Garbage's much-anticipated Five Night Stand show for MTV sees a return to a smaller venue for the transatlantic foursome; their last UK outing was an arena tour, and the tour that tonight's show will finish off has seen them play smaller but still expansive venues. For Phantom Planet, however, this is a relatively big venue. No-one here has heard of Phantom Planet, and on investigating them further, your intrepid reporter finds them shrouded in a haze of mystery and rumour [related to Roman Coppola..? Put together as a moneyspinner..? Who knows...]. On first sight, they look like a photogenic Strokes/Pavement hybrid, their indie haircuts tousled just-so, while musically they mix the current wave of jaunty NY garage-rock with a sincere take on Muse and Elvis Costello. Indeed, suspicion aside, they do what they do with considerably polished gusto and cheer; but the misgivings persist - something's missing. Perhaps it's the ever-important hook - each song sounds great at the time, but good luck remembering their tunes an hour later. Perhaps it's any tangible sense of chemistry between the band, who, sure, seem to like each other, but don't look like they've shared grotty tourvans and rationed their Ginsters Pasties through the hard times. Whatever it is, whoever's behind them, Phantom Planet will probably succeed, if they work on being a little more convincing.
My Vitriol are another band who know about overnight success, but they've had to strive to maintain it. This is their first UK gig in nearly 6 months; in this time they've been wooing bearded Texan rednecks and reshaping their album for the American masses. It shows. Their lush sound returns from the US considerably trimmer. Each song sounds more direct and urgent - even mellifluous instrumentals like Deadlines and Tongue Tied have been given a short back 'n' sides - they're less meandering, more brutal and frenetic. Forthcoming single Moodswings, given its live debut here tonight, is dark and effervescent, a cocktail of chiming guitars and angled vocals, while the familiar scree of Losing Touch sounds more furious than ever, its mangled, incisive riffs administering a swift kick to the head. Som's vocals seem a little off, as he struggles to reach some of the notes in Vapour Trails, but that seems down to overuse more than anything else, and doesn't detract from their edge. It's a largely successful move for them; there's a sense that they're revisiting the raw, ragged qualities of their early releases that made them hot property in the first place - but with the benefit of a couple of years' experience.
Garbage have faced a lot of criticism regarding their recent album, beautifulgarbage. "Too poppy!" cried the masses; but frontwoman Shirley maintained in an interview that their live performance is "still a rock show". At first, that would seem to be true. They kick in with the pulsing Push It, a few hard-edged riffs morphing it from a electro-pop anthem to a rock belter, and Shirley certainly looks the part, clad in white as a frankly scary boot-camp aerobics instructor. The set plays out like a Greatest Hits - practically every single they've ever done is belted out with aplomb, accompanied in between by much anecdotal banter from Shirley. And it all sounds huge. I Think I'm Paranoid retains all the boot-in-the-face oomph that we're familiar with, while Cherry Lips, the unashamedly poppy single that pissed everyone off immensely, is deliciously teasing and funky. Even standing in the bar, your correspondent is reduced to an undignified spectacle, throwing assorted shapes to the groove-laden erect middle finger that is Vow. To be fair, it's not a rock show. With the exception of the front three rows, the crowd is not moving much. The riffs are infectious but not heavy. And what's wrong with that? Garbage haven't sold out their rock heritage and become a pop band; they always were a pop band. Every song they've ever written at least aimed to tap into the melodic, feel-good vein that feeds pop music, instantly clicking the switch on one or another recognised, familiar emotion. Tonight's show is pure, honest, throw-your-ass-around-the-room pop tunage, and it's brilliant, whether Shirley realises it or not. And one suspects she does.
