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indie-snob>+!#
rooney @ the metro (9-13-03)
with the sounds, paloalto |
 Line-up: Look, I don’t think Rooney is tremendously talented or are worthy of the huge hype they’ve gotten from MTV nor do they deserve the terrible tragedy of Target sponsorship. But the fact is this: Rooney is a pop band, largely appreciated by the same teenage girls who gaga over Justin Timberlake or Benji from Good Charlotte. Despite that, they’re a fun live band… or so they were back in February when I saw them with OK Go and the Donnas. Today, Rooney finds themselves on the brink of mass popularity, not so much for the stellar song-craft of their self-titled debut, but more-so for their excellently styled hair. Homemade t-shirts read: “Like the Music. Love the Hair.” I also thought of a MORE hysterical one: “Stay for the Music. Cum for the Hair.” Well, I liked it. And so, the crowd was made up of annoying girls, aged 11-17, screaming their heads off, crying at the site of Rooney, or were they crying because they had never been to a rock show before? Paloalto opened things again. Why must god torture me in this way? No, actually, they were much better this time. In fact, they sounded sincere, something I never could have imagined after their embarrassment of opening for Supergrass. In all seriousness, despite the enhanced mediocrity of acoustic ballads with grungy vocals, the audience was the worst part. People were just making complete asses out of themselves, jumping around for songs with no energy, throwing their fists up with that damn “rock” sign when there wasn’t even a point. That’s what annoyed me. Paloalto sounded much better, though, and actually, I didn’t mind them terribly. It was too much fun making fun of them to notice. Completely expecting another crappy band, I was so pleasantly surprised when the Swedish new-wave sensations, the Sounds, came on. Despite my initial confusion over the gender of the lead singer (I know, but it could have been a guy in drag), I was completely swept away with dance fever. The entire crowd moved as the band just oozed sex. By the time Jesper Anderberg took off his shirt, the entire crowd became infatuated in some way or form. I had a great time dancing to all their hits off Living in America, including “Seven Days a Week,” “Dance With Me” and “S.O.U.N.D.S.” Having enough indie-cred to be featured in Venus but enough pop sensibility to tour with Rooney, they surely will at least give Hot Hot Heat a run for their money. Highly recommended live (the album’s good, too). Flipping their hair upon entrance, the boys of Rooney stepped on stage. Yeah, it was gross. Not them. Not their music. But the fans. If I saw one more girl start crying, I could’ve sworn I was going to SCREAM. Do you know what it’s like being surrounded by screaming girls all over? Where out of the 40 people in line ahead of you, you were one of three guys? (I recall a similar experience seeing Phantom Planet last year.) The girl next to me throws variations of the rock sign in the air every two seconds blocking any view I would have with her massive arm. The two other guys ousted the girl who sneaked in front of me and as she argued with the one’s girlfriend, she bit him and ran away. And so, it was a little difficult to pay attention to the mediocrity Rooney exerted, as they became more interested in looking nice and playing out-of-the-book guitar solos. *yawn* How terribly boring. So those pop darlings I saw play with the Donnas and OK Go have moved on to bigger and uglier things, certainly no longer worthy of any independent attention. Let them have their Target sponsorship and mediocrity, we still have Phantom Planet to occupy our time with. Grade: B- Related Reviews: |