There’s something mighty depressing about seeing bands that have zero interest in staying creative in the twilight years of their career. The Violent Femmes abandoned the idea of writing new material at about the turn of the century, conceding to the pressures of nostalgia and playing their half-dozen hits into a distant “Live in Iceland” abyss.
Granted, no one who braved the pre-07-07-07 slot junkies at the VooDoo Lounge at Harrah’s Casino last night wanted to hear a whole set of new material. For the most part, it was a crowd of 30- and 40somethings willing to spend $5 on a whiskey and Coke and risk a fatal head wound at the hands of a clumsy flair bartender (seriously, is anyone still amused by that shit?). If the Femmes had walked out and played 10-minute versions of “Add It Up”, “Gone Daddy Gone” and “Blister in the Sun”, 90 percent of the crowd would have gone home happy.
"Stop us if you've heard this one bef--...never mind."
I suppose that’s the burden of following bands into middle age: if they don’t age with you, they make you feel old. The Femmes felt old last night, and it wasn’t just because of Gordan Gano’s white beach shirt (which would have looked great on an amateur golf pro or a gynecologist). The problem was that nothing was going to happen that was going to make the experience any different than the 20 other shows on the Femmes current tour. And if you think that an audience-participation coda to “Blister in Sun” qualifies as spontaneity, you probably got your $25 bucks worth.
One thing that didn’t falter was Gano’s voice, which sounds every bit as amazing as it did 20 years ago. A voice like that can compensate for a lot of shortcomings – i.e. atrocious wanky fuzz-bass interludes that had everybody throwing up ear muffs. Gano still sang like he meant it, and brush drummer Brian Ritchie did his best to compensate for the band’s lack of energy with jumping jacks, but the overall effect of the band’s performance was akin to Ludacris playing a Sprint banquet: gimme the check and get me outta here.
When a band’s merch table consists of T-shirts, live recordings and solo albums, it’s probably past its heyday. The Violent Femmes can probably beat this horse for another ten years or so before its clinically dead, but it’s going to take a massive amount of steroids – or an unforeseen comeback record – to get back on track.
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