Muse

Maybe they were right. Maybe all you need is love. Marriage to a Hollywood starlet appears to have done Matt Bellamy the world of good, if his crowd-pleasing histrionics in the O2 are anything to go by. Tonight, he’s full-on cheerleader, beckoning the crowd at every turn, howling like a giddy teenager when the whim strikes.
Choosing to deploy the utterly ludicrous ‘Unsustainable’ first is a masterstroke, its dubstep leanings and paranoid pronouncements swallowed up by a crowd determined to create frenzy. It also sets the tone for a relentless opening barrage that skilfully marries both old and new as ‘Hysteria’ and ‘Supermassive Black Hole’ slot in comfortably alongside more recent material. ‘Supremacy’, Muse’s most explicit stab at a Bond theme to date, sees Bellamy drop to his knees atop a crowd-centric platform, obscured by thousands of outstretched arms, whilst the glorious ‘Panic Station’ defines a whole new dimension of camp in a live setting, helped along by the unforgettable image of a cartoon purple hippo doing the robot.
Such a frenetic beginning practically invites a lull. Sadly, it comes to pass. The ponderous ‘Animals’ prompts a flurry of bar activity, thanks in part to didactic accompanying imagery of suited men sporting rictus grins and rubbing their hands with glee. Absolute power corrupts absolutely, in case you were previously unaware.
Changing tone, Muse go back in time. The acidic, piano-driven ‘Sunburn’ provokes awe from some corners and ignorance from others. ‘Plug In Baby’, meanwhile, leaves a most intriguing mark. Initially sounding as reckless as it did over ten years ago, its scuzzy aesthetic is ultimately compromised by clumsy additions. A Warholian pink-and-blue backdrop, pretty in its own right, is a distraction, as is the Queen-esque protracted outro. The blend of what Muse once was and what they now represent proves jarring.
Still, there are plenty of moments that mesmerise. The ever-compelling ‘Madness’, now with added tremolo flourishes. The playful simplicity of the Eurythmics-tinged ‘Undisclosed Desires’. That guitar run during ‘Stockholm Syndrome’. An evolving stage set-up that manages to be both spectacular and intimate when the moment calls for it. Speaking of which, the much-mooted ode to The Wall sees the trio embark on the sombre ‘Isolated System’ as a video pyramid descends around them, the effect elevating a track that previously felt weak on record.
If the evening’s opening salvo was expertly crafted, the big finish is less than satisfying. ‘Survival’ proves as divisive in Dublin as it did when unveiled several months back for the Olympics. From the body language on display, there are scores who fully embrace the pomp and circumstance, but just as many who are left cold. Then again, it’s worth remembering that this is a band that intros the Morricone-on-acid ‘Knights Of Cydonia’ with a fucking harmonica. All the world’s a stage where Muse are concerned, and everything else is vaudeville.