Thanks Gloriane! Taken from: OC Weekly
(TRAGIC) KINGDOM COME AGAIN, LEAVING NO DOUBT WHO RULES OC
BY ALBERT CHING
Published on August 12, 2009 at 10:18am
Kingdom Come Again
. . . And again and again and again, leaving No Doubt who rules Orange County“WELCOME TO NO DOUBT’S ORANGE COUNTY”
Those words, on a sign just inside the Verizon Wireless Amphitheater grounds, greeted eager attendees to each of No Doubt’s four Irvine shows on July 31, Aug. 1, 2 and 4, essentially the band’s victory lap for a successful return tour that started in May. Other than a brief re-formation during the encores of a couple of Gwen Stefani solo gigs at the same venue in June 2007, it’s the first time No Doubt—frequently referred to by some variation of “the biggest Orange County band of all time”—have played here since 2004.So, yeah. It was a Big Deal, the kind that merits that many shows (each one sold out the 16,085-capacity venue) and plenty of “I remember them way back when!” reflection. It seems that everyone here has a story about how they saw No Doubt play some tiny, obscure venue in the early 1990s, or has a far-flung familial tie to one of the members. Andrew Youssef, one of our freelance photographers, relayed a story about how he saw them play a warehouse in Orange in 1994, and after the Aug. 4 show, he introduced me to a co-worker at his day job—who happened to be No Doubt bassist Tony Kanal’s cousin. The next day, I stopped in at Denim Blue Vintage Victim in Huntington Beach and was told that one of the employees there is guitarist Tom Dumont’s goddaughter. For all I know, the dude in front of me in line at Chipotle later that day probably took a judo class with drummer Adrian Young when they were in middle school.
That sign was just a bit of hyperbole placed there by promoters, but it’s actually kinda true. Even if they hadn’t been around in a while, even if they’re internationally famous superstars, even if some of them don’t live in the area anymore, No Doubt are permanently woven into the fabric of our culture—and unlike consumerism, conservatism or reality shows, they are something to be proud of.
“WE FUCKING LOVE YOU, GWEN!”
From the moment supporting act Katy Perry wrapped up set-closer “I Kissed a Girl” on the Aug. 4 date, fans occupied the next 30 minutes of their lives by screaming out such impassioned declarations. I was lucky enough to land in the pit, packed in with the rest of the band’s most hardcore devotees. One guy had a sign proclaiming he was attending his 16th concert on the tour. Another had come from Canada. Some chattered about how many of the previous Irvine shows they had attended in the past few days.This was my first time seeing No Doubt in Orange County; I saw them in Phoenix, Arizona, in 2002 and 2004. As much as I’d like to say the Irvine crowd was special, that there was a noticeable difference in energy between the hometown crowd (about 90 percent female, Youssef estimated) and the ones I previously witnessed, I really can’t. Clearly, folks love No Doubt here—but they loved them in Phoenix, too. And I’m sure they loved them in Albuquerque, Cleveland, Kansas City and every other stop on their “Summer Tour 2009.” (Not a “reunion” tour, mind you. They never broke up, just took time off.) Even Perry (from Santa Barbara) seemed starstruck. “I met Gwen Stefani backstage,” she said during her set. “I can safely say that I want to be like her when I grow up.”
No Doubt are a lovable band, bursting with fun, upbeat songs. Get a band that big to play in front of that many people, playing that many huge hits, and you’re going to generate excitement.
And man, people were excited. One of the loudest crowds I’ve been around in a while. And knowing they were playing their hometown—in front of people who probably all had some Byzantine connection to them—did make it seem like an even Bigger Deal.
Stefani worked “Orange County” into lyrics (“Orange County is so rock steady”), called us “Orange County girls” and “Orange County boys,” and generally yelled “Orange County!” a lot, so there was no mistaking where the band were from or where this concert was happening. While introducing her associates during an extended “Different People” instrumental break, Stefani delineated the local ties of each member—she and Kanal from Anaheim, Dumont from Irvine, and Young from Cypress. She pointed out Kanal’s time at Anaheim High School and Dumont’s stint “flipping burgers” at Verizon Wireless Amphitheater (then known as the less blatantly corporate Irvine Meadows). They’re not hiding from their pasts—not that they could if they wanted to.
“THIS IS A WHOLE ’NOTHER LEVEL OF WEIRDNESS AND TRIPPINESS!”
