During Chevelle’s first headlining tour, I attempted to find reason why people had paid money to attend. I should have known that on the strength of two MTV hits, this hard rock act was guaranteed to lure a crowd.

A rule of thumb to concertgoers: Disappointment looms when not one of 10 random people can give a compelling reason why they are at the show.

“If it’s on MTV and here at The Granada, then they can’t be that bad. I mean, it’s only 14 bucks,” said one man, proving my hunch. I still searched for a better explanation.

“It’s sold out because they sound kind of like Tool. The two songs on the radio are pretty good,” another patron said. Sure, with big bucks for promotion and an attractive music video, record companies can convince most people that anything that rocks loud is good.

The three-piece band, composed of brothers from suburban Chicago, spewed out tortured vocals and frustratingly minimal lyrics.

“I’m usually in a bad mood when I write a song,” singer Pete Loeffler was quoted as saying in press reports. Obviously. The lyrics were not interesting, just angry.

The screaming vocals could not save the monotone guitar riffs. The redundancy of the heavy bass-driven riffs yielded little musical complexity. Predictably, a few of the tunes bore enough catchy melodies to evoke a mediocre reaction.

As the night continued, it became clear that Chevelle would never stand the test of time, even though one man adamantly claimed that the trio’s sound was “euphoric.”

“Chevelle will still be making albums when this whole skate phase is over,” he said, while his friend just shook his head with pity and disagreed, “No, Pink Floyd is euphoric. This is just a lot of promotion.”

Chevelle will survive for a while by spewing out deft music videos to perpetuate a false sense of layered musical genius. But such is the modern music industry.

A man from Barcelona summarized, ” I don’t know why I’m listening to this hoo hoo nanny.”

Well put.

— Monica White is a Kansas University journalism student.