By Todd Lavoie
You know, I wish I didn’t have to say it, I really do. Everything would be so much easier if I simply sucked it up, declared it a no-biggie, and didn’t say it. What’s done is done, I’ve told myself I don’t know how many times since Tuesday night, so just flick off that OCD switch in your brainbox, buddy. But I can’t, unfortunately, so two deep breaths and here goes: I checked out Siouxsie‘s Mantaray tour show at the Fillmore on Tuesday, Feb. 12, and I must admit that I was more than a bit disappointed.
You know that ole quip, “This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you?” Well, it rings true here, folks, so lest anyone chalk me up as a Siouxsie-hater – and I’ve met aplenty in my day – or worse yet, a fair-weathered fan, let me say this: Siouxsie has been a fixture in my life for a couple of decades now. Her work with the Banshees kept me sane in the cruel cookie-cutter kingdom of high school. Songs such as “Metal Postcard” and “Swimming Horses” were perennial go-to sources for escape and solace not just as an awkward tenenager, but through college and beyond.
Every time I throw on Boomerang (Geffen) – her exotic marimba-fest with then-husband Budgie as the Creatures – I find the memory-bank floodgates opening up, gushing over with fond memories of friends who felt just as enthralled by her as I did. I reveled and raved when she hooked up with those collab-lovin’ blokes in Basement Jaxx to unleash some deliciously unbridled floor-thumping sass with the classic single “Cish Cash.” And yes, I went unequivocally ga-ga over Siouxsie’s slate-cleaning solo splash, last year’s electrifying Mantaray (Universal) – hell, I even blathered and jabbered away about it right here on this blog back in October. So, yeah, I’ve always considered myself one of the former Susan Dallion’s ever-faithful, ready to sing holy, holy to her whenever the opportunity presented itself.