Alkaline Trio played a sunset set at Denver's Riot Fest Saturday (photos by Tim Campbell)
Why so serious, modern rockers?
A day spent at last weekend's Riot Fest in Denver, seeing the last of three reunion shows by the Twin Cities' beloved, benighted Replacements, pointed to a sort of "fun deficit" between many of the veteran acts who molded modern rock, and the music's current vanguard as personified by AFI, the angsty California band who preceded the 'Mats on stage Saturday night.
The belching of smoke machines heralded the arrival of the black-clad group, but given the Dust Bowl-like conditions at the festival site, AFI might just as well have set up a couple big fans to move the grit already wafting through the air. Riot Fest organizers had set up shop for the first time in the Denver area after shows in Toronto Aug. 24-25 and Chicago Sept. 13-15. Minnesota visitors might have anticipated a dramatic mountain backdrop. Instead, they got a Great Plains farm about an hour east of the city, with gentle swells of sun-baked dirt undulating westward toward the rogue wave that is the Rockies.
AFI rocked fiercely, but in this flat-affect environment its dramatics often came off as overwrought. "You made me suffer!" screamed AFI singer Davey Havok in one of the band's new songs. "No, you first," I wanted to scream back. At the other extreme, the punk journeymen of the Alkaline Trio came off as almost too self-effacing in an early-evening set. "We're going to play a few more songs and then we'll get out of your way," said frontman Matt Skiba.
Ultimately, they all were playing straight man to wiley and uproarious vets like Guided by Voices, Rocket From the Crypt and Iggy Pop and the Stooges, whose funhouse antics ignited young and old fans alike into a moshing frenzy.
But the last laugh -- and a true sense of occasion -- belonged to Paul Westerberg, Tommy Stinson and their two new Replacements, drummer Josh Freese and guitarist David Minehan. As the world-weary lounge anthem "That's Life" played over the speakers, they took the stage in blaze-orange cowboy hats, plaid western shirts and pink cowgirl skirts, purchased at a Western-wear store in Denver. Somewhere Bob Stinson, their late tutu-wearing guitarist, was smiling.
Then they ripped into "Taking a Ride," the first song from their very first album, and the same opener they'd used in Toronto and Chicago.