April 1999, House of Blues, Las Vegas, Nev.
I have XM radio because terrestrial radio is mostly terrible (why so much Steve Miller band?). On XM I have a couple of favorite stations — there’s XMU, an indie/underground station of music all the cool kids listen to, 1stWave, a 1980s alternative station of music I listened to as a kid, and Lithium, ’90s alternative and grunge.
I listen to Lithium in small blocks, and while I know all the music well, it reminds me of how much I prefer ’80s music to ’90s music. Even the parsing out of bands I love — R.E.M. and U2 for example — shows an obvious choice. War or Achtung Baby? Fables of the Reconstruction or Monster? It’s an easy pick.
Which is not to say I don’t like music from the ’90s — some of it (Radiohead, Oasis, Nirvana) is without peer. A ’90s band which intrigued me was Garbage.
I was lured into Garbage because of Butch Vig, the record producer who was Garbage’s drummer. I figured the man who produced Nevermind, Gish, Dirty and Siamese Dream knew what it took to make great music. And he did — the two albums leading up this show (Garbage and Garbage 2.0) produced several hit songs.
So it was 1999 and I was on vacation in Vegas. My friend Jon, another music fanatic who went to college in Athens, Ga., came out to party with me as did some other friends during my week out there. Bands are always coming through Vegas, and since Jon and I both liked Garbage, we got tickets.
Any House of Blues is a good place to see a show, it’s not too big, but big enough, and caters to a certain kind of band — the ones on the cusp of a larger audience with a somewhat fervid fanbase. Bands such as Interpol, Death Cab for Cutie and Decemberists were at onetime House of Blues bands before taking off to bigger venues. Jon and I grabbed a spot on the floor and readied for the show.
If I remember correctly, the stage was a bit sparse, with the drums on a high riser in the back. The guys in the band (Vig, bassist/guitarist Duke Erikson and guitarist Steve Marker) were dressed in simple black suits, deferring all attention to singer Shirley Manson. Shirley was not wearing a black suit, in fact Shirley was not wearing much at all. And Shirley was getting all the attention.
If you read about this band, you learn that Manson was asked to try out for the band by Vig but failed on her first try. She came back a second time (as her band Angelfish fell apart) with some songs in hand, and Vig asked her to join. I saw an interview where she said it wasn’t until “Stupid Girl” and “Only Happy When It Rains” became hits, songs she helped write, that she felt on even keel with the guys in the band.
It was clear from the live setting she was the star. She strutted and owned the stage, tearing through the material with purpose. Even a bout of early technical difficulties saw her at ease, as an improvised version of The Beatles’ “Day Tripper” kept the crowd at bay before the band erupted into “I Think I’m Paranoid” after the sound fix. “Queer,” “#1 Crush,” “Stupid Girl,” “Push It” and “Special” soon followed — it two albums the band produced a cavalcade of memorable songs.
We left the show and headed out into the casino and smartly decided to bypass the blackjack tables (on this night anyway). Good music is sometimes the only rush of adrenaline you need.
