Present on stage for five of the twenty tracks, the Smashing Pumpkins’ frontman reinvents over two nights his flagship album, Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness, handing the reins to an orchestra and to lyrical voices.
Audacity was required. And perhaps only Billy Corgan could embark on such a project. Last year, to celebrate the thirtieth anniversary of the release of Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness, the mastermind of the Smashing Pumpkins partnered with the Lyric Opera of Chicago (his domain) to reinvent this cult album in an orchestral version, joined by four classical vocalists (Juliana Zara, Edward Parks, Zoie Reams and Dominick Valdés Chenes). This initial series of performances is now expanded into a European tour of about ten dates, two of which are in Paris. The Art Deco setting of Salle Pleyel fits perfectly with the visuals projected behind the stage, where airships cross the early skyscrapers of a burgeoning American city, between imagined steampunk and the glittering sequins of The Great Gatsby.
For the first of the two French performances, the stage buzzes with people—a hundred or so between the musicians, the four soloists, and the numerous choristers, conducted by maestro James Lowe. Yet one guest is missing, and not the least expected: Billy Corgan, a towering silhouette in a long black suit designed by his wife and father-in-law, who only comes to sing five of the twenty songs (Thirty-Three, Zero, 1979, To Forgive and Tonight, Tonight). The rest of the ensemble thus handles most of the show, split into two acts by an intermission, reinterpreting in a scattered order excerpts from the double album in question, a sprawling masterpiece brimming with discoveries and ingenuity (noting that it appeared in the midst of the grunge wave, entirely counter to the trend) and that managed to fuse the fiercest indie-rock against swirling string arrangements.
Excess
Eight tracks remain absent, including the ever-fascinating Fuck You (An Ode to No One), Love and We Only Come Out at Night. Some highlights occur without Billy Corgan, notably the sublime Thru the Eyes of Ruby, which closes the first set with an epic breath that eases into a lullaby on the final notes, or the sprawling piece Porcelina of the Vast Oceans, here carried by harp and violins. This complete rearrangement sometimes creates dialogues between two voices where the original version was a monologue – for instance, in Beautiful and Muzzle. One must get used to the lyrical and solemn delivery on tracks that were sometimes scratched out in venomous ink – particularly Bullet with Butterfly Wings, unrecognizable, just like an X.Y.U. deprived of all its threatening edge. Billy Corgan is not afraid to unsettle, but deserves credit for following his ideas through to their end.
The choice is often to soften and slow the pace, whereas such a large orchestra could have unleashed an incredible sonic puissance on Zero. Already performed instrumentally at the start of the concert, Tonight, Tonight is brought back at the end, in all its beauty, this time with Billy Corgan, who even allows himself a few smiles, delighted by the ovation awaiting him. The chief songwriter has managed to imagine a show of his grandiose scale.
In concert at Salle Pleyel, Paris, on September 9.