Making that statement after “Underneath It All” on Aug. 4, in reference to selling out four Irvine shows, Stefani seemed totally sincere, even if it might be difficult to accept an “aww, shucks” moment from her, more so than from anyone else in the band. Sure, her already high profile has been raised to absurd levels in the past five years, after the massive pop success of her two solo records, Love. Angel. Music. Baby. and The Sweet Escape. She has sold millions of records, is on the cover of approximately a billion magazines each month, popped up in a Scorsese movie, married a super-handsome British dude, and spends her time between London and LA, but there still has to be something cool about being able to come back to your hometown (ish) and pack four consecutive shows, playing the role of “quintessential local boy(s and girl) done good.”Critics have called her solo work shallow and insincere, essentially an aural infomercial for her LAMB clothing line. (It’s a good bet that these critics are far outside her target demographic.) One song on 2006’s The Sweet Escape was particularly frustrating to detractors: “Orange County Girl.” On that chorus, Stefani repeats, “I’m just an Orange County girl, living in an extraordinary world.” A review in NME declared it “horribly similar to J-Lo’s putrid ‘Jenny From the Block.’”
The origins of No Doubt go back to Anaheim in 1986, with Stefani starting a band called Apple Core with her brother Eric. Fellow founding member John Spence committed suicide the following year. Much has been made of 1995’s Tragic Kingdom and “Just a Girl” (and “Don’t Speak” and “Spiderwebs” and “Sunday Morning” and “Excuse Me Mr.,” etc.) being the band’s breakthrough, and it was, capitalizing on MTV and modern-rock radio’s brief fascination with ska. But in 1992, No Doubt were already on Interscope Records, who’ve released all of their albums other than 1995’s The Beacon Street Collection.
In their 1992 self-titled debut, they were struggling with staying true to their ska origins vs. their new-wave tendencies—much as they received flak for the more somber moments of 2000’s Return of Saturn (“Simple Kind of Life” and “Six Feet Under,” both legitimate downers) and their liaisons with dancehall on Rock Steady (from which a straight line can be drawn to Stefani’s solo stuff). Sure, No Doubt have changed—but that’s nothing new for them.
Which makes their appearance at the Irvine shows all the more uncanny—eerie, even. Both musically and physically, it was very much the same band I saw at those 2002 and 2004 shows. No Doubt’s ability to hold up is either somehow supernatural or a testament to living right. Stefani’s meticulously maintained midsection has garnered much attention over the years, and her abs absolutely retain washboard status, despite mothering two children with husband Gavin Rossdale. The rest of the band look no worse for wear, from touring horn section/multi-instrumentalists Stephen Bradley and Gabrial McNair to Young, still making the wacky-skimpy-outfits thing work for him.
Much like that 2002 tour with openers Garbage and the Distillers, No Doubt were paired with two fellow female-fronted acts: The Sounds on all four dates, Paramore on the first three, Perry on the last. And just as in that 2002 tour, No Doubt brought out their supporting acts during the encore for an ’80s cover; then, it was Blondie’s “Call Me,” and now, it’s “Stand and Deliver” by Adam and the Ants.
Without a new album to tour behind (that’s tentatively scheduled for 2010), the set lists—which only varied slightly between the four nights—were a lot like the ones on their 2004 tour supporting greatest-hits album The Singles 1992–2003: Other than a couple of more obscure Tragic Kingdom tracks, it was hit after hit after hit. The parting shot was “Sunday Morning,” another Tragic Kingdom song. That could be viewed by skeptics as a tacit admission that the band peaked creatively more than a decade ago. But it’s also proof that out of all of No Doubt’s talents, their best might be knowing what their fans want.
“YOU GUYS ARE FUCKING AMAZING FOR SHOWING UP TONIGHT!”
Four shows in or not, there was little, uh, doubt, that fans (including, according to the buzz in the crowd, pro surfer Rob Machado and actress Kirsten Dunst) would turn up at the amphitheater that Tuesday night. It was still nice of Stefani to say. No matter how big she or the band may be, they still engaged in the type of fan-friendly behavior that made them so endearing in the first place, something they no longer need to do. Stefani left the stage twice to reach out to the front row, and she brought fans up twice to take pictures with them. At the end of the set, she left the stage again to take a shot with her own camera of the numerous rows of fans behind her. Moments like that hint that maybe the band really haven’t let international fame and unfathomable success change them all that much. Or they’re at least self-aware enough to want people to think that, which is effectively just as good.Because, really, as much as we’d like to daydream that No Doubt haven’t changed and are still just regular Orange Countians like the rest of us, how could they not have? Music superstardom or not, who among us hasn’t changed over the past two decades? What’s truly assuring is that, as much can be evidenced from these four Irvine shows—which re-defined the term “crowd-pleaser”—it’s change for the better. No matter where they go or where they’ve been, Orange County is still as much a part of them as they’re a part of us.
