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By Jon Roig
Arizona Daily Wildcat
October 10, 1996
Ahh ... Type O Negative. I don't know why I keep dragging myself to these shows, as they inevitably seem to be a bit disappointing. Maybe it's the venue - even though the Paragon's staff seems incredibly helpful and friendly, the stage setup leaves a lot to be desired. Because the stage is set so low, it's almost impossible to see the band unless you're way in back or you've battled your way to the front. The beer prices are insane - $3.50 for a bottle of domestic like Rolling Rock. Come on guys, that's out of control.
But blaming the club for the evening's flaws is too easy - I've seen a lot of really great bands conquer a venue's shortcomings and still play an incredible set. Take opening band Stuck Mojo, for instance. Even under the adverse conditions of the Paragon, the grindcore-rap hybrid managed to put on an amazing show. Cookie Monster background vocals, rhythmic rapping, and chug-a-chug guitar formed a perfect unholy union; they're vaguely reminiscent of Rage Against the Machine, but more rockin' than technical and more hard-core than pretensions. Stuck Mojo is the metal band of the future - I'm convinced of it now. It was completely entertaining watching the singer apply a belt sander to a block of metal, sending sparks flying into an eager crowd. It's a tricky move - I've seen other bands try it with bad results, but for some reason it worked for them. No, maybe it wasn't Kiss, but Stuck Mojo didn't need a big pyrotechnic show to get the crowd fired up.
If only the other two acts could live up to their prime example. Life of Agony... their name says it all. 'Nuff said about that. And Type O Negative? Well, I had to know.
See ... I like Type O Negative. Their albums are masterpieces of metal and mirth, an equal balance of humor and epicness. Who else would release an eight minute song about hair dye, complete with several different intricately-constructed musical movements?
Unfortunately though, their music doesn't seem suited to a live reproduction. It did answer a few questions, but it left just as many unanswered. Nobody seems willing to discuss Type O Negative's propensity towards zaniness. In fact, I just get a lot of strange looks when I try to bring it up. Just the same, instead of the standard scary rock band smoke machine schtick, these Brooklyn vampires brought along a snow machine. Believe me, you haven't lived until you've seen an artificial foam snowstorm slowly descend on a crowd of sweaty hessians and goths.
Visually, Type O Negative was quite stimulating, I'll give them that. The whole stage was a spooky pagan forest, replete with dead vegetation and pumpkins. The 6-foot-6-inch singer and bassist Peter Steele is built like a tree - he looks like a giant version of Glen Danzig. The chicks dug that. But it was the music that let me down. They were loud, sure ... my ears are still ringing 2 days after the show, but in a live setting the nuances that make their work valuable and interesting blur together into one, throbbing low end growl. It got dull and repetitive very quickly.
Hey, what can I say? I was disappointed, but everyone else seemed to be enjoying themselves.
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