The unremarkable Matchbox Twenty arrived just as grunge was saying its last goodbye and the boy groups were still a glimmer in some Svengali’s eye. Matchbox Twenty’s disposable music seemed destined for the dustbin, and even after the band’s debut “Yourself or Someone Like You” exceeded all expectations–selling 10 million records–it appeared unlikely that Matchbox Twenty could weather the changing cultural climate.
Now popular music is primarily divided into two distinct camps: edgy post-grunge neo-rap metal and utterly innocuous teen sensations. Those lucrative extremes don’t leave a lot of room for the middle ground, and Matchbox Twenty is about as middle of the road as it gets. But thanks to “Smooth,” the smash Santana song sung and co-written by Matchbox Twenty frontman Rob Thomas, all bets are off. Matchbox Twenty may have a chance after all at circumventing the sophomore slump with its new disc, “Mad Season.”
Album No. 2 is only slightly less plain than its predecessor, buoyed not one bit by a of rock star portentousness. Playing a sold-out gig at the small Vic on Tuesday night, Matchbox Twenty did its best to justify its head-scratching popularity, which had dozens of young girls lining up around the block hours before the show, doodling the names of the band members on the sidewalk with colored chalk.
Knowing the names takes some work, as aside from Thomas, Matchbox Twenty is sorely lacking in the charisma category. The five-piece Florida band’s relative anonymity has been viewed by some as a detriment, and is it any wonder? Beginning with “Bent,” the first single from the new album, Matchbox Twenty glided through a rote hour-and-a-half-long set whose sole moments of spontaneity and liveliness were relegated to bits and pieces of the Bee Gees’ “Stayin’ Alive” and Survivor’s “Eye of the Tiger.”
As for the band’s own music, there’s not much that can be said for new songs such as “Angry,” “Last Beautiful Girl,” “Crutch,” and a bevy of ballads and banalities bereft of distinction. Even a five-piece horn section on “”Black & White People” seemed frivolous, while the crowd-pleasing hits from the first album came across as perfunctorily as they did three years ago.
Ultimately the worst thing you can accuse Matchbox Twenty of being is boring. But is boring bad when there are so many bands out there making terrible music that’s far less benign? Well, yes. There’s something that’s just so ad-jingle generic about Matchbox Twenty. Not everyone craves challenging music, but why bother with songs so steeped in empty bombast and slick indifference? This is a band that doesn’t know soul from its “diamond” sales certificate, and couldn’t shoot sparks if someone set it on fire. The audition’s over, guys. You’re rich. You’re famous. Now loosen up.
