Photographs by Sean Chin.
We have collectively reached what can only be described as a most interesting tipping point. It’s like society as a whole is trying its best to progressively move forward, only to be continually pulled back by the intoxicating allure of times gone by, AKA #Nostalgia. From a music perspective, there may not be an artist alive that personifies this more in The Year of Our Lord 2015 than William Patrick Corgan Jr..
Let’s get some obligatory stroking out of the way – I was about as big a Smashing Pumpkins fan as you could get from say 1993 to the band’s initial dismantling in 2000. I could easily fill this space reminiscing about all the good (and bad) shows I’ve seen from the numerous SP incarnations over the years, but let’s just stick with the reconstituted cultivar alt-rockers, shall we?
As much as I’d wish the future-embracing @Billy would dip into the well and indulge us obscure obsessos with something like “Pastichio Medley” in concert or a Gish-clusive tour, that ain’t gonna pay the Pumpkinland bills or allow him to foray into ventures such as…oh I dunno, professional wrestling creative director. For that you need to sell out venues the size of Toronto’s roomy Molson Canadian Amphitheatre, which is what The End Times Tour with Marilyn Manson came awfully close to doing on Tuesday, August 4th.
Accompanying the freshly-sheared Corgan into our fair country were returning percussionist Jimmy Chamberlin, eight-year-strong side axeman Jeff Schroeder as well as relatively unknown bass slapper Jack Bates, although I thought it was cool he favorited a pair of my tweets. Dare I say the older and conceivably wiser-than-me frontman has learned how to be a “smashing” success in the New Millennium. Regardless of the vinatge, Billy’s Pumpkins never quite attained the pinnacle of the grunge-dominated world, though the group always carried a certain counterculture panache to them that has become very marketable over time. It took him awhile, not to mention a few forgettable melodic detours, but Corgan has come to grips with his semblance of a legacy full-on, and is willingly exploiting it to the delight of thousands eager to relive the songs they grew up fitting on mixtapes. He has mastered the craft of putting together a near-perfect setlist, balancing a blitzkrieg of shoutalong rawk anthems like “Zero” and “The Everlasting Gaze” with mellower numbers (my personal fave “Mayonaise” and “The Crying Tree of Mercury”)…well, some are more well-known than others. The end result is a sense of awe at the body of work the Pumpkins brand has left its stamp on, albeit not as profoundly or prodigiously as in their ’90s heyday.
Moving onto co-headliner Marilyn Manson, “points” as @midnight host Chris Hardwick would say for still trying to shock like his Mechanical Animals just came out. Speaking of the Nerdist magnate, I encourage you all to relive this clip from Manson’s famously awkward appearance on Talking Dead. The former Brian Hugh Warner was a lot more theatrical to say the least, starting with the church motif and the recorded voice of a Southern-style preacher admonishing how “Satan Is Real”. He proceeded to spookily sing “Sweet Dreams” atop circus stilt, plus radio staples “The Dope Show” and “The Beautiful People” while alternating between knuckle duster and dagger-looking microphones. By the way, can I also add how weird it is to see him perform outdoors in the early evening light? I wasn’t close enough to see if MM actually cast a shadow, but his Crow-ish makeup took me back to how Sting use to battle the Hollywood Hulk Hogan-led nWo. Oh, and RIP Rowdy Roddy Piper, yo.
As Manson burned a Holy Bible onstage and did his darnedest to conjure up Nazi imagery, I wondered to myself if the word controversial even applies to him any longer. Besides a lone protester outside the Amphitheatre, this two decade-plus goth act was wearing thin under the otherwise heavy, Columbine-inspired black trench coats worn by Manson’s pasty disciples. Is it just me, or does that tragic event seem like such a distant memory compared to more recent, terror-fuelled atrocities? The world is forever one-upping itself, rendering characters like the once-mighty Antichrist Superstar in the dust and a bloody mess at a Denny’s in Lethbridge Alberta.
And I can’t believe I’ve managed to go this far without mentioning the tattooed women taking their tops off willy-nilly as if a SuicideGirls audition was occurring; the now-turned rassling huckster Corgan would no doubt argue it’s all part of the show, one that I’ll admit proved to be entertaining and provided a few hours of nostalgia for the gathered masses. Congrats Billy, you’ve finally made it and sold out (which I mean with all respect). Let me know if you ever want to discuss the best-scripted sports entertainment storylines ever in between contemplating your next big music play.
Thanks to Live Nation Ontario for media access.
