Placebo

Life is tough for a rockstar in the new millennium. Records don't sell anymore, and even if you've got some great songs up your sleeve, it's hard to actually make a living from your art. And if you manage to score a few own goals along the way, you risk sinking before your time. Placebo have certainly scored a few own goals of their own - otherwise, despite some recent records that lean a bit too commercial, they wouldn't still be caught between a mainstream that's never fully embraced them and a niche audience that keeps accusing them of having sold out one too many times.

But judging from the fine concert we caught in Rome, the only faults that can really be pinned on Brian Molko have nothing to do with artistry: the band sounds great, he commands the stage with his usual charisma, and the songs (even the frankly skippable ones) work. The problem is that the whole situation becomes questionable when a band with twenty years of career behind them and seven albums (nearly all of them good) under their belt plays a tidy little hour-and-a-half set and calls it a day. Made worse by the fact that they trot out the exact same menu every night, with no surprises to really hit the audience. In the age of YouTube and setlists posted online, does that still make sense, dear Mr. Molko?

Of course the crowd, made up mostly of die-hard fans, responds positively regardless. And Brian gives back by striking increasingly feminine poses and movements, spraying a jolt of pure electric adrenaline over the Postepay Rock In Roma crowd. The setlist leans heavily on the band's most recent (but least interesting) chapter. Besides the seven tracks pulled from last year's "Loud Like Love", released barely a year ago, the most plundered album turns out to be "Meds" (six songs), while the penultimate "Battle For The Sun" is clearly disowned, with just a single track played. Surprisingly, the self-titled debut, a cult work of the mid-90s alternative rock scene, is ignored entirely, while only four songs total are drawn from the three hugely beloved albums that followed. Two of those, the ever-famous "Special K" and "The Bitter End", provide the only genuine moments of collective ecstasy of the night, placed at the close of the first part of the show, capping off what was nonetheless an enjoyable ride.

The encores were dealt with quickly, opening with their version of “Running Up That Hill” by Kate Bush, which had originally opened the bonus disc of covers conceived to accompany “Sleeping With Ghosts”, and closing with two tracks from “Meds” (a record Placebo evidently still believe in): “Post Blue” and “Infra-Red”.

Great lights, great music, a great show, a tight band, but the feeling is that the androgynous Brian Molko has remained just a little trapped in his own persona. An unmistakable voice, which is really the band's true trademark, guitar work that still evokes the alt-rock imagery of two decades ago, but their recent melodic, feel-good drift leaves little doubt about just how shrewd and opportunistic the band has become. And so we head home without “I Know”, without “Taste In Men”, without “Slave To The Wage”, but with the crowd's unison shout-along to the choruses of “Loud Like Love” and “Too Many Friends” still ringing in our ears. It may well be a fine thing to hear, sure, but the Placebo of the second half of the Nineties were a different beast altogether.

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