Silverchair - Newport, 12-7

Silverchair comes from the land down under, and the band has pretty much stayed there the past 10 years. In 1995 its grunge debut, Frogstomp, was released when singer/guitarist Daniel Johns, bassist Chris Joannou and drummer Ben Gillies were only 15. Epic signed Silverchair after the band won some studio time from a radio station contest. Little did they know that studio time would spawn a multiplatinum album and a number-one single--“Tomorrow,” that flannel anthem about a fat boy who for some reason must wait till tomorrow.

“Pure Massacre,” the second single, did reasonably well, and singles from releases in ’97 and ’99 made small splashes here and there throughout the U.S. But for the most part, Silverchair fell off most people’s radars as grunge did the same. In Australia, it’s a different story. The band is the most successful rock band the country has ever seen, garnering five number-one albums. The boys continued making music and each album showed a new facet of Silverchair, improving on the previous release. This year’s Young Modern is getting rave reviews.

As it turns out, the radio contest wasn’t a fluke. The band really is talented. Who knew? (Well, I guess Australia did.)

It became apparent quickly on Friday night that Johns is used to being a rock sensation. He treated the Newport as if it were a giant arena that could only be filled by his rock-star posturing in a tuxedo vest (he shed his sport coat only three songs into the set). Luckily for him, he has an incredible voice and a fair amount of good songs to go with it. Gone is the Stone Temple Pilots, pickle-in-the-mouth grunge voice. Johns has a clean, powerful rock voice with quite an impressive range, as well as a pleasant if not overused falsetto. He puts Eddie Vedder and even Chris Cornell to shame. Johns is the pretty-boy theatrical type, which can get annoying, but he frequently put it aside to establish a good rapport with the crowd.

Lyrically, Silverchair has come a long way, but there’s still some tunes that are slightly cringe-worthy. “The Greatest View” stood out as an example of cheeseball lyrics, with the repeated line, “I’m watching you watch over me.” It didn’t help that the song itself is fairly weak, and would probably work well in a dentist office playlist. A couple of other songs conjured up corny arena rock--I’m not a fan of the new Journey-meets-Coldplay single, “Straight Lines,” but the crowd evidently was.

Just as many of the tunes were shout-along anthems with lofty melodies and nicely altered arrangements. “If You Keep Losing Sleep,” “Ana’s Song (Open Fire)” and “Tuna in the Brine” worked well, all swinging between arty and radio-ready. And, I admit, hearing older tunes from Frogstomp such as “Israel’s Son” brought back memories of trying to learn the songs on my first acoustic guitar in middle school. The Aussies didn’t play the old stuff grudgingly, either, looking as if they truly enjoyed getting all mid-’90s on us. Silverchair never did play “Pure Massacre” or “Tomorrow,” but I can’t really fault the band for it. I mean, the guys hit it big in their early teens, and number-one hit or not, no one should be forced to re-enact their teenage years on a nightly basis. Or ever, for that matter.

As Tall as Lions shares Silverchair’s penchant for anthemic choruses, playing pop rock suited for an opening act. It was pretty good for about 30 minutes, but any more than that would have been too long. The band has been lumped in with emo acts because of its label, Triple Crown, but vocalist Daniel Ligro isn’t a whiner, and he can pull off some tunes in a fairly high register. The minor harmonies were nice and atypical, although it felt like all these guys just discovered falsetto and don’t realize it can be overused. Also, the bass player’s awkwardly bombastic stage moves were way overdone, and I started to get embarrassed for him, like a guy at a party who thinks he can really dance and no one has the heart to tell him he sucks. One of his bandmates needs to have a heart-to-heart with him, look him in the eye, and say, “Dude, you’re a bassist.”