Throughout Courtney Love’s two-hour concert at The House of Blues Friday night, I kept searching my imagination for the perfect metaphor to help define her performance.
Dressed entirely in black and white, she took the stage to the blaring notes of Ravel’s Bolero. With her trademark blond hair a halo illuminated by the pure white spotlight that tracked her, she seemed like some kind of demented rock angel descending from the '90s to save us all.
There are so many Courtneys out there who have been living in the public consciousness for two decades, Courtney Love the skilled songwriter and musician can easily be overwhelmed. . .but not when she takes the stage.
A few songs later as she took off her black vest and her white blouse billowed over her black leather pants, Love seemed more like a pirate, tempting us on a dark journey. Much later, after she stripped off the white shirt to reveal a short black dress she had been wearing all along, she paused to take a shot of tequila on stage. Refreshed and ready, she flung rose petals at the audience becoming a black-hearted fairy godmother showering us with “fuck you” blessings.
Perhaps I felt this need to pin Courtney Love down to one single metaphor because she has spent her life refusing to be defined as any one woman.
Just who Is Courtney (Michelle Harrison) Love Cobain?
Is she the celebrity widow and mother who we not-so-secretly judged from the comfort of the grocery checkout line as we gazed upon her likeness on tabloid covers? Is she the surprisingly good actress whose best known roles are always the girlfriend in the shadow of her controversial man? Is she the hot mess whose drug addiction and breakdowns make the current crop of Hollywood disaster girls look like amateurs? Or is she the rock goddess who somehow has never had a No. 1 hit?
There are so many Courtneys out there who have been living in the public consciousness for two decades, Courtney Love the skilled songwriter and musician can easily be overwhelmed. . .but not when she takes the stage.
Masterful performance
From the beginning of her first set, she blazed through her Hole catalog with “Plump,” “Miss World,” and the Fleetwood Mac cover “Gold Dust Woman.”
Though a new solo album and a memoir titled Died Blond are both due out this winter, this tour appears to be a look back at the past as she prepares for the future. Alternating between some of her more well-known songs and some she hasn’t played for a decade, Love was as masterful with a cigarette in her hand, playing it like some kind of smoke instrument, as she was with a guitar.
Though a new solo album and a memoir titled Died Blond are both due out this winter, this tour appears to be a look back at the past as she prepares for the future.
I’ve seen a few larger crowds at The House of Blues, but this one certainly made up for a slightly smaller quantity by the quality of their Love devotion. Though many in the audience at her feet were her contemporaries, some were likely only slightly older than the song “Violet” that they helpfully screamed along.
After their faithful rendition, they were rewarded with “What a good little fucking audience you are,” from their rock goddess.
The same type of frantic connection between artist, audience, and lyrics came during the song “Asking for It” as the whole House chanted “If you live through this with me/I swear I will die for you.” Who was the “you” and who the “I” in this Courtney Love/fans relationship, I was never sure.
One more point of connection came during the encore as Love, now wearing a negligee, felt her way through the opening lines of “Softer, Softest,” a song she said she hasn’t sang in concert for a decade. When she became a little lost amongst the forgotten lyrics, someone in the crowd would call out a word or half line, leading her back to the song’s path. It was such a raw, honest moment, I thought this must be her, the true Courtney.
Closing the concert with “Doll Parts,” probably her most known song and one that she’s said doesn't like playing on this tour, she screamed, “I want to be the girl with the most cake. . .someday you will ache the way I ache” as if it were her personal life anthem.
How many Courtney Loves reside in the world, no matter high they ascend or low they fall, I somehow think she might outlast us all.
With her trademark blond hair a halo illuminated by the pure white spotlight that tracked her, Love seemed like some kind of demented rock angel descending from the '90s to save us all.
