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Gorillaz
at the Hammerstein Ballroom
by Glenn Emerstone
Picture this, a band of four cartoon characters that have a hit record but don't really exist as a living, eating, breathing, drinking, pill-popping, farting, fucking entity. How can it fail? You don't have to worry about anyone in the band OD'ing, getting some nasty social disease or, worse yet, getting old.
February 28, 2002, Gorillaz provided the visual thrills at the Hammerstein Ballroom in a sold-out performance from beyond the scrim, so to speak. A scrim is a translucent screen that the live Gorillaz band members performed behind as their animated alter egos flickered onscreen in what amounted to one bombastic animated cartoon.
Brainchild of Damon Albarn of Blur and artist Jamie Hewlett, the creator of "Tank Girl," Gorillaz offer up a grind of house, punk, pop, and hip-hop a burst of colorful sounds. But, in concert, they provided more than just confectionery pop to the masses. Like the Archies on acid, Albarn's stew bridged popular music with cute, but edgy, comic-book clones.
The cartoon characters Murdoc (bass), Russel (drums), Noodle (guitar) and 2-D (vocals) spent most of their time onscreen above the band while the real seven-piece unit, plus disc jockey, pumped up the volume from behind the scrim. And while the characters were likeable, unfortunately, they remained as faceless as the band, with personalities that just didn't come to life, although their website (www.gorillaz.com) is supposedly chock full of anecdotes about the motley crew.
On record, the band takes on members from Blur, Talking Heads, Buena Vista Social Club and Cibo Matto. On stage, however, it's anyone's guess. All one sees is an eerie silhouette of figurines moving, pulsating, and rocking in sync to the images that flicker onscreen.
Following the strains of some crunchy reggae, the band members jumped into the opener "M1 A1" from their debut Gorillaz and played a smattering of new ones off their latest G Sides. It sounded a bit forced and rushed, as they tried to keep up with the projected images that flickered onscreen. The band's big hit, "Clint Eastwood," bridged hip hop and rock in its chorus and was the crowd sing-along of the night. "Dracula" had an android King Kong-like gorilla lumbering onscreen in time to the band's jungle beats and spacey funked-up grooves. "5/4" showcased its densely constructed pop roots, and "Punk" was a spunky power play of chords and snappy rhythms.
Between song headlines, like "Shoot to Ill," "Dark Pop," and "Irrepressible, Irresistible," short humorous vignettes appeared onscreen to highlight the band members' personalities. For example, in an onscreen battle of strength, Noodle displayed his prowess in the martial arts by flipping the very rotund Russel. But the comic relief of each interlude was not enough to mask a great idea turned into a tired routine. Even though the tunes rocked in rugged precision, after a while the images became a bore. For the closer "911," introduced by Albarn as "a song for New York" Detroit rappers D-12 (Eminem's boys) breathed life into the Gorillaz novelty as they emerged in front of the scrim to a crowd hungry for humanoid contact after an encore of two reprised songs.
The combined assault on eye and ear worked at first, but it would have been nice to see the band perform in the raw for at least one number or for one of the cartoon characters to have OD'ed or have had sex with an underage groupie. Something.
According to Albarn, a feature-length film is in the works.
March 2002
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