The Musical Box

frontman adam gontier of three days grace. photo by rich copley, herald-leader staff.

Woe be to the nu-metal, guitar-rock, post-grunge, what-have-you band that surrenders to that most familiar of riffs: the sharp, staccato guitar hook that provides the metal-esque backbone of what has come to define arena rock in the 21^st century. It’s an audience favorite, for sure - a kick that pumps up a crowd in an instant. But it’s also often a trap. Once a band gives in to the riffs and tastes the sort of machismo whirlwind they kick up onstage, a performance seldom seeks much else by way of stylistic variance.

In short, once that metal cocoon is sewn, breaking free is nigh-impossible.

Last night at Rupp Arena, three formidable, radio-friendly outfits - Three Days Grace, Breaking Benjamin and Flyleaf - went for the metal jugular almost from the instant their sets began. And, to no one’s surprise, the mostly 20-something crowd of 7,000 reacted obediently, swearing allegiance to the mighty power chord. But here’s the thing. At various points, all three bands refused to be painted into a stylistic corner by the chunky guitar rhythms. None of them exactly strayed from the thick and often purposely oppressive rock fabric, mind you. But neither did they sound like knock off Linkin Park clones, which seems to be the going guise of modern radio rockers.

Toronto’s Three Days Grace, which closed the show, summoned its metal crunch chords right off the bat in the show-opening Break before allowing them to bloom and corrode during the radio hit I Hate Everything About You. But what broke the cast for the band was guitarist Barry Stock, a bearded, bruiser of a player that resembled a punkish Abraham Lincoln.

Stock was hands down the evening’s most inventive instrumentalist, whether he was underscoring the audience friendly angst provided by singer Adam Gontier during the party tune The Good Life or playing off of Three Days Grace’s surprisingly vast library of pop references, from Phil Collins-like prog flourishes to the wild drones that echoed at the onset of Home.

benjamin burnley of breaking benjamin. photo by rich copley.

A preceding hour-long set by the Pennsylvania rockers of Breaking Benjamin kicked off with the anthemic grunge-pop of I Will Not Bow. That proved a set-up for the more angular metal guitar hooks of Until the End and the band’s other nu-metal weapon, singer Benjamin Burnley. As a vocalist, Burnley provided a generous pop accent to much of the band’s performance. But just as things got a tad orderly, his singing dissolved in to a coarse, metal-savvy wheeze.

The dirge like sing-a-long So Cold nicely sifted stylistic gears. But the set ultimately dragged. Between-tune breaks and Burnley’s often pandering audience banter robbed Breaking Benjamin of some much needed drive.

By way of proof, the show-opening Texas quintet Flyleaf plowed through the same number of songs as Breaking Benjamin (an even dozen) in roughly half the stage time. And, yes, the band also came onstage full of metal-esque majesty with the ultra crunchy Fully Alive, sounding like’80s-era Motorhead - well, Motorhead had they been fronted by a woman.

Singer Lacey Mosley (La belle femme Lemmy?) provided a sense of engrossing immediacy to Flyleaf’s set, whether the band was tearing through the hallelujah crunch of Beautiful Bride, embracing the affirmations that bookended Arise or opening the door to a blast of postpunk pop lyricism during Missing that sounded less like metal-esque fury and more like A Flock of Seagulls on holiday.