By John Johnson, photos Chaz Dykes of Chaz D Photography
I wanted to title this review James and the Mammoth Bush, but although funny to me, I didn’t want it to be construed as a 70’s porno done in stop motion style. As I have done in the majority of my write-ups, I digress. And right out of the gate too.
There are certain nights where everything just clicks — the weather, the crowd, the music, even the overpriced beer somehow tastes better — and Wednesday night at The Sound was one of those nights. Some may have thought it warm, but being a native, I’m fully aware of what’s to come in a few weeks so the tepid evening was just fine with me. I’m not sure if it was due to the temperature, or maybe the weeknight aspect, but whatever the reason, this show did not have the amount of attendees it should have. Because I’m here to tell you, if you weren’t there, you missed one hell of a concert. The venue itself has become one of my favorites, what with the location by the Gulf of Mexico and its salty breezes, but mostly because of the superb sound system and the stellar staff. Speaking of, I ran into Bobby Rossi as we entered downtown Clearwater’s gem, he introduced us to new entertainment director at Ruth Eckerd Brandon Groc. Truth be told, I know Brandon and having him on board is a win win for both parties and I look forward to seeing him at shows. Picking up my credentials, I noticed in my envelope that I had somehow gotten a Pit Pass, usually reserved for photographers, pointing it out to Bobby, he congenially replied, “Enjoy it from the Pit”. And so, I did just that, and I’m sure the closeness added to the experience.
The night kicked off with James and the Cold Gun, a four-piece band from Wales that sounded like they were shot out of a cannon. I love when an opening act walks onstage with absolutely nothing to lose, because that’s usually when magic happens. Three guys, and one gal on bass, had swagger, loud guitars, and the kind of raw energy that makes you stop scrolling your phone and actually pay attention. I was impressed by how much sound the drummer was getting out of a stripped down kit, and frontman James Joseph worked the sparse crowd like a seasoned vet, and did so with sincerity. He thanked the crowd often and pointed out that the band emptied their accounts to go on this tour and that they were very grateful for “the folks that showed up early.” Within two songs, people around me were nodding along like they’d known the band for years. By the end of their set, they’d officially won over Clearwater, present company included, and I streamed them in my car on the drive home.
Next came Mammoth, led by Wolfgang Van Halen, who continues to prove that while genetics may open a door, talent and perseverance are what keep it open. As the son of the legendary Eddie Van Halen, Wolfgang has spent most of his public life under a microscope, but Mammoth has become much more than a novelty tied to a famous last name. Mammoth was actually the name of his father’s band before they became Van Halen. I’ve missed them the last few times they’ve come through town so I was most excited to see the son of arguably the greatest guitarist ever, and a hero of mine since I was 13. Aptly named, the band sounded massive – tight, polished, and genuinely powerful. Wolfgang handles guitar and vocals on stage, but has the ability to play every instrument up there. Since doing the entire show himself is impossible, he has four exceedingly talented guys delivering Mammoth originals with intensity and brandishing arena sized, and very catchy hooks. Wolfie switches effortlessly between guitar hero moments reminiscent of his Pops and has a really powerful voice. What I liked most was how natural it all felt. He’s not trying to be his father. He’s just being himself, and honestly, that’s probably the coolest thing he could do. Sure, being the son of Eddie Van Halen means he was born with rock-and-roll DNA flowing through his veins, but there’s also an unbelievable amount of pressure attached to that last name. Every internet troll with a keyboard has had an opinion about him for years, and somehow he’s managed to rise above all of it while building a band that genuinely rocks on its own merits. Mammoth sized respect for Wolfgang, and Wolf’s gang. It writes itself.
As mentioned, I had not seen Mammoth live before, and I have seen Bush several times over their near 40 year career, so I was mostly there to see Wolfie and company. But from the jump, Bush made me remember why they’ve lasted as long as they have. Currently in the middle of their “Land of Milk and Honey” tour, and from the moment Gavin Rossdale walked onstage, it was obvious the band had no intention of coasting on nostalgia. At 60 years old, Rossdale remains an absolute force physically and vocally. He moved across the stage with nonstop intensity, still possessing the lean athleticism and charisma that made him one of the defining rock frontmen of the 1990s.
The band came out swinging, starting the show with “Machinehead”, a favorite that easily could have been held for the encore. Moving right into the thought provoking “The Chemicals Between Us” and not slowing down for the next seventeen songs. As stated, Rossdale is captivating and moves like someone half his age, and the mix was incredible, keeping his recognizable tone above the instruments all night. Even though Mr. Rossdale has clearly had a little work done, I was afraid he had a peanut allergy to be honest. Regardless of facial cosmetics, he still commands a two hour rocking show with affluence and bluster. “Everything Zen”, “Greedy Fly”, “Little Things” and “Ghost in the Machine” sounded as if they were lifted right off their respective albums, with newer songs entwined seamlessly. Again, I have to give more props to the board, because the mix was stellar. Rossdale took center stage, solo, around song thirteen to perform the mesmerizing “Glycerine”, strumming his Strat and delivering the lyrics with profound passion, turning into a giant singalong that echoed into the Clearwater night sky. Wrapping the main set with “Flowers on a Grave”, Rossdale made his way into the aforementioned pit to connect with the audience. Zeroing in on a young fan who had been hugging the railing since the moment he stepped on stage, he planted himself in front of her and sang to her as if she were the only other person in the arena. The young super fan, 13 year old Emily Elliot I found out, sang every word along with him as they held hands and swayed back and forth. It was very touching and promising to witness a girl her age appreciating “older” music and the live music experience. Kudo’s to her parents.
The band returned for an encore of three tunes, beginning with “Swallowed” and ending the special evening with “Comedown”. By the time the final notes rang out over the water, it was clear to me that this wasn’t just another package tour. It was three bands at very different stages of their careers all basically proving the same thing: rock music still exists and should be seen LIVE. As I walked back through downtown Clearwater afterward with my ears ringing and half the chorus of “Machinehead” still stuck in my brain, I realized something: how lucky I am to attend concerts regularly and that being the same age as Rossdale, I need to get in shape.
Now. Go Out and See, Hear and Feel Live Music.
