Creed concert review

Creed serve up millennial nostalgia at pyro-packed RodeoHouston concert

Hello, my friend, we meet again.

I’ve had a torrid relationship with Creed. As a circa-2000s punk rocker, it was implied that I was supposed to hate them. Nevertheless, I enjoyed those hook-laden Mark Tremonti riffs and Scott Stapp’s burly, Bono-grasping vocals, with just a hint of irony deep in the mix. I had “One Last Breath” on a burned mix CD, bunched in with Fugazi, Rancid, and Sham 69. I would skip it as quickly as I could, depending on who was in the car. Driving home from a long day slinging milk in the Kroger dairy cooler? Windows down, Stapp up.

When I began my music journalism career 20 years ago (!!!), I began sticking up for them, much to the consternation of a lot of my fellow writers who were hung up on stuff that was supposed to be cooler and hipper. Creed’s pop-culture zenith came right as The Strokes and The White Stripes were thrust on us by the music press as a counter to post-grunge, which other music writers were categorically allergic to. Remember when our biggest problems in America were bands that were overtly influenced by Pearl Jam and Alice In Chains?

In 2012, I interviewed lead singer Scott Stapp along the way for the Houston Press, and I distinctly recall Stapp being confused on our call that a guy from a smug alt-weekly wasn’t asking him stupid questions or making fun of his leather pants. The band was heading to Houston for a two-night stand at the Bayou Music Center in 2012 when they played 1997’s “My Own Prison” and 1999’s “Human Clay” in their entirety.

Fun fact: “Human Clay” has sold over 20 million albums alone, besting Nirvana’s “Nevermind” and Pearl Jam’s “Ten” by only a relatively small margin. Creed moved more physical CDs when people actually bought music.

Somehow, along the way, people stopped hating Creed and Nickelback, and the hate gave way to pre-social media, millennial high school, and pre-9/11 nostalgia. The similarly maligned Nickelback sold out the rodeo in 2024.

On Wednesday, March 11, I saw junior high school kids wearing crispy new Creed shirts with their parents. Gen Alpha is beginning to get curious about what mom and dad were up to during spring break 2001, and Zoomers are rediscovering Y2K fashions. Haven’t you seen those “Mom, What Were You Like In The ‘90s?” memes?

Creed has been sold out for weeks, drawing 70,007 attendees. If you had told someone 10 years ago that Creed would sell out RodeoHouston, they would have been skeptical. And yet here we are, staring down at a sold-out Creed show. These things run in cycles. Emotions fade. Annoyance turns into wistfulness for the days of Nokia brick phones and 99-cent gas. You can even go on a Creed Cruise now.

Creed hit the stage just before 9:30 pm, an enviable bedtime for most elderly millennials, kicking off with the TOOL-chugalug of “Bullets,” with Stapp and Tremonti making the best use of their stage platforms, crucial devices for any major rock band in the 2000s. Unrelenting pyro shot from the dirt surrounding the stage every time Stapp lifted or flailed his arms like Elvis if he discovered cardio.

The dirge of “Torn” — the second single from My Own Prison — was pyro-less, likely giving the cannons a few minutes to cool off. The sweaty Stapp, at just 52, looks to be in better shape than he did 20 years ago, now sporting a conservative haircut like he stepped out of his company’s stadium suite or finished a twilight run at Memorial Park.

Stapp introduced “My Own Prison” with a preachery pep talk that wouldn’t sound out of place at an altar call at Sturgis. The crowd hung on every emphatic word. Maybe seeing two middle-aged dudes wearing Stryper shirts down on the concourse made more sense than I realized. Is Creed actually just TOOL that accepted Christ? The graphics behind the band could’ve fooled me.

Stapp introduced “One” with a speech on commonalities and love. Looking back, Creed’s lyrics were much too earnest, hitting at a time when critics were still hungover from grunge.

During “With Arms Wide Open,” the rodeo cameras would routinely cut to tattooed dads and rocker chicks in the crowd playing air guitar along with Tremonti and singing their guts out like they did the first time they heard it on 94.5 The Buzz. For a large segment of the crowd, they might have had a Gen-X parent jamming this stuff on the way to school in the morning.

