subURBAN MYTHS
I was listening to a local sports radio show featuring a playback of Mark McGwire's recent homeruns, set to the tune of, what else, "Bittersweet Symphony." Undeniably a brilliant song, with both commercial value and critical acclaim, tainted by the fact that the tune was lifted from a Rolling Stones song, The Verve seems to be reaching for perfection, while being tied down by the inflated ego of singer Richard Ashcroft. The Verve show at the Bill Graham Civic Auditorium in San Francisco was lackluster and frankly boring. The slide show before the show had a greater entertainment value than the concert. Richard had the audacity to introduce Bittersweet Symphony as "one of the greatest songs ever written," (giving no credit to the real author). One of the few interesting features was a pedal steel guitarist who, when audible, added a country/blues feel. Unfortunately, without Nick McCabe, The Verve is merely "The Richard Ashcroft Band," a band with no energy. Richard's feeble attempt to fill in with chord strumming is a far cry from Nick's orchestral guitar style. Having heard and seen The Verve several times prior to their recent successes, I have come to expect mezmerizing, rebellious, triumphant, hopeful energy and power. I love The Verve. But "The Richard Ashcroft Band" is like watching a dude at a party playing love songs to a bunch of half-interested school kids.
In the middle of the set, I think Richard dedicated a song to Nick McCabe. As I recall, it was "Lucky Man," referring to the liberation of Nick from the tyranny of Dick Ashcroft -- proof that Nick is the catalyst and essence of
The Verve. At the Warfield show, which preceded the Civic Auditorium show, The Verve blanketed the crowd with a kind of sonic fallout, beginning with, "A New Decade," and entranced us with "A Man Called Sun."