REVIEW: Live, Bush, Our Lady Peace @ Rockland Trust Pavilion

By Olivia Gehrke

There wouldn’t be nearly as much to say about the ‘90s if 1994 disappeared from the picture. Seminal rock ‘n’ roll albums would never have graced the airwaves. No Jar of Flies by Alice in Chains, or Weezer’s Blue Album. No Dookie by Green Day, no Parklife by Blur or Definitely Maybe by Oasis. Nirvana’s MTV Unplugged session wouldn’t have changed the world, and Soundgarden’s Super Unknown would cease to exist. Ah yes, 1994. A year to remember, if not revel in.

Cue the ALTimate Tour.

It’s true: the cringe-worthy title elicits images of dads with bad tattoos, outdated goatees, and affinities for Vans, moaning about a bygone era of “real rock ‘n’ roll.” And yet, despite that, the ALTimate Tour—featuring notable noughties alt rockers Live, Bush, and Our Lady Peace—delivered the hits, 25 years later, without being a sloppy nostalgia tour.

Live, Bush, and Our Lady Peace released Throwing Copper, Sixteen Stone, and Naveed respectively in 1994. While the bands may not have the same instant name recognition as say Nirvana or Pearl Jam, the trio wrote songs that indisputably defined the decade. (Honestly, when was the last time you switched on Lithium on Sirius XM without hearing “I Alone” or “Glycerine” or “Superman’s Dead”?) Together, the bands formed an unstoppable force of characteristic rasping vocals and general disillusionment.

Starting off the night, Our Lady Peace presented an eclectic sampler of their music from the past three decades. Hits like “Clumsy”—an angsty and beautifully whiny tune that sounds like a precursor to emo—and energy-packed “Superman’s Dead” gave way to heavy guitar pop numbers like “Innocent” and “Somewhere Out There.” While the latter songs suited a post-millennium Our Lady Peace, they lacked the live grit of the previous releases, not quite resonating with the same power.

There was something charmingly narcissistic about rock in the ‘90s. Every song made you ache or rage, causing the onset of a personal existential crisis every time—even if the song spoke of a grander scale. “Superman’s Dead” delivered on that front. Our Lady Peace performed it with the anger and punch that the song warrants. But when the band jumped about to the live debut of their new song, “Stop Making Stupid People Famous,” (think upbeat snares and Killers-esque vocals) there was a very noticeable disconnect. You were pulled from that narcissism and grunge, forced to reflect once again on the current political turmoil, made audible through an underwhelming dance tune. It was an unwelcome reminder that the romanticized ‘90s don’t—and haven’t—lasted forever. But when Bush took the stage, you believed in the bliss for just a bit longer.

Sixteen Stone’s “Machinehead” acted as a high-powered intro for Bush. The London post punkers spotlighted Gavin Rossdale—the tatted up, alt-rock Jesus figure, who surely fell from the cross before resurrecting to become the Bush frontman. With Rossdale charging from stage left to right as the band launched into the unnecessarily dramatic track “This Is War,” all the ingredients were there for the set to be another washed-up-‘90s-band-nostalgia-tour trope. But Bush had the chops to back it up. “Little Things,” sparked drive for escalated choruses. “Everything Zen” harnessed chaos as it must have in 1994. “Glycerine” ached beautifully. Rossdale performed it solo, crooning the second verse without once strumming his acoustic that was in hand. The stripped-back, raw version left the song exposed to its starkest elements. And “Comedown” served as a satisfying closer. Even “The Sound of Winter,” (2011) a latecomer to Bush’s impressive repertoire was audibly impactful. “Swallowed,” Bush’s 1996 chart-topping single, proved to be the exception. The explosive chorus fell flat, lacking the unbridled double-edged euphoria of the recording that should have, if anything, been emphasized live.

However, Bush’s overall performance made up for the brief blip in energy, because the energy remained steadily high the entire set. It was, ultimately, a performance—something Bush clearly understood and built off of. A tour couldn’t be dubbed the “ALTimate Tour” if a bunch of washed-up musicians were going to stand around and make a feeble attempt to relive their prime. So Rossdale put on a spectacle, moving about like he never aged a day past 28, screaming until his already raspy voice strained even more.

Completing the trifecta of the ALTimate Tour was Live. Preceding them on stage, the iconic haunting characters from the cover of Throwing Copperfloated out on screen as the album’s opener, “The Dam at Otter Creek” trickled in ominously. The York, Penn. natives then powered through a set complete with tracks from Throwing Copper, like “Shit Towne” (dedicated to their hometown), “Iris,” and popular hit “Selling the Drama.”

Singer Ed Kowalczyk acted as a chameleon when Live covered R.E.M.’s “Losing My Religion” and the Rolling Stones’ “Paint it Black,” sounding eerily like Michael Stipe and then Jagger not long after. While Live executed the covers flawlessly, the decision to include them made the set seem more like an American Idol episode than an “ALTimate Tour” show. This was only compounded when the band pandered to the crowd with their notable hits like “All Over You” and “I Alone.” The excitement was there—both from Live and the audience—these songs were decade-defining after all. But the presentation of them came across as careless. Kowalczyk stopped after what seemed like every other word (and for entire choruses) to have the crowd sing. While a common concert practice, those songs could have made a hugely impactful statement had the band just dedicated themselves to playing it in its fullest form. The focus should have been more on the performance of the music, as opposed to on fan-pleasing (because surely the execution of the former would ultimately lead to fan enjoyment anyways).

With that said, Live delivered on pretty much every other song of the set. Songs like “Lakini’s Juice” packed a punch. Atop the track’s violent, distorted repetition, Kowalczyk had the opportunity to showcase his talent as a vocalist and performer. And as Live closed with their magnum opus, “Lightning Crashes,” the set came full circle—from Live toying with a gimmicky form of entertainment to the band giving a nod of solid reassurance that they can put on a substantial show if they see it through.  

The vocals of all three frontmen and the unerring talent of the bands—25 years on—remained a constant through all three sets, helping to immortalize a very particular point in time. Live, Bush, and Our Lady Peace may continue to craft more albums, and they may drift farther from the vein of undiluted grungey rock from the genre’s glory days. And it may be 2019. But during the ALTimate Tour, the bands proved the ‘90s haven’t quite run their course just yet.