July 1, 1997: Radiohead releases "OK Computer."
March 27, 2001: Our Lady Peace comes to Trax Nightclub in Charlottesville, still reeling somewhat from the date above.
Hmmm, maybe that's a touch harsh. After all, OLP could do a hell of a lot worse picking role models. Yet, from the moment a voice reminiscent of Thom Yorke's a la "Fitter Happier" began to speak over film eerily reminiscent of "OK Computer'"s artwork, there became a sense that OLP would trade its string of hits for one critically-acclaimed album.
That's too bad, seeing that the band put on a surprisingly potent show at Trax last Tuesday when it didn't get caught up in its own seriousness. Our Lady Peace still has Division I ambition and Division I-AA talent, and maybe one day the group will make an album that can be considered essential. But in comparison to its modern-rock peers, OLP still can make claims for valedictorian, even if it is an unremarkable class.
The show's overall tone was mutual appreciation between an audience that has never seen Our Lady Peace in Charlottesville and a band that still can't seem to break the bank in America, but apparently has accumulated quite a following in our neck of the woods.
The crowd was a pretty even mix of older University students, who were first years when "Clumsy" came out, and high-schoolers weaned on "Life," Our Lady Peace's current god-awful single which would sound like the "Cheers" theme if Papa Roach wrote the lyrics.
The band leaned heavily on material from its latest album, "Spiritual Machines." After stiffing commercially with its unwieldy titled "Happiness ... Is Not A Fish You Can Catch," "Machines" finds the band reemphasizing its love of economy-sized hooks. Inspired by the writings of MIT professor and inventor Robert Kurzweil, Our Lady Peace's fourth LP toys with the idea of computers taking over man's role as the prominent intelligent being. Sound familiar? The execution is more along the lines of Styx's "Mr. Roboto" than "OK Computer," as the songs themselves very loosely tie in with the film-strip-sounding prophecies of Kurzweil that are thrown in at times.
Perhaps a more apt comparison for Our Lady Peace would be Collective Soul, a group that, like its north-of-the-border cohorts, started off as a grunge knockoff and scored more hits than most of the bands they imitated. Neither Collective Soul nor OLP became popular enough to get the critical bashing Creed or Limp Bizkit received, and achieved a sort of happy anonymity in the press.
After dealing with a blown speaker between sets, the OLP show got off to a lackluster start, with the band performing a tinny version of "Middle Of Yesterday" that found Raine Maida's nasal voice being rendered even more nerdy. The group then powered into "Right Behind You," a monstrously infectious fan favorite off its new album, and the stage was set for a night of catchy, somewhat cerebral modern-rock.
Although you might not know too many people who own any of OLP's four albums, the band has accumulated a cache of good singles that they trotted out judiciously for an eager audience. There are hundreds of non-Canadians - in Charlottesville, no less - that know every word to "Superman's Dead." Maida remarked in the middle of the set, "I didn't know we had so many friends in Charlottesville," and heck, it was news to me as well.
Fans took particular pleasure in imitating Maida's Alanis Morrissette-esque squeals and didn't seem to mind guitarist Mike Turner's straight-outta-Journey haircut. At several instances during a one-two punch of OLP's more popular tunes, "Is There Anybody Home?" and "Clumsy," the fans overpowered Maida with amazingly accurate vocal replication. At one point, he just let the crowd handle the chorus of "Home."
Despite the majority of its songs having the same middle-of-the-road tempo, Our Lady Peace created a good deal of momentum by mixing up its newer songs with the U2-inspired material from its first album. Then Maida stopped to give a rambling, pedantic outline of the new album: "It's about computers and machines ... but really, it's about human emotion," he said before busting into the super-slo-mo "Are You Sad?" It was all too typical of the band's self-imposed solemn vibe.
Though the band regained the urge to rock as soon as the song was over, only Turner's occasional mouthing of the lyrics brought fun into the experience. The set ended with "Life" and its incisive musings on the topic: "It's all messed up." The encore didn't exactly lighten things at first with the mopey "4 A.M.," but "Starseed," a simple but energetic hit from 1995, proved a bookend for what was a synopsis of a not-too-shabby career.
Opening act, average white band American Hi-Fi started the concert, not surprisingly saving its current faceless trifle "Flavor Of The Weak" until the end of the set. These guys are not to be confused with "Freak Of The Week" dudes Marvelous 3, but then again, who's keeping score? Hi-Fi chugged through a set of competent, bland, up-tempo rock and standard motions and banter, e.g., pogoing up and down and interjecting "You guys are great. This is from our new album...." If nothing else, the group gave me an idea of what Silverchair might look like in 10 years.