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Albany Newspaper Review
September 11, 1998

MMMBop till you drop: Hanson at the Pepsi Arena
By. J. Eric Smith
ALL THE YOUNG DUDES
Hanson
Pepsi Arena, September 11, 1998.
Typed up by: Erin A.K.A. IVORY1408@aol.com
Originally posted on AFH by Jessica Rose

Bongwater's Ann Magnuson once sang, "Frankly, at this point I'd rather see Brigadoon than Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer," and while watching the rest of the Video Music Awards, I realized exactly what she meant, as I found myself more engaged by the pathologically cute Hanson Brothers and Jennifer Love Hewitt than I was by the just plain pathological Ol' Dirty Bastard and Courtney Love. And I actually viewed this as a good thing that night, since I was scheduled to review Hanson in Concert 24 hours later with my 7-year-old daugther, Katelin, in tow and I believed that for her sake, I should try to avoid oozing the sort of disapproval that I normally exude at such concerts. BUT Guess what? I didn't need to use any of that personal self-restraint, because young Isaac, Taylor and Zac Hanson, put on the MOST entertaining show I've seen at the Pepsi-Arena in at least a year, maybe longer. Hanson had better songs and more musical common sense than Phish. They had far fewer anonymous supporting musicians than Fleetwood Mac. They worked harder than Aerosmith. They were more mature than AC/DC. They had better hair than Metallica. And they sang far better than any of those bands, sounding less chip-munk-y in concert than they did on either their megaplatinum breakthrough album, Middle Of Nowhere, or their recently issued rarieties collection, Three Car Garage.

Midway through their set, Friday, Hanson re-created those early garage days by dismissing their supporting players and diving into several songs, semi-unplugged, while packed close to each other at the front of the stage. It was during that mid-show mini-set that the boys won me over- Zac laid down some great rock-steady Ringo beats, Isaac played a series of credible Neil Young-style one-string guitar solos, and Taylor did the best Steve Winwood impressions imaginable as he throttled his wheezy organ and sang sweet soul as well as any skinny white kid's ever gonna sing it.

After Isaac took a solo turn on a sweet piano ballad, Hanson's hired hands returned to the stage, and the fully fortified six-piece band ripped through another dozen tunes, including an impressive interpretation of Steppenwolf's "Magic Carpet Ride" and (of course) that most infectious and audience-lathering of singles, "MMMBop." And despite their tender years, less-than-muscular builds and generally toonice demeanors, the brothers Hanson, played extremely hard and loud throughout their set, which was probably necessary, given the volume of the audience. The incessant shrieks from fans coalesced into a sound akin to what you might hear if you had all of your teeth drilled at once. At the show's sonic crescendo, Katelin tapped me on the arm, looked up with a marvelously wide-eyed expression and said, "Dad, something's making my chest feel all funny inside!" I told her I felt that way too, although I didn't divulge whether it was because of Hanson's ferocious beat or because I was moved by seeing kids young enough to be my own, living and playing what I can only write about. Could someone please remind me why it is I am supposed to look down my nose at acts like Hanson?

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