We went to see Henry Rollins at the Seymour Centre tonight. As soon as we got there we were told that it would be three hours long with NO Intermission and we were advised to use the facilities before we were seated. It was an impromptu decision to come along after some friends had pulled out and they were unable to exchange or refund their tickets. I was given five minutes to decide whether I wanted to go or not. In this time I hesitated only because at $55 a ticket, it was difficult to accept such an opportunity without offering recompense but at the same time I was certain I wouldn’t have paid the aforementioned sum to watch an angry old rocker pontificate about his take on the meaning of life and the universe through a loud microphone on an otherwise empty stage. Other than this momentary apprehension I am generally enthusiastic about spontaneous and short-notice events.
I have never seen Black Flag or Rollins Band in concert before- their heyday was a little before my time. I was, naturally, a little sceptical about him, if only for the reason that so many young men take his word as gospel. His celebrity as ‘guru’ for the disaffected and oppressed made me suspicious, wasn’t the idea NOT to believe in what people told you? But the thought of watching this old ‘hard-core’ punk rocker intrigued me, particularly the possibility of being genuinely provoked (PROVOKE was the name of the show!) or at the very least irritated by some angry, simplistic opinions.
I think I knew my expectation would not be met when Rollins opened his monologue with a respectful mention of ANZAC day of which he was certain on the ‘bravery of Australian soldiers’ and conceded that he personally, was unable to pass remark on the war, as he had never fought one. It was all very diplomatic indeed and when I looked around the sold-out theatre, comfortably seated in the padded chairs was a well-dressed, mid-20s to 50 year old demographic. I spotted a mohawk on one fellow decked in rather elegant attire and wondered at which point did all these once radical, ‘fuck authority’ folks become so genteel.
Rollins proved to be a wonderful comic. He is a formidable mimic and his physical gesticulating and postures were captivating, even on the prop-less stage in a plain black t-shirt and black trousers. (When he first came onto the stage I mistook him for a theatre-worker.)
I was a little troubled watching his brand of gay rights activism, which involved fairly crude caricatures on anal sex and a detailed tangent on bestiality. I guess I’m rather traditional in my understanding on activism (you can’t be a feminist if you’re a man!) but I’m not quite sure where Rollins gets his sense of proprietary over an issue that he is not personally defending and that he depicts to such comic effect.
There was a lot of ‘opining and whining’ about his own country, America, of which he was conscious of and apologised for. I wonder then, if he was conscious of his ingratiating habit of complimenting every place and group of people he mentioned in his speech, which I find peculiar to Americans: “I was in Chicago, Illinois, a great place, such a great town…”; “So I went to Damascus, Syria, oldest city in the world, great place, really nice people…”; “You Australians are so nice, so tanned and so together…” etc. With all that unctuous banter, I felt as though we were being buttered up to be fried with some nasty criticisms on the state of our own country, but the counter-balance of sentiment was not forthcoming.
A recurring idea in Rollins’ speech was that progress and the advancement of humankind was essential (it’s okay to be lofty, I enjoyed the idealism) and that ‘hope’ and ‘pride’ were, in his words ‘resting phases’. However, when he complimented us with “Australia voted for change.’ and other such congratulatory sentiments he left the audience with that very stagnating belief. There is inevitably a great deal of schadenfreude when we cast our eye to the tragicomic follies of the US and I think it was too easy for him to criticise America to an Australian audience. The poking-fun at overweight, apathetic, ignorant, arms-bearing yanks has been well covered by Michael Moore and I would have preferred for him to take on touchier issues, closer to home.
But in the end, to be critical of his energetic act seems rather ungrateful. The grey-haired Rollins stood for the entire duration, with his microphone in hand speaking a mile-a-minute, pausing to take a sip of water only once. The time passed quite quickly and he had everyone, including myself, hanging on his every word. He left us with a lot to think about, I’ll be reflecting about all that he said for a while yet. Wouldn’t it be great if political commentary could always be such feel-good entertainment? I haven’t laughed so much in a long time.
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