AFTER A TRAGIC OVERDOSE AND A BRAIN-MELTING WORLD TOUR, SMASHING PUMPKINS RETURN HOME FOR A THREE-NIGHT BLOW-OUT AND A SPOT OF TRICK OF TREATING
The Pumpkins ripening in the fields a miles from the Rosemont Horizon on the outskirts of Chicago were dusted with frost, but you'd need the weatherman to know that. When Smashing Pumpkins returned to their hometown for three sold-out nights last month, everything was bath in a warm glow.
This year has been, to borrow a line, the best times and the worst of times for the band. The major leg of this tour supporting their platinumselling, double-CD concept album, Mellon Collie And The lnfinite Sadness, was postponed after touring keyboardist, Jonathan Melvoin, died in a New York hotel room following a heroin overdose. Drummer Jimmy Chamberlin, who has a history of heroin abuse and had been using with Melvoin at the time of his death, Was taken into police custody and charged ith criminal possession of a controlled substance. Five days later, Chamberlin, was fired by the rest of the band. Of all the dates, the delaying of the Chicago shows was probably most painful for Corgan, given his hurt at being scomed by the hipster Chicago scene, coupled with his huge creative and commercial ambition. Someone who knew Corgan in high school said he'd given voice to this ambition then, predicting that he'd have the biggest rock band ever. Right now, he's not far wrong.
The audience streaming into the 12,000capacity Horizon, a huge hanger-like arena T within spitting distance from Chicago's O'Hare Airport, is full of sweet, weli-scrubbed alterna-teens. They're a far cry from the equally white and upscale, but body-pierced, chin-whiskered and teerning-with-attitude suburban youth that made up the LollaPalooza crowd when the Pumpkins headlined the rock circus in 1994.
"We're Pleased to be here, the home of Smashing Pumpkins," proclaims Grant Lee Phillips, mainman in support act Grant lee Buffalo, and receives the biggest applause of their set. On a high stage with an ocean of peopie seated before them, GLB wisely push aside indie sensibilities and rock as hard as they can. Their effort is politely received, but the bored are bopping balloons aloft. Other's are too busy trawling through the concession area, buying Polish sausages, jumbo pretzels and cold beer, or just hanging out...
And then: so many lighters are lit that you'd think that Led Zeppelin were about to appear. To the tinkling opening of 'Metion Collie And The lnfinite Sadness', Smashing Pumpkins regally take the stage. The original Pumpkins occupy the front of the stage, D'Arcy and James Iha on either side of Billy Corgan. Temporary drummer Matt Walker [from Filter, replacing Chamberlin] and black-and-white striped-suited new-boy keyboardist Dennis Flemion [from The Frogs, a band on D'Arcy and lha's Chicago-based Scratchie record label] are stage rear. They keep these positions all night: all Pumpkins are equal but some Pumpkins are more equal than others.
Kicking into the tough 'Where Boys Fear To Tread', the strobes and dancing spots are as frenetic as the music. Corgan is still wearing [it's been more than a year] his rockstar silver pants and 'Zero' T-shirt outfit. Forget what your teachers told you, 'Zero' muitiplied by thousands equals millions.
This is 13 year-old Lauren's favourite song and she looks ecstatic. Her twin brother Chuck and their parents, standing on either side of them, look thrilled too. From 'Zero', a hero. The song is followed by the hyper-romantic 'Tonight, Tonight', a track epitomising the Pumpkins' alternative mode. The music is accompanied by a video taken from Méliès's fanciful 1902 sci-fi romp, La Voyage Dans La Lune. In it, an astronomy club's moon-shot ends with a triumphal reception on their return to earth. The visuals marvellously mirror the Pumpkins' return to their hometown tonight. "Some of you doubted the third concert," Corgan crows. "We'II give a special concert - songs by Journey, Kansas, Boston," Iha adds.
Now it's time for a journey back in time," Corgan announces like some carnival barker. "When this record came out a lot of people, not fans of course, but critics, said it sucked. We're still bitter too." The Great Pumpkin, as he'd called himself the other night, carries a grudge well. Last year he banned a Chicago newspaper critic from the small club where the band were previewing songs for the new release. The writer, whose flaw was failing to give sycophantic praise to the band, was forced to review the concert from a lawn chair set up on the sidewalk outside the Wicker Park venue. Greg, who is standing next to me, remembers that show well. The 28 year-old clerk paid a bouncer $40 to sneak him inside in a dumpster. He was also here two nights ago. He most appreciaties the Pumpkins' technical features but admits that they market themselves well to 15 year-olds.