“Are you ready to get higher in here, Houston?” Stapp yells. The place erupts as “Higher” starts. Stapp was in his element, pyro shooting off, his silver jewelry dangling, taking in the crowd, like he didn’t expect such a response.

Possibly the last true rock power ballad ever recorded, “One Last Breath,” got the biggest screams of the night; it might also be the Gen-Z “Don’t Stop Believing” as long as we’re making wildly controversial statements. [Editor’s note: Isn’t that Mr. Brightside? -ES]

Welcome back, Creed, from pop-culture purgatory, and props for what might have been the loudest RodeoHouston show in years.

SETLIST

Bullets
Torn
Are You Ready?
My Own Prison
What If
One
With Arms Wide Open
Higher
One Last Breath
My Sacrifice

Courtesy of Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo

Singer Scott Stapp serenades the RodeoHouston crowd.

rodeohouston houston livestock show and rodeo concert review

Movie Review

Sheriff Bob Odenkirk is back in over-the-top new action movie 'Normal'

Photo courtesy of Magnolia Pictures

Bob Odenkirk in Normal.

Screenwriter Derek Kolstad, who wrote the first three John Wick movies, has essentially had a blank check to do what he wants in the movie landscape since 2014. In recent years that has meant writing the action series Nobody for Bob Odenkirk, who has turned from a comedian into an unlikely action star in his sixties. Kolstad and Odenkirk are teaming up again in Normal.

A film that tries to evoke Fargo in multiple ways, Normal finds Ulysses Richardson (Odenkirk) serving as a temporary sheriff for the small town of Normal, Minnesota after the previous sheriff died. Knowing he’s just a steward until a new sheriff is elected, Ulysses takes a live-and-let-live approach to the job, letting the deputies (Ryan Allen and Billy MacLellan) do the grunt work and trying to stay out of everyone’s way, including Mayor Kibner (Henry Winkler).

A bank robbery attempt by two non-citizens upsets his best-laid plans in more ways than he can imagine. Not only is he forced to confront a crime not often seen in a town like Normal, but the robbery uncovers secrets that turn the film into an all-out bloodbath. Soon, almost everyone in town becomes involved in what comes to resemble a war, along with — you guessed it — Yakuza henchmen from Japan.

Directed by Ben Wheatley and written by Kolstad, the film is a slight twist on the everyman-turned-hero character Odenkirk played in the two Nobody films. While Ulysses is in law enforcement, he prefers to use words instead of weapons, and it’s only when he’s pushed to the brink that he crosses that line. Naturally, his skills are beyond what anyone would expect of him, allowing him to match up well with people half his age.

The film is not a comedy in the traditional sense, but instead aims for laughs by catching the audience off-guard with its ultraviolence. Some characters are dispatched in shockingly unexpected ways, with one of the only natural reactions to the jarring nature of their deaths being laughter. That’s not necessarily the case for other killings, which range from blasé to sadistic, and the only reason they count as entertainment is because the filmmakers have primed the audience to accept them as such.

After a relatively solid setup, where Wheatley and Kolstad seem to take their time getting to know the main characters, the second half of the film is pure action that dispenses with good storytelling. Like many action movies, there are double crosses, surprise revelations, and more, but the filmmakers don’t seem to care about making sense of any character arcs. All they care about is delivering mayhem, and they succeed on that front.

Odenkirk has perfected the mild-yet-intimidating nature of his action characters, and it is satisfying to see him get the better of those who have done him wrong. He doesn’t run or jump like fellow 63-year-old Tom Cruise, but — with the help of fast-paced editing — he still makes for a credible action hero. The only other actors of any note in the film are Winkler, who’s a nice presence with his sardonic personality, and Lena Headey, whose small role doesn't match up with her experience.

You have to have a certain mindset to enjoy a film like Normal, but if you can abide its over-the-top bloodiness, it’s a serviceable action film. Few would have expected Odenkirk to take on these kinds of roles at this late stage of his career, but he’s making the most of his opportunities.

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Normal opens in theaters on April 17.

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