Roseland Ballroom, New York City, February 12, 1998

If 1997 taught the music industry anything, it was that it almost doesn't matter who's playing anymore; what major cross-over success means today is simply, "is it a good song?" Whether it was the 15-year veteran, Chumbwamba's "over-night" success with "Tubthumping" or Sugar Ray's massive hit "Fly," it seems fickle audiences will embrace anyone, if they know how to put together a killer three minutes. Unfortunately, three minutes doesn't a concert make.

Despite a massively energetic show and a charismatic performance, Sugar Ray's usual repertoire was just too heavy for the pre-pubescent, mostly female audience who came escorted by their dads, thanks to the success of the big cross-over hit, "Fly," a track that, at least to the audience in attendance, has majorly deceived the listener.

Prancing around and all dolled up on a school night, many of the young women showed considerable difficulty walking around in their massive platform shoes, as if trying on high heels for the first time. As cool and adult as they may have tried to be (with their parents waiting in the wings), it only took two blisteringly heavy mosh-caliber songs to get heads turning in shock, looking at each other, mouths agape, as if pantomiming, "What the – !?" as the band quickly ripped through "R.P.M." and "American Pig."

Making matters worse, the spacious Roseland floor, coupled with a not even near-capacity crowd, allowed plenty of movement. Rather than enjoying the usual enthusiastic stage-front mosh-pit, people found comfortable seating around the perimeter, even talking, and ignoring the band altogether. It was only the beginning of an exodus of people heading to hang in the back.

Once Sugar Ray tore into their raucous punk tune, "Speed Home California," and their plodding, bass-heavy, "Anyone," the audience, whose sole exposure to the band was probably MTV, began to abandon them altogether. In fact, the concert seemed to be more of a place to be seen socially, than a place to witness what was transpiring on stage. By the time the band had run through their hour-and-twenty-minute set, there was only a handful of people left up front. So apparent was this, it was almost embarrassing.

In the audience's defense, while Sugar Ray's bombastic assault never let up, and they tried to balance out the set with an even mix of all their diverse musical elements, even going as far as allowing DJ Homicide a brief electronic mixing session, ultimately the show became one mind-numbing tsunami of sheer thrashy mayhem. Getting progressively louder and faster as they went along, Sugar Ray dumped one heavy song on top of another, the musical equivalent of a gang-tackle. But getting back to the original point – since there is no more loyalty to bands anymore, and the music biz is almost entirely single hit driven, the show only connected when all of the bands (openers and headliners) were playing instantly recognizable tunes.

Opening act Goldfinger, stepping out one-by-one to the James Bond theme drew massive applause, as did their sarcastic guitar intro which sounded like they were going to launch into Metallica's "Enter Sandman." Though their first few tunes drew a near-hysterical response, enthusiasm quickly waned, until their thrashy, and insulting cover of "Tubthumping" – with special guest Jerry from the Def Tones mimicking performing oral sex – got the crowd on their feet. That, and their cover of "Feel Like Makin' Love," were the only tracks they played that showed any sort of distinction what-so-ever. Despite their wicked bravado, without their horn section, there's even less to Goldfinger live than Sugar Ray, who too had some shining moments.

Sugar Ray's lead guitarist Rodney Sheppard mocked Vanilla Ice while bassist Murphy Karges tinkered with minor technical difficulties, even launching into Twisted Sister's 1984 hit, "We're Not Going to Take It," to interject some much needed "moments" into the show. Unfortunately, the audience probably had not been born yet when Twisted was where Sugar Ray is today, and for that matter, where it seems they're heading...

Sadly, "High Anxiety," "Cash" and "Mean Machine" barely raised a spark, and lead singer Mark McGrath pathetically had to whisper both opening bands' names into their finale, just to get any sort of fan response at all. When you're reduced to yelling, "Save Ferris" (the other opening ska band) to get a cheer, let's face it, you know you're in trouble.

Of course, as soon as drummer Stan Frazier stepped out from behind his kit, brandishing an acoustic guitar, and the band launched into an "unplugged" version of their big hit, the entire audience rushed the stage, with almost religious awe. It was the first time all night that everyone swelled to the front, waving lighters, and singing along, apparently having a good time. If nothing else, it ought to make Atlantic Records, Inc. think twice about the band, because if Roseland was any indicator, Sugar Ray broke out big for one reason only, and it's just not enough to headline to an audience that doesn't give a rat's ass about the rest of their material, despite how slamming it is. Or how well they pull it off at a live performance, for that matter.

When the lights went up, the crowd made a bee-line for the exits; it was the first concert in my entire life that the audience didn't scream for an encore. And it wasn't as if they just assumed that the band would return for one either; by the time "Fly" was over, they'd had enough, and were more than ready to leave. It almost makes you wonder why, for a measly three minutes, if they weren't going to at least give the band a chance, did they bother to come at all.

Sugar Ray put on a show worthy of its die-hard fans. Problem is, there aren't as many of them out there as they had thought, and the "pop crowd" that pushed them into the spotlight isn't going to stick around for anything that doesn't sound like Sublime, which leads me to offer the following message to the crowd at the concert:

February 1998