Riot Acts: Rage, Wu-Tang, and ATR

"Start the riot!" screamed Atari Teenage Riot's Alec Empire around 7 p.m. at Great Woods last Thursday, kicking off a marathon night of so-called rock-and-roll revolution. If putting ATR on a bill with the Wu-Tang Clan and Rage Against the Machine makes sense in theory, the connection grew more elusive throughout the night as, at various times, an audience member lighting off a bottle rocket elicited more of a response than ATR's big audio dynamite; Wu-Tang segued from a "show-us-your-tits" ploy into a proclamation on revolutionary change; and man-of-the-people Zack de la Rocha pulled up several hours late in a stretch limousine. Certainly it was weird to have the Marxist-signifying Rage guys claiming shared turf with the capitalist-merchandising Wu-Tang collective. But all three groups had T-shirts on sale for dirt cheap ($10, instead of the usual $25 or more), so maybe the Wu-Wear empire was willing to be nationalized for a couple of weeks.

ATR's riot sounds, as expected, failed to produce actual riots. Empire, clad in black leather pants and a "Black Ice" T-shirt (was that a beer shirt?), led the charge with an inspired routine that was part Iggy Stooge corkscrew hop, part LA-punk stumble-and-writhe, with some righteous grandstanding somewhere between Minor Threat and Public Enemy. Alongside him was Hanin Elias, shaking her black bob and spazzing out blissfully, while Carl Crack struck rock poses with his mike stand and even played a little air guitar. Behind them, an unidentified woman stood fiddling with some electronic gear that didn't seem to do much. Didn't matter -- wherever the sound was coming from, it packed the same sonic punch as their singles compilation, Burn, Berlin, Burn! (Grand Royal): a guttural roar of damaged hyperspeed breakbeats and lo-fi anti-techno screed ignited by thrash and punk samples.

It would be another two hours before the Wu took the stage -- in fact, they weren't even in the commonwealth, having headed back home after being told the show would be canceled on account of De la Rocha's on-stage ankle injury the previous night in New York. Finally appearing sans Ol' Dirty Bastard around 9:30, they nonetheless kindled ODB's spirit by performing his raunch-strewn "Dog Shit" rap from the new Wu-Tang Forever (Loud/RCA). If the subtleties of the RZA's production didn't translate beyond beats and bass, the collective energy that binds the eight-member clan made up the difference in a relentless 90-minute set spanning both Wu-Tang albums, a smattering of highlights from the members' solo projects, freestyle jams, and a couple of straight-up karaoke-style family sing-alongs. Method Man, with his sandblasted slang rock, emerged as the natural star, with the RZA playing air-traffic controller as they urged the crowd to raise their Wu-wings and take flight.

Together the Wu-Tang Clan exhibited more genuine charisma than Rage's dialectical morality plays could muster. Having long since mastered the iconography and the theater of resistance, Rage have of late taken to falling back on empty signifying -- despite a backdrop with slogan questions like "Who Is Bought and Sold?", "Who Follows Orders?", and "Who Is Free To Choose?," the dynamics were too familiar (to Rage and to their audience) to engender any kind of constructive discussion. More than anything, with the mosh pit jumping how-high, a Sabbath-ized cover of Springsteen's "The Ghost of Tom Joad" on offer, and De la Rocha hopping around on his one good foot, Rage Against the Machine came off as reassuringly American as apple pie.

-- Carly Carioli