Articles Garbage Make The Boys All Squirm
From Addicted To Noise

By Clare Kleinedler

Addicted To Noise San Francisco correspondent Clare Kleinedler reports: The name Garbage, for a band, is so, um...cartoon-like. That name is like the ACME of all band names...like you could completely see Angela of "My So Called Life" telling her mom that she's gonna go see a "rock band called Garbage," and then of course, it would be followed by her mother's rolling eyes and a comment like, "Oh, kids today." Then Angela would get that oh-so-misunderstood-Gen X look on her face and sulk right out of the house and into the arms of the "I'm-an-idiot-but-my-hair-looks-cool" Jordan Catolano.

"Ugh! My parents just don't understand me!" she would say, burying her head into Jordon's well-built pubescent chest. "They don't even know who Garbage is! So uncool."

Well, unbelievably enough, the sold-out crowd for the Garbage show at San Francisco's Fillmore last week (Tues., May 7) was made up of about 30 percent parents, or parent-looking type people. And some of them were even wearing Garbage t-shirts: WEIRD.

But then again, it's nice to know that sometimes older does constitute wiser, because the band and the show were incredible.

As the chandeliers dimmed and the crowd quieted, an eerie screech poured out of the speakers. Four shadowy figures sneaked on-stage, picked up their instruments one by one, and waited. "I know what's good for you," breathed singer Shirley Manson over the music. Still unable to be seen, she continued, "I bet you're dying to," as the audience craned their necks, desperately searching for her in the cloud of darkness.

Then BAM! The blue-green lights flashed on, and guitarists Steve Marker and Duke Erikson jumped in unison as they twanged the opening chords for "Queer." Finally giving in to the crowd's demands to see her, Manson slithered on-stage, like a rattlesnake ready to sink its fangs into your flesh. Wearing a white baby t-shirt with no bra, metal-spiked leather collar, short black skirt and her signature knee-high boots, Manson caused just about every guy in the crowd to, um (how do you boys put it?) adjust their package. Believe me, seeing 500 guys squirming all at once is a very powerful experience.

The squirming continued as the band went into "Fix Me Now." Gripping the microphone tightly with one hand and sliding the other up and down the pink mike stand, Manson mind-fucked with the audience as she sang "Fix me now, I wish you would...Fix me like somebody should." Marker, Erikson and drummer/producer Butch Vig were all musically proficient and highly energized, but no one could take their eyes off Manson. She has a incredible talent for commanding the stage; almost as if she's put a spell on everyone in the place.

The band ripped through almost the entire album, including an extraordinary performance of "Stupid Girl," a song which, according to Manson, "Could be and probably should be called 'Stupid Boy.'" With that, the squirming boys were jilted out of their daydreams, scratching their heads with puzzled looks on their faces. But the adjusting resumed the second Manson went into "Dogs New Tricks" and "My Lover's Box," running around the stage in circles, with a deranged look in her eyes. This caused the crowd to follow her lead and start the moshing, and pretty soon the whole place was one, heaping mess of sweaty bodies.

Garbage came back for an encore, playing a cover of Vic Chesnutt's "Kick My Ass," which they just recorded for the upcoming Sweet Relief benefit album. They closed with "As Heaven is Wide," then bounded off the stage, leaving the audience, parents and kids and young adults alike, panting with exhaustion.

One curious note: There was an enormous line of squirming boys leading into the restroom after the show. Now what could that be about?