Satellite Party at the Fillmore in New York 9/5/2007

Huge, slick, ostentatious hard rock has been a bafflingly popular genre for nigh on thirty years. I've spent most of my music-listening life wondering how people could continually get into music that was, to me anyway, one-note, unoriginal and largely uninspiring.

From 70s arena rock to 80s glam and hair metal to the empty hooks of Andrew W.K. and the last gropes for popularity of Velvet Revolver, people have consistently and inexplicably supported a host of lively yet paper-thin rock acts. Any time I heard such, the result was invariably a quick eye roll, a twist of the radio dial or a rapid retreat to more substantive surroundings. For a couple of hours on one muggy New York night, however, the unlikely duo of a former reality show contestant and an aging rock icon turned me into a believer.

Neal Carlson – once a contestant on Rock Star: INXS, the reality show to find a replacement for INXS singer Michael Hutchence – led opening band Mink through a ridiculously high energy set that borrowed heavily from the driving rhythms that propelled the last three decades of hard rock but managed to also infuse bits of the jangly dance grooves prominent in a lot of current indie-rock. They had a giant, crisp sound and the type of earnest yet lighthearted vibe that translated into one damned fun live show. Carlson, for his part, adopted the look (though not quite the stage presence) of a young Steven Tyler and the voice of a young Jon Bon Jovi. The high point for me, however, was drummer Stella Mozgawa. A rock band playing live can live or die by what goes on behind the kit and Mozgawa was wild and totally insane in all of the best ways. With flawless execution, boundless passion for the music and completely irreverent antics, she probably would have been a blast to watch by herself. While not overall innovative or groundbreaking, Mink was entertaining as hell and is certainly a band worth keeping an eye or ear open for.

While I could gush for quite a while about the surprising exuberance of Mink, I actually don't have a whole lot to say about Satellite Party. On the one hand we have a frontman with tight, sparkling alligator skin pants and matching sparkling wife-beater with a scantily clad backup singer playing the part of 80s video-vixen – and really, does it get much tackier than that? – and on the other hand we have Perry Farrell rocking the @!$%# out. Farrell looks to have aged more years than he has lived but hasn't lost his live edge and is still a commanding, charismatic presence on stage, though the band was more aurally compelling than visually exciting. The crowd of Jane's Addiction faithful hung on his every word and movement (even more so during the several Jane's songs played during the night) and from a spectator's point of view the adulation flowing from the floor to the stage mixed with the grit, sex and visceral bliss emanating from the band formed the recipe for a quintessential rock show.

As I left that night my attitude toward hard rock was slightly changed. While the music will probably still not find a place among the wax, plastic or 1s and 0s of my personal collection, the unadulterated pleasure and power of the this brand of rock played live isn't something I'll ever scoff at again. It's music for the sake of enjoyment, offered in the spirit of instant gratification and skillfully delivering both time and time again.

Originally posted to NewYorkCool.

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