Muse, Metric scald faces with giant rock show Friday night at SXSW

Image Credit: Whitney Pastorek/EW.comOne of SXSW’s newer and more questionable traditions is the giant rock show from the giant rock band that’s supposed to be a “secret” but everyone knows is coming because there’s a big gap in the schedule at Stubb’s. Last year’s big ticket was Metallica, sponsored by Rock Band; this year, the Twilight-inspiring Brits of Muse stepped up for a thunderous performance, sponsored by MySpace. We could argue all week about the value of allowing an established, globe-trotting group to suck audience (and journalists) away from the 2000+ up-and-coming acts performing in tiny clubs all over Austin, but the show Muse put on last night was pretty inarguable. As for opening act Metric: best set I’ve seen all week. So I won’t argue with that, either.

I’m new to the Muse-verse, having recently purchased Black Holes & Revelations under some duress only to discover that I kind of really like it. It brings me back to my keytar-loving 8th grade dance days, in the best possible way. My knowledge of this group being spotty at best, however, I was extremely pleased to walk out of the photo pit and bump square into Ann Powers of the L.A. Times, aka Ann Powers, Knower Of All Things Muse. This was an amazing coincidence — the backyard was so packed that rumors of Kristen Stewart’s presence at Stubb’s were only coming in via texts from people in venues across town.

The guys started off the set sans comment with two songs I knew: a crunching version of “Uprising,” whose slight disco backbeat I find irresistable on the radio, followed by the industrial falsetto come-ons of “Supermassive Black Hole.” I wrote down one word: Epic. And it was! All those cameraphones and hands in the air, blocking my view of lead singer Matthew Bellamy; those flashing OMG lasers!!!1!; the rumble of Christopher Wolstenholme’s bass sticking to my ribs like pulled pork. Sensory heaven, really. Threaded through their 12-song set, I heard strands of System of a Down, Radiohead, Depeche Mode, A-Ha. Ann explained the way Jeff Buckley and Timbaland have influenced Bellamy’s vocals and compositions, and when he sat down at his white piano for “United States of Eurasia,” the amount of Queen pouring off the stage would have made Adam Lambert blush. As though to temper their Euro-heavy sound for the Texans in the room, Bellamy also tried out a few bars of a Hendrix-lite “Star Spangled Banner,” and threw the guitar break from AC/DC’s “Back in Black” into “Hysteria.” (AC/DC aren’t American, but that song might as well be.) Even the encore of “Knights of Cydonia” came with a harmonica intro.

According to Ann, last night’s production was a hugely stripped-down cousin to what she’d seen on the road this year. I’d been expecting eyeball balloons to float into the crowd. Also missing, apparently, were some hydraulic projection towers. But when the music you’re making is this compelling — even to someone who’s never heard most of it before, but who thinks “Starlight” is a completely perfect song — do you really need all that stuff?

Now. See above. Metric. My favorite show of the festival so far. Is this because I already know and love Metric? Or because sparkly silver frontwoman Emily Haines is such a blast to watch? Not sure how it happens, but she always looks like she’s leaning into a stiff breeze, the wind blowing back her blond hair — even if there’s no wind. (She’s like Karen O’s lighter, more hyper cousin.) Haines pogoed around the stage, shook her head side to side, did the Molly Ringwald, exhorted the crowd to pump their ample arms. They started out with “Twilight Galaxy,” cracking open the earth (and the low end of Haines’ Moog) with a thrash ending that set the pace for the rest of the hour. “Help I’m Alive” had fists beating like a hammer, and the luscious “more and more, more and more” harmonies in “Gold Guns Girls” brought a spontaneous grin to my face.

“I have this superstitious thing,” Haines told us, while introducing a slowed-down, utterly romantic cover of fellow Canadian Neil Young’s “My My, Hey Hey.” Rock n’ roll is here to stay. “Every day I repeat this to myself, and I hope it’s true,” said Haines. The cover segued into “Gimme Sympathy” (“Who’d you rather be / the Beatles or the Rolling Stones”), then the appropriately titled “Sick Muse,” which got some of the crowd pogoing, too. “Dead Disco” took on new volume/tempo shifts and new emotion, giving us a breather before the ride climaxed with “Stadium Love,” during which I was too busy jumping up and down to notice much of anything besides I LOVE THAT SONG. Back at the bar after the lights came up, I found myself standing next to a stranger, both of us singing that final song’s oooh-oo-oo-oos not quite under our breath. We made eye contact and grinned.