting to recreate past glories and relight the long-extinguished flame of youth and vitality? Apparently thousands, who are also willing to fork out at least $100 for the privilege. But how many of those one-eyed (and well-heeled) fans really thought about what they were paying for? Or why the band was coming out to play again?
A quick glance at the number of bands who have reformed recently, or are rumoured to be results in a veritable who's who of the music industry from the past four decades: The Police, Iron Maiden, The Eagles, Alice in Chains, Crowded House, Rage Against the Machine, The Doors, Genesis, The Spice Girls, Megadeth, The Who, Pink Floyd, and, of course, the worst-kept secret in the business, Led Zeppelin reforming with John Bonham's son hitting the skins.
Something is truly awry in the international music scene if these bands are still the prime concert draws, when there is, as always, an astonishing amount of new, thrilling music coming out all the time. To hear Deep Purple, resplendent in long, thinning, greying hair, churning out another sorry rendition of 'Smoke on the Water' is to watch another nail be hammered into the coffin of popular music. In 1973, Deep Purple stood alongside Sabbath and Zeppelin as warriors on the vanguard of a new musical movement. Now they're grandfathers.
The easy answer to these questions is that money, as always, is the motivating factor behind these incessant 'comeback' or 'farewell' tours (not to mention The Eagles' 'Farewell 1' tour!). But that is perhaps cheapening the legacy of these once-great bands, although it's hard to imagine that Don Henley truly enjoys playing 'Hotel California' night after night, for 31 years straight. And The Police did make US$132 million last year. Of course, money plays a part in any decision to come together, particularly if the players quite clearly hate each other, but most of these men and women are millionaires many times over.
So why? There must be a multitude of reasons. Missing the spotlight, the adrenaline rush that comes from a rapturous reception from thousands of devotees, the fun of playing with old bandmates, merely the need to be active would all be powerful motivators. Hell, there may still be groupies floating around in their forties! But who are we at Wireless Bollinger to speculate on the state of mind of these giants of musical history? These aren't the questions that should be asked. The real questions are why should we want to go see them? And why should we pay so much to see them from so far away?
The answer is: we shouldn't. If Led Zeppelin reform officially, and come to a town near you, it won't really be Led Zeppelin, and not because of the absence of Bonzo. 'Whole Lotta Love' is the template for aggressive, hyper-sexualised blues-rock. It was written and first performed by a bunch of young, cocky, hip-swinging libidinous blokes with all the verve and testosterone that youth can bring to bear. In the hands of sixty-something grandparents, it's kind of creepy.
This is not to say that Zeppelin (or any of these bands) shouldn't be playing. Robert Plant teamed up with Alison Krauss last year to produce Raising Sand, arguably one of the best albums of the year. But it's the music of the man today. Reserved, dignified, graceful, as Plant himself has become. Bob Dylan and David Bowie are still bona fide superstars who travel the world playing music they wrote last week. If Dylan decides to bust out 'Like a Rolling Stone' occasionally, that's fine, because it's a fair bet it's what he genuinely felt like doing. Surely Sting is tired of hearing 'Message in a Bottle'. And why should we want to hear it from a man who in all likelihood doesn't want to be playing it?
For the cost of one ticket to a lacklustre Police gig this week, a Melbourne resident could have borne witness to both the majesty of the Arcade Fire and the kinetic energy of LCD Soundsystem, with change left over. These two bands making amazing music TODAY and performing it with all the vigour and passion that can only come from current relevancy. And you could comfortably get within five metres of them, were you willing to arrive an hour early.
So next time you're tempted to fork out hundreds of dollars of hard earned coin for a nosebleed seat at the nearby stadium to see former gods of rock 'n' roll strut their stuff on stage, think about what you're paying for. For all intents and purposes, you're paying all that money to see a particularly authentic cover band of middle aged men playing songs by and for the youth. Save your money. Walk to the local, pay $10, grab a pint and check out an unknown who is there for the sheer thrill of being on a stage performing their creation for an appreciative audience. That'll beat seeing 'Black Dog' from sixty metres surrounded by sextogenarians wearing loafers and sipping chardonnay any day.
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