It's strange to think about nowadays, but "MTV Unplugged" used to be damn near a cultural event-- maybe the last U.S. television concert series to seem more valuable than an infomercial. The concept almost sounds ridiculous in retrospect, but during the rise of grunge and the genesis of hip-hop's radio dominance, the loosely-enforced acoustic laws seemed like a formidable challenge to artists used to sleepwalking through hollow talk-show appearances. Sure, the whole "authenticity" angle was conservative-minded crap, but for the few that truly bought into the concept, this restriction spurred creativity, forcing bands to give a unique performance rather than the same old replication of their latest record and greatest hits.
One of the most famous "Unplugged" episodes, of course, was Nirvana's 1993 set-- and not just because Kurt Cobain died six months later. Nirvana showed a willingness to embrace the show's formula, covering David Bowie and Vaselines songs, giving spirited performances of deep cuts, and inviting the Meat Puppets on stage just because they could. As a result, their "Unplugged" set was an exceptional case where novel things were learned about the featured band: Cobain was proven to be a much better singer than anyone suspected, the band turned out to have subtle nuances hidden beneath their waves of distortion, and prospective (sadly unrealized) fruitful directions were suggested for their music.
Though Dave Grohl brought it on himself by releasing this acoustic live album, Skin and Bones, I'll admit to feeling somewhat guilty about mentioning the N-word in a Foo Fighters review. Particularly for a younger generation, it's no longer Grohl's primary claim to fame, as he's spent the past 12 years leading the Foos through a very successful run of records, indulging his metal sensibilities with side project Probot, and graciously playing the part of unfeatured session man on albums for Queens of the Stone Age and Cat Power. Most notably, the Foo Fighters have long since shed their spinoff-band origins, becoming, rather appropriately, perhaps the archetypal band for post-Nirvana alt-rock, crafting single after single of anthemic pop-rock with a soft spot for arena bombast, but tempered by a self-deprecating sense of humor.
That status has earned the band the right to indulge in some rockstar excess of late, first with last year's electric/acoustic double album In Your Honor, and now with tour document Skin and Bones. But rather than revealing any subtleties within the Foo Fighters' sound, Skin and Bones exposes limitations in Grohl's songwriting and vocals, and spends most of its 73 minutes reinforcing their one-dimensionality.
The fact that the band follows the "intimate" gameplan only half-heartedly, ballooning out to eight members and going electric at will, betrays the fact that they're most comfortable and best-heard at full volume. Stabs at grim seriousness like "Razor" and "Friend of a Friend" spin their wheels during meandering verses which spotlight Grohl's easy rhymes and lazy riffs, while heavy-mass songs like "Everlong" and "My Hero" sound wounded by the lack of amplification. Grohl's voice repeatedly wilts under the extra scrutiny, either clunkily screaming for emphasis or under-pronouncing words for dramatic effect.
A couple of songs do benefit from the expanded lineup; for instance, the inevitable Petra Haden appearance lends a rich violin to dusty Nirvana rarity "Marigold", and "Next Year" is the one mega-hit to be given a decent rearrangement, courtesy of some mean accordion work. But these brief respites can't hide that most of these interchangeable dorm-room chord progressions and broad-appeal lyrics sound a pride-swallow away from the much-dreaded "This Is Our Country", thanks to the unfortunate side effects of the acoustic guitar and Dylan-organ emphasis. By deflating their sound so severely, Skin and Bones inadvertently reminds us of the more cynical sides of why "MTV Unplugged" was such compelling television: its vanity-mirror ability to magnify and illuminate a band's hidden flaws.
