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Tedious Bush show is a disaster

Bush is like a pile of doggie doodie -- the stinkier it is, the more flies it attracts.

This was the case at the surprisingly sold-out show at the Palace of Auburn Hills Wednesday night, where the British Nirvana rip-off Bush headlined over the Goo Goo Dolls and No Doubt in what was an evening of utterly terrible and tedious music.

As a music reviewer, I've had the opportunity to see hundreds of bands perform live. Some were great, and others, well, weren't. It is safe to say however, that Bush's Wednesday performance was the worst live musical concert this reviewer has ever had the displeasure of witnessing. Collective Soul was boring; Warrant was bad; and Candlebox even worse. But never, in all the shows I have seen, have I ever witnessed such a horrendous live band as Bush.

The mere fact that this was the first rock concert I ever fell asleep at is a testament itself to the sense of boredom felt while having to watch Gavin Rossdale, vocalist and lead guitarist for Bush, sing and moan his meaningless dribble over a terribly long hour and a half. As if they aren't bad enough on their record, hearing Bush's music live took me to a new level of hatred for the band.

Kicking off the triple bill show was the quirky punk outfit No Doubt, who were in Detroit just a couple weeks ago opening for Everclear. The band played their big radio hit, "I'm Just A Girl," and a bunch of other tracks from their latest record, along with a few of their other oldies. Singer Gwen Stafani jumped around the stage quite happily, but her high-pitched vocals became a bit annoying.

With hair flailing, the Goo Goo Dolls came out next, opening with their latest single, "Naked." The Goo Goos were definitely the highlight of the show, with their sweet poppy melodies and fun attitude. Bassist Robby Takac sang a number of tracks with his hoarse and not-so-melodic voice. But lead vocalist and guitarist Johnny Rzeznick saved the day with a rocking rendition of the group's recent breakthrough hit, "Name." With the disco ball shining and the crowd screaming, "Name" was the best sounding of the band's material.

"This is one of the first few places where we've come and people gave a shit about us, so thanks," Rzeznick said as the band closed their set.

Now it was time for the big guns -- Bush. The house went black, with only blue spotlights shining through the smoke that was pouring off the stage. After five minutes of blue light and some terrible scraping noise sample being looped over the speakers, Gavin and his crew took the stage. They ran into one of the many generic grunge tracks off their debut, "Sixteen Stone," and then another, and then another.

By this time, it was evident the band was there to be pompous and to pose for the mostly 16-year-old audience. Off-key and speaking incoherently, Rossdale screamed in his British accent, "Hello Detroit, how you doing?" and broke into a lazy version of their MTV darling "Comedown."

To prove he's more sex object than artist, between songs Rossdale pulled up his shirt to get a rise out of the ladies.

The band continued on their long and boring trip through the filler that comprises their record, dominated by Rossdale's less-than-perfect vocals and the rest of the band's loose and lackadaisical approach to the songs.

Besides the poor sound mix, Bush's performance of their music was terrible. Almost all of the songs were slowed with extra soloing and filler added to bore the audience, in what was obviously becoming a pitiful musical performance. Between his "Fuck yeah, Detroit"s and his growling screams, Rossdale went on to sing the band's hit "Little Things" in his grovely and whiny voice. By this point in the show, the singer's antics were getting old, the music tiresome, and prayers of a quick and painless end were being recited across the arena.

Finally the first set was over.

But the best was yet to come. Bush hadn't played their two smash hits "Glycerine" or "Everything's Zen," so the encore seemed a bit predictable. Rossdale came out solo to perform "Glycerin" and a new track he said he had written. Not able to write a decent song if his life depended on it, Rossdale performed both the old and new songs with his usual empty passion. Then the rest of the guys came back out, guitarist Nigel Pulsford, bassist Dave Parsons and drummer Robin Goodridge, and played a terrible and slow dragged-out 10-minute version of "Everything's Zen."

Just when I was sure the show was finally over, the band broke into another song. This one sounded familiar, but it wasn't a Bush song. It was being played with the same drum beat from "Little Things" (which Bush ripped off from the Offspring), like the rest of their songs, but there was something vaguely familiar about it. Yes, it must be the mandatory cover to wrap up the show, "But what is it?" I asked myself.

When Rossdale began to sing the words, "This one goes out to the one I love / This one goes out to the one I left behind," I knew Bush had found the only thing that could spread the icing over their dog pie cake -- they covered R.E.M. Bush trudged through an insulting and blasphemous version of R.E.M.'s "The One I Love," dragging out their sickening show for yet another 10 minutes.