Muse

Shuffling across the vast expanse of the Rod Laver Arena floor this particular evening yielded great excitement for the Muse faithful, three tall spires resembling bullet-gray apartment towers placed before them upon the stage. The extensive and indeed expensive setup ensured that eager fans had confirmed for them that which they had long suspected of a night with beloved band: they were in for a spectacle.

In support were Biffy Clyro, Scotland’s own alternative-rock trio. It was a disappointing show considering they are supposed to be in award-winning form with music that was seldom moving or unique. Worse still, they had their own self-imposed genre-based prison which made the set completely boring and it faded off fairly quickly. They seemed content repeatedly going back to past rock and roll and radio-ripe ballads, ultimately making their performance sound stale and old. Whilst there were notable elements of appeal for Muse fans on display - such as the energy and the intensity of the band’s performance, matching their furious, gritty aesthetic - there were few surprises on offer, resulting in a bland, safe experience shunning audience interest.

The ballads really don't do any good for band with disappointing lyrical content, indulging in shallow anthems for the downtrodden with embarrassing results. At times its a basic excercise in cut and paste, familiar notions - being together, being apart, things not lasting forever - transplanted into their own work. It’s all very in-eloqeuent, unsubtle and frankly they owe their contemporaries, such as Dashboard Confessional, substantial royalties if they continue with these mildly-offensive, pseudo-emotional pieces. The only difference here, perhaps, is that Dashboard somehow get away with it.

It’s these interludes within the set that make you wish Biffy Clyro would concentrate on pandering to a heavier sound alone. However, whatever they attempted at Rod Laver indicated they’re a band currently drifting without spark enough to separate them from the pack. It’s not as if they’re bad musicians nor devoid of talent. It’s probably just time to start breaking a few creative rules in the name of musical experimentation.

Following the timely departure of Biffy Clyro, an enormous road crew invaded the stage in preparation for an intricate concert spectacular. Lighting rigs raised high above the stage were soon manned, resembling rotating turrets of rainbow beams just one piece of an elaborate jigsaw. Soon, darkness fell upon the arena as all eyes turned once more to the gigantic spires and their surrounding curtains. Hydraulic platforms emerged from the stage, raising Muse before their adoring many. The curtains dropped and Uprising signaled the arrival of the band sensationally. With each word, their fans united in a sea fist-pumping glory, loyal to the command of an enchanting tour de force. Muse were completely and utterly in control.

As you would expect, their fine form proved relentless and worked to match the theater of their stage show. Matt Bellamy, glistening in sparkly sequined attire, would strut confidently from one wing to another, the band’s masterful riffs performed effortlessly. Barely missing a beat, Bellamy somehow made rock and roll look like little more than a walk in the park in an awe-inspiring display. Bassist Christopher Wolstenholme, meanwhile, perpetuated a calm, modest front throughout the set, with drummer Dominic Howard working tirelessly from his own personal rotating platform.

In fans’ eyes, Muse could do no wrong. Newborn and its chaotic cymbal-crashes caused the arena erupt yet again, degenerating into a beautiful, dirty mess. Supermassive Black Hole became a highlight, Bellamy leading thousands in song with a typically flawless falsetto. The head-banging Hysteria only upped the ante with its roaring, supercharged riff, its outro including a surprise nod to AC/DC’s Back In Black. The band’s newer material represented intermittently throughout the night, but it became clear that the fans’ favourites were stuck in the past. Despite a few obvious diversions - such the a thinly-veiled dilute of Queen in United States Of Eurasia - the band were happy to oblige.

Sunburn was one such addition to the set, with singles Undisclosed Desires and Time Is Running Out similarly terrific. It mattered not if you were seated or standing: in addition to the music, those in attendance were bombarded with visual information, the show notable for the spires’ visualisations, the sporadic laser shows and Bellamy’s ingenious control of a spotlight to illuminate sections of the arena. There would be one more song before the band’s first and only break of the evening: Plug In Baby. Suddenly, giant eyeball balloons had been unleashed upon the pit, bouncing merrily from the palms and fists of awestruck punters.

Muse would return to the stage moments later for their encore. The best had been saved until last, Knights Of Cydonia proving the showstopping finale to an epic evening. It would be another chance for their fans to reunite in voice, roaring heartily each line woven amidst the galloping rock anthem. It was an unforgettably explosive conclusion to the evening, Muse leaving an undeniable impression on a rapturous crowd.

As for negatives concerning the performance, one may only be pedantic. It could be said that Muse, beyond an admirable array of dazzling gimmicks, rarely engaged with their audience. The question certainly is what one should say to thousands of fans in an arena show? Well, something. Anything, really. Though it’s true that their show had been a rock and roll masterclass, it had been one without heart, at times mechanical and methodical. So much of the above account may suggest otherwise, but to clarify, the musicians themselves are forever as important as the music. The personality of each member never shone through and a genuine connection with the audience - beyond an induced magpie-mentality of an attraction to grandiose, shiny things - was never of great interest to them.

Still, it’s a minor grievance in what was a top-notch evening, placing Muse as among the finest exponents of stadium rock. Given their affinity for Australia, the good news is that it might not be too long before they make their way to our shores for another epic extravaganza.

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