If confidence and being true to one's self is vital for success, then there's little mystery as to how British rock trio Muse has become a global arena conqueror. In front of a not-quite-full American Airlines Center on Sunday night, the Matt Bellamy-led crew valiantly blazed through two hours of its unapologetically dramatic, two decade-spanning catalog, giving loyalists a more nuanced show than what casual followers might've suspected.
Grandiose, majestic, swelling and sweeping, Muse's radio-ready art-rock is nothing if not ambitious in both its thematic and sonic scope. Seeing the songs offered in a live setting, however, it was easier to drill down through much of the strobe-lit bombast to view a more rustic core. In its review of Muse's latest record, Simulation Theory, Pitchfork deduced that "despite Muse's operatic ambitions, they have always been a pop band."
Such simplicity was impossible to note in the beginning as Bellamy emerged from beneath the satellite stage near the middle of the arena floor, flanked by neon-lit robot and/or alien trumpeters, which, of course, gyrated in unison. Sporting his own neon-lit glasses and jacket, Bellamy's otherworldly falsetto cut through the wild setting during a shortened "Algorithm" followed by "Pressure," both from the aforementioned latest album.
It was in "Pressure" and the next number, "Psycho," that the notion Pitchfork introduced began to show itself, but not in as pop-pop-tastic of a manner as that article suggests. A dangerous shredder, Bellamy is an under-discussed guitar god who clearly carries great appreciation for the blues and garage rock licks that laid a foundation for modern bands like his. As the night rolled on, Bellamy continued to seize moments for some rather greasy, muscular riffing.
The pop textures flourished with two of the group's biggest hits. The electro-anthem "Madness" and arguably the band's most imminently danceable song, "Starlight," made the confetti cannons and streamer shooters filling the arena's air and floor feel perfectly in place. There were choreographed production numbers complete with a dance crew, after all. This was a sensory-attacking prog-rock extravaganza.
There was hardly any chatter from the leader in between songs, save for a couple of shout-outs to the state of Texas. And given how much of Muse's material deals with foreboding ideas of war, government oppression and rather bleak views of the future, it was refreshing to go a couple of hours without any forced topical discussion around Brexit in the U.K. or the current White House resident in the U.S.
For the uninitiated, the newer songs could be detected when Bellamy sported his kitschy, '80s-loving neon shutter shades. "Break It to Me," "Propaganda" and "The Dark Side" were proffered faithfully, with all the color and majesty the recorded versions offer - not to mention those militaristic robot dancers. But older songs, including the rock radio hits "Time is Running Out" from 2003 and "Supermassive Black Hole" from 2006, once again allowed Bellamy to combine his groove-intensive guitar chops with his ethereal falsetto for a combo punch no other modern rock act carries in its arsenal at the moment.
If things hadn't been wild and dramatic enough, Muse ended the show with a medley of some of its more hard-charging songs, as a gigantic, stage-sized robot skeleton hovered menacingly above the band, bobbing from one end to the other. It was all a glorious meshing of so many worlds. The sights, sounds, fears and hopes that rock music in all of its forms can offer was brought vividly to the forefront in an unavoidably bright and mesmerizing presentation.
There aren't many bands bold enough to attempt such a show with a straight face in complete seriousness, but Muse is the band to do just that, with no apologies.
