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18 July 2005 >>
Chart
Attack |
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Avril Lavigne's No American
Idiot >> |
With all that talk of her
L.A. partying ways and
hanging out with Paris
Hilton, Avril Lavigne still
comes across as a
level-headed pop-rocker with
more talent than her
contemporaries.
Sure, she's been on the same
tour for months — the
silly-named Bonez Tour
that's been packing houses
since last fall — and even
though she's rolling off all
the hits from her two
multi-million-selling discs
as by-the-book as possible,
Lavigne's poker face shows
little signs of weariness.
During her second Air Canada
Centre stop in less than a
year, the Napanee princess
pretty much did what she did
last November. Her tresses
are longer, blonder and
curlier and now she's an
engaged woman (to Sum 41's
bratty frontman Deryck
Whibley), but she's still
pulling out her strong, wail
of a voice for infectious
teenage anthems like "My
Happy Ending" and
"Complicated."
There's little room for
spontaneity for this
tightly-rehearsed show — she
bounces out in a tank-top,
black skirt and Converses,
belts out angst-fuelled
rockers like "Losing Grip"
and "Unwanted," stalks the
stage and twirls around,
throws in more hits like the
power ballad "I'm With You,"
sits down at the ivories for
her Chantal Kreviazuk-assisted
tunes "Together" and
"Forgotten," tells us how
great it is to be back in
Canada, goes on a solo
acoustic detour for
"Nobody's Home" and then
takes on the skins for her
band's cover of Blur's "Song
2." Concurrently, Girls
shriek, wave glow sticks,
clap and stand up at
Lavigne's bidding and then
it's all over. There's
almost nothing new, save for
a by-the-numbers run through
Green Day's "American
Idiot."
Yet even those three minutes
of song written by Billie
Joe Armstrong and company
gives us hope that Lavigne
is ready to move on to more
interesting subjects. Her
girl power anthem "Don't
Tell Me" is still one of her
best songs, putting her near
the top of the pop-rock heap
as far as her audience is
concerned, but you get the
sense that Lavigne and her
army of yelping fans are
ready for something more
complex — especially when
ten-year-olds scream to
their tiny hero singing
about "subliminal mindfuck
America."
Although she still obliges
and plays her less-mature
mall-punk songs like "Sk8er
Boi" and "He Wasn't," any
pouting you see on Lavigne's
face doesn't come across
like the dissatisfied teen
brat she once appeared to
be. Instead the frowns
become just-for-show
expressiveness — a bit of
theatre from a performer who
is outgrowing her earlier
material and trying to coax
enthusiastic punk-rock
fist-pumping from her still
grade-school fanbase.
Lavigne is ready to mature —
almost. She still isn't
ready to give up that
skull-and-crossbones guitar
strap of hers.
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Copyright 2004. All rights reserved. |
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