Review: Stench permeates Stabbing Westward, God Lives Underwater

Geoff Carter

Monday, June 29, 1998 | 5:40 a.m.

Stabbing Westward and God Lives Underwater quite literally stank up the Joint last night. Somebody in the concert crowd at the Hard Rock venue was passing around the foulest-smelling dope I've had the displeasure of whiffing secondhand.

Gee, where were all the undercover cops that were present for the Crystal Method show a few nights back, when they could have performed a real boon to mankind?

Truth to tell, I don't smoke the stuff, and was affronted. Similarly, I've never cared for Stabbing Westward's cheap copy of Nine Inch Nails and was insulted when they proved to be even worse on stage than on record.

They may taken pains to fashion an artfully minimalist stage setup (Ooh, love that distressed gray tarpaulin backdrop - so original!) crank their amps to ear-bleed levels and pepper their stage banter with obscenities, but they can't fool me. The band behaves like a pure record-label construct. Every time they churn out a groove it sounds like cash drawers opening and closing.

God Lives Underwater was worse still. A disaffected, atonal bunch of baby Cobains, the band was so pointlessly bombastic that I firmly believe they are being paid by the decibel. Both bands cranked their rhythm sections louder than the vocals, which was fine. I don't imagine they were saying anything worthwhile.

I don't know - perhaps I'm getting too old for "the kids music." I can't understand why this gibberish is holding favor on the same radio stations that play vastly superior bands - KMFDM, Sister Machine Gun and Course of Empire, to name a few - with the same sound. I guess if one smokes enough of that stinky weed, anything sounds good.