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Billy Idol is a living blueprint for VH1's Behind the Music. He has a culturally significant past (the Bromley Contingent), a failed but influential first band (Generation X), solo superstardom, excesses that nearly killed him (motorcycle accident, drug overdose), a clever comeback (The Wedding Singer), a well-received new album (Devil's Playground), and has always maintained a sense of humor about his place in history. Taking the stage in Cleveland with the partner in his most successful endeavors, guitarist Steve Stevens, Idol gyrated, teased, joked, and delivered exactly the kind of show you hope to see from an aging rock icon.
Idol has a funny habit of covering other artists' songs, so it wasn't surprising that the two-hour set touched on nearly every aspect of his own career and hit on that of a few others. He has recorded tunes by the Doors, Simple Minds, and Mungo Jerry, and, in Ohio, he added a new one to the repertoire. If I told you he covered Van Halen's "Jump", what would your reaction be? Mine was much like the crowd around me: I experienced nervous laughter during the opening keyboard riff, uneasy confusion as it became clear that he really was going to do the song, and, ultimately, I bought into it.
The run-through of Mungo Jerry's "In the Summertime" was breezy and appropriate, much like the version found on keyboardist Derek Sherinian's recently released solo album, Blood of the Snake (which features Idol on vocals and Slash on guitar). The Doors' "L.A. Woman" carried with it a drawn-out psychedelic freak-out jam. Idol tossed logo-ed cloth Frisbees into the crowd during this rock session, a scenario that would repeat itself throughout the night -- much to my dismay.
Along with that cover's extended guitar solo centerpiece were several other -- in other words, far too many -- extended guitar solo jams. While Stevens is an undeniably exceptional guitarist, I would have preferred hearing fewer in-song solos in favor of the criminally absent "Cradle of Love" -- or even Cyberpunk's "Shock to the System".
The only other complaint is that, as I said, Idol spent a large part of the night tossing sundry "stuff" into the crowd . . . things like autographed drum sticks, scraps of paper, and the aforementioned cloth Frisbees (also available for sale in the lobby). He actually gave out an entire case of water -- one bottle at a time-- over the course of a single song! And when he wasn't throwing things into the crowd to the point of distraction, Idol had the peculiar habit of spending time at the back corner of the drum riser, playing a single cymbal with intense concentration.
Peccadilloes aside, Idol's show and showmanship were fantastic. The classics were delivered with professionalism and a freshness that belied the age of both the songs and the performers. For a man who has notoriously abused his body, the former William Broad looks incredible. His physique hardly went unnoticed, as Idol stripped off his t-shirt after just two songs. It was the first of three wardrobe changes and the start of much chest-baring. Seeing him on stage -- ripped abs, pumping fist, gyrating pelvis, signature sneer -- it was hard to believe that the man will be 51 in November.
After Idol turned to his musical soul mate and told him, "Steve, show 'em what a hit song sounds like," the crowd reacted to Stevens' shredding opening guitar of "White Wedding, Pt. 1" with a storm surge of intensity. Classics like "To Be a Lover", "Rebel Yell" (introduced as "the new American anthem!"), "Hot in the City", and the barely-contained raw energy of the Generation X nugget "Ready Steady Go" played equally well. There was a strong rockabilly bent throughout the evening, courtesy of the song selection, and a bit of Spanish flair thanks to Stevens' rendition of "Eyes Without a Face". But the evening never felt forced; it was far from a has-been's last stand. The show was fresh, fun, and (yes) vital.
Tommy James and the Shondells' set-closing "Mony Mony" helped solidify the band's genuine sense of fun. It's a song that still plays well live, especially when you're surrounded by 1,200 other people also screaming "Hey! Get laid! Get fucked!" at the top of their lungs in pure juvenile glee.
All five band members strapped on guitars (drummer Brian Tichy handed off the sticks for the duration of the song), and ended the show by throwing a wall of sound at the very lip of the stage. When the roar of multiple pulsating guitars was replaced by the crowd's ravenous approval and the rest of the band had left the stage, Idol stood alone, grinning from ear to ear, and sang a few a capella bars of "we'll meet again some sunny day," letting out a bit of a laugh as he made his way backstage, alive and well.
— 17 August 2006