"This is from Gish on Caroline," Corgan continues, as they jump into 'Siva'. The trip back continues with 'Disarm' from 1992's Siamese Dream. By the opening bars of 'Bullet With Butterfly Wings', the song currently saturating the Chicago airwaves, the crowd are in hypermode. "Despite all the rage I am still just a rat in a cage, Corgan cries, although commanding the huge stage he sure doesn't appear to be in any cage. Unlike those guitarists who just stand there and wiggle their weapons, Corgan uses about eight different body moves. The best is when he thrusts his left leg, bent at the knee, in front of him. Watery psychedelic imagery fills the screens during 'Porcelina Of The Vast Oceans'. Special effects show Corgan performing live within the projected visuals on the screens. As seen here, and in their cleaning up at September's MTV Awards in New York, video thrills these rock'n'roll stars.
By now, having powered his way through a blistering main set, Billy Corgan's hand, which he'd injured earlier in the set, seems to need attention. Everyone leaves the stage, and then comes back on five minutes later. James lha asks: "Hows everyone doing? Everybody feeling fine? I feel fucking good myself... and last Chicago show! "I want you to join me in a smail primal scream therapy. When I scream I want you to.' He does, and they follow. It's loud, but nothing like the hysterical, piercing scream heard near the rear exit after the show, when the throng saw Dennis Rodman, Chicago Bulls basketball player and allround celeb, whose presence backstage is the uitimate validation of the Pumpkins megastardom.
"We got the Chicago blues," Iha says introducing Corgan, who then plays some tasty, albeit weli-worn, blues licks. "BB King got nothing on you," lha jokes. "On bass," he now gestures towards D'Arcy, "Ms X-File herself..."
As the band begins the grungy 'X.Y.U.' Chris, standing nearby, nudges me. Like Corgan, he's a singer and songwriter. "This is it," he says, "the song with the worst lyric ever." The song ends and Chris forlornly mumbles that they skipped that line. But no - it's not over and finally it comes: "and into the eyes of the jackal I say kaboom' ' Urgh.
'This is the portion of the show where we invite peopie to dance," announces Corgan, ever the genial toastmaster. It doesn't do much for the band's "heavy metal image", he jokes. Jimmy Frog, guitarist with The Frogs and the tour's part-time cheerleader, enters stage weird, resplendent in a bright green sequinned suit, with large matching wings and a white feathery ascot. He doesn't do much for the band's über-grunge status, either.
"I hope you'll enjoy this part of the show. This will be the last time I ever do this," Corgan vows. Jimmy Frog goes into the audience to select dancers, as Iha chants: "Jump for joy! Come on Jimmy, find those dancers." While waiting, Iha leads the crowd in what he calls "interpretative rave music motions", which means wavy hand moves.
"I saw this man dance last night," D'Arcy says, pointing to someone in the crowd. "His feet don't even touch the floor. I want him up here." Eight peopie join the band on stage and introduce themselves to cheers [if they're from Chicago] and boos [if they're not]. Corgan, ever the hard taskmaster, warns them: "Alright dancers, don't suck! As always there are two rules: don't touch us and don't touch our shit!"
Jimmy Frog, holding his guitar, stands on the big speaker cabinet that hides Iha from my view. [After the show I ask Iha to describe his playing style. The black-clad guitarist with the striped hair says, in his laconic way, 'I play like a sloth']. The dancers writhe, skank and jump to '1979', the females move with grace, and a guy with long blond hair does martial arts moves. The ecstatic mob leaves the stage and Corgan's mic stand needs repair. Uh-oh...
Luckily, Corgan is in no mood to grouse. "When I was 17," he reminisces, "The Scorpions came to town and played three nights at the Rosemont Horizon. lt makes me very happy to know we are now as big as The Scorpions
"I hope you had a good time," concludes our remarkably personable host, "I really enjoyed playin to you. Thanks for making this a memorable time." '1979' continues until Corgan mutters, "D'Arcy made a boo boo,' and the music stops. They rest the song with Corgan singing a cappella for one bar and then the band's big sound roars in on a dime. Awesome. As the stage lights come up each Pumpkin walks off.
Greg leans over to tell me that tonight's perforrnance was as good as Friday's, but a bit shorter. He was impressed that Billy could still put much into his singing after all this talking, touring and trauma. A drum solo by Matt Walker begins the encore, 'Muzzle'. After over two-hours onstage, the show ends with the jam-packed, ultra-long 'Silverfuck'. The fans are still standing. Still standing, and still cheering. If Billy Corgan and his Smashing Pumpkins are in any cage, then tonight in Chicago it's a golden one, filled with great music.
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