From: g…@panix.com (Gordon Fitch)
Subject: Review of 2/15 Hole Concert at Roseland
Date: 19 Feb 1995 19:47:27 -0500

I arrived late because my job is in darkest New Jersey.
Crossed the great water from Staten Island, plunged into
the subway, passed through tired commuters, beautiful
weeping acoustic guitarist, shouting preacher, shouting
crazyman, shrieking and grinding trains, surfaced into cool
rainy neony streetlit New York City midtown night, where
scalpers were hawking Hole tickets at $50 each and endless
taxis honked. Follwed the crowd to Roseland.

I got frisked at the door, very thoroughly; I suppose the
fat thug on guard thought I, being a literal graybeard, had
to be carrying recording equipment, or perhaps he wanted to
cop a feel of my lithe, if antiquated, body. Meditatively
he squeezed my keys. Then I was released, and I made my
way into the inner darkness where the show was in progress,
with Motel Shootout on the stage. It was about 8 o’clock.

The crowd was more varied than the one at last year’s Stone
Pony concert, where I was probably the only middle-aged
person not a father protecting his daughters from the
dangers of the mosh pit. There, high-schoolers
predominated; at Roseland, there were more people who
seemed to be in their twenties, or older. In front of the
stage, the crowd was too densely packed to mosh. A few
people managed to surf, got thrown in the bouncer run in
front of the stage, and climbed back or left. There were a
few Courtneys in the crowd, and a few Goths as well.
Unlike our February 16th reviewer, I did not see anyone
displaying prestigious books, and I kept my own well
hidden.

I cleverly made my way past the packed crowd to the side of
the stage, where some trunks had been upended to provide a
kind of barrier. These were untenanted, so I leaned on
one. I found I was about forty feet from stage center, and
directly in front of all the neat equipment used to control
the sound, light, and smoke (except for that produced by
the audience, which had a distinct gageish tinge.) After
awhile others discovered how clever I had been, but in
spite of some judicious shoving, they were unable to
dislodge me from my post.

I found Motel Shootout’s music passable, their postgrunge
act someone unconvincing, however. They played for about
half an hour more, and departed. Some person of
imaginative taste put _The_Cure_for_Pain_ (Morphine) on
the sound system. After a mere forty minutes or so, and
pretty much on time, Hole appeared on stage. I had been
hoping they would come past the area I was next to, but no
such luck; I’ll have to wait until next time to chat
Courtney up about our Internet correspondence (one message
each way a long time ago).

I found that I was about 20 feet from Melissa, and had a
good view of Courtney and Patty. Eric was at the far side
of the stage. To start the concert, Courtney threw water
from a Naya bottle and little mint valentines to the
crowd. Baptism and communion? She continued to do this in
between songs, plus, I believe, a doll or two. At the
beginning of the concert she was wearing a short black
dress with a kind of incredible push-up bra effect; it
didn’t look like very conducive to singing, but I suppose
one sings mostly with one’s diaphragm, not the upper
chest. Her mane was not as full as sometimes; possibly its
leoninity was reduced by the wet weather.

The first few songs were marred by equipment difficulties,
which made the band nervous and threw them off somewhat;
Courtney and Melissa were signaling and conferring with the
fellow running the board in the midst of trying to play.
This meant that it took them longer to get warmed up; four
or five songs, instead of two or three. Most of the songs
were from _Live_Through_This_ plus a number of favorites
from _Pretty_on_the_Inside_. Also, they did “Beautiful
Son” and two other songs I did not recognize, one of which
had a bluesy drone I liked quite a bit. I believe Courtney
said it was an old song, but I don’t know whether this
meant it was a cover or a song that had been composed by
Hole but left out of the albums. I hope they keep it in
the repertoire.

I was not able to observe all of Courtney’s interactions
with the audience because the speakers occluded my view of
the front of the stage, but at one point she pulled a young
man out of the audience onto the stage, wrestled with him
briefly, and then had him make a brief speech, after which
he jumped back into the pit. Later, she seemed to be
leaning over the audience allowing those who could reach
her guitar to play it. However, she didn’t jump on the
crowd, to my relief; I think she’s reached the degree of
fame, and audiences have reached the size, where serious
nut cases are likely to be present. I noticed in regard to
this that, as I predicted, Frances Bean wasn’t present for
this performance, at least not as far as I could see. In
general the crowd was very enthusiastic, occasionally
shouting some of the more familiar passages.

I mustn’t forget the disco balls. Roseland has disco
balls, and Courtney demanded they be produced, lowered, and
twirled, and it was so. Robot stage lights nodded to them
and each other through the haze.

Towards the end of the concert, Hole disappeared for
awhile, and then returned with Courtney wearing a red
dress, somewhat looser than the previous black dress, for
the last two or three songs. It was a long concert, more
than two hours. Finally, the band left the stage and
Courtney tore up all the equipment, convincing the audience
that the show was over.

In general I think the band is more coherent than they were
at the Stone Pony, so that they can play around more: Eric,
for instance, at one point used a piece of cloth to brush
the strings of his guitar to good effect, and played with
the feedback quite a bit.

They’re getting very good. Their sound seemed to me
somewhat more spare to me than either the other concert or
the records, which I liked, but that may be because I was
behind the speakers. Also, I was out of the way of the
struck-by-lightning effect I got by being right in front of
the stage at the Stone Pony. Courtney is a very powerful
performer; the only person I’ve seen outside of grand opera
who projects herself as powerfully is Diamanda Galas. I
hope she can keep it up.

The prig squad will be dismayed to hear that the band all
appeared to be stony-cold sober, well-rested, in good
health, and fully competent.