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NY Press: Week of 9/1-9/7
Reviewed by JR Taylor - themail@nypress.com I'm not sure how I once ended up backstage after a Throwing Muses show, but I remember being uncomfortable when someone insisted on introducing me to Kristin Hersh. Or, more accurately, to the baby she was cradling at the time. I never have anything nice to say about kids born to single moms. That little bastard's probably a teenager by now, and Hersh still makes me uncomfortable. I certainly don't feel very cool talking about how her new album is really great. Who knew the 90's would work to her advantage? Sky Motel renews the case for quiet introspection in a world where modern rock gals measure the world against their impact. Hersh now writes about growing into troubled maturity instead of using troubles to define growing up. That’s a good message to put out to the world. God knows it’s a good message to put out to any audience who spent their college years listening to Throwing Muses. Not so coincidentally, that’s the audience here to see Hersh perform at tonight’s acoustic show. At least her fans have cleaned up good. It seems a lot of 30-year old ladies in this town can still flaunt the normal-gal look. The men seem nice and sincere too. And you couldn’t ask for a more polite crowd as Hersh starts performing all her fans’ favorites. Everyone’s mesmerized in a frankly creepy way. There’re a few of these types at any show: the scary ones who are really indulging themselves with their deep, personal connection to the artist. This room’s full of that stuff. During any given song, several people are listening w/ strange intensity. They occasionally flinch as if struck, and their hands make small nervous motions as they worry that something will happen to spoil this magic moment. Christ, I hope that’s nostalgia for whatever Hersh song got them through their first homosexual love affair. I’d hate to think all these fine people still need some kind of guiding light through strange neuroses. But this is Manhattan, so there’s every reason to believe these people still take solace from their freshman mix tapes. To her credit, Hersh demonstrates knowing insight into her own work. She introduces one song as something that started as a joke and ended up serious. She says that all she really wanted to do was spoof her “collegiate angst”. So far, this describes the entire T.M. catalog. I’m a little surprised when she then launches into “Hate My Way”. It’s the only T.M. song I really like. She stays on a roll by following with one of the best songs from Sky Motel. She might have considered mentioning that this was from a new album. I count three couples who look at each other in confusion, trying to figure out why they don’t recognize the tune. But the next song has everyone back on track with another reliable indicator of fragile beauty. It’s like this all the way through to Hersh’s saying goodnight. Everyone knows she’ll come back onstage. I stick around, figuring it’ll be fun to discover if there’s a second good T.M. song. If there is, it isn’t the first song she does as an encore. But then she hits us with “Your Ghost”. I completely forgot this middling hit single from her solo debut back in 1994. It’s a quick reminder that she was friends with Michael Stipe before he started hanging out with Courtney Love. “Your Ghost” is the last decent song that Stipe has been allowed to sing on, and it remains Hersh’s shining moment. It’s a tragic cliché renewed by her plaintive nod to post-romantic competition: “I think last night/ You were driving circles around me”. The song’s a perfect finish to the show. It would have been a perfect finish to her career. Unfortunately, the crowd then insists on bringing Hersh back out for two more inconsequential songs. How typical is that? If these people could recognize the one to go out on, then they wouldn’t need a soundtrack like Kristin Hersh. |