POP MUSIC REVIEW : Blue Oyster Cult Still Intense but Shows Its Age

Outside of Motorhead’s timeless Lemmy, rockers age like everyone else, and there comes a point when they might be wise to consider--once they start to look like their dads and, hence, suited for careers in accountancy and such--whether continuing to squeeze into leather pants and grimacing on stage with a hot-rodded guitar isn’t just a little bit silly .

Wednesday evening at the Coach House in San Juan Capistrano there were moments in Blue Oyster Cult’s nearly two-hour show when it seemed ripe to match its original members up with the real-life jobs they looked suited to hold (the tally: Eric Bloom--condo sales; Donald (Buck Dharma) Roeser--greengrocer; Allen Lanier--substitute teacher). But, equally, there were moments of on-stage abandon when the three--abetted by the nonstock rhythm section of Ron Riddle and Jon Rogers--already seemed to have found their ideal career placement.

BOC always seemed a bit of a breed apart from other metal bands. Assisted by collaborations with rock poetess Patti Smith and critics Sandy Pearlman and R. Meltzer, the band’s penchant for arcane, crypto-fascist symbolism and taut, Quicksilver-influenced guitar arrangements gave the impression that they were brighter, funnier and more self-aware than most alloyed outfits.

Both in its early ‘70s inception and on-stage Wednesday, BOC showed as much in common with Heavy Metal (the sci-fi fantasy comic magazine) as it did with heavy metal (the music form). Like the mag, their music was well-crafted, nearly literate, and unhedgingly indulgent of male adolescent fantasies. Unlike their early years, though, the group’s intensity wavered, with much of the material delivered in a perfunctory manner, further retarded by an abrasive sound mix. On such numbers as “Cities on Flame,” “Black Blade” and even their anthemic ode to death “(Don’t Fear) the Reaper,” lead guitarist Roeser and singer-guitarist Bloom merely seemed to be clocking time on the job with ill-defined, speed-exercise solos and clenched-fist poses.

But on certain songs the group burned with the intensity that only comes with a full-tilt engagement in one’s work. “Dominance and Submission” achieved a Wagnerian bluster; Roeser’s “Astronomy” showed his playing still possesses a melodic side; and, while lacking the raging totality of the Firehose cover, their “The Red and the Black” still came off as one of the masterpieces of speed-demon crunch rock, with all three guitarists (Lanier doubled on keyboards and guitar) in a row shredding away at their fretboards. Silly? Yes, but intensely silly.