Michael Stipe could have jumped on stage to duet with Courtney Love on, say, "Pretty Persuasion," an R.E.M. song she often mumbles as one of her originals tapers off. He was in the building, having just fronted a pair of R.E.M. shows at nearby Earl's Court the two previous nights. Alas, he wasn't ready for the call, so there was nothing to rescue Love from a set overflowing with meandering blather, exaggerated phrasing and material from the sugary sweet Celebrity Skin.

Truth be told, the band's live show has lagged since Love went Hole-ywood. If Love's not pulling young lasses on stage, she's pulling at her breasts or using her nightly moment under the spotlight as a vehicle for her assorted musings. Whether it was stabs at Great Britain's crop of young bands ("Name a [good] band other than Radiohead," she said,) or attacks against the nation's youth for excess cynicism, Love squandered entirely too much of her eighty-minute set on vapid oration.

In between the nonsense, some glossy grunge did rear its pretty head: The slow, thunderous roll of "Reasons to Be Beautiful" and the sing-along "Celebrity Skin" were exceptional, but not enough to overcome Love's exaggerated drawl, which saturated nearly every song whether it needed it or not.

Dewey sweet songs like "Malibu" and "Boys on the Radio" were nice in a power pop-by-numbers sort of way, but on both songs the hook-providing dual harmonies of Love and bassist Melissa Auf Der Maur seemed flat and too similar. The conspicuous absence of more material from the acclaimed Live Through This was also an irritant. Only "Violet," "Miss World," "Doll Parts" and "Asking For It," were among the chosen songs, proving that Love's officially made the switch from runny mascara and ripped nylons to bubblegum-colored gowns and lipstick rock.

Still, with Hole still getting an appreciative reaction from the crowd, Love took her fourth or fifth tiresome soliloquy to the point of spoiling any rhythm they'd attained: Following "Boys on the Radio," Love stood atop a wall of speakers and prattled on incoherently over Eric Erlandson's squalls of feedback. After climbing down, she realized, perhaps by glancing at the set list, that it was time to exit in preparation for the encore. "Oh, we have to run now," she remembered after a minute without music. "Goodnight." Not really.

BLAIR R. FISCHER
(June 25, 1999)