Fans twirled signs that flashed the words “Muse are Gods” in capital red letters. The band’s performance at Arrow Hall in Mississauga, Ontario on August 1 was a rock ‘n’ roll hyperbole; they left the crowd believing those three words by night’s end.
From the very first notes of “Knights of Cydonia,” a galloping ride to battle, the crowd was ready to fight to the death as they sang this four-line chorus, this magnificent call-to-arms: “No one’s going to take me alive / The time has come to make things right / You and I must fight for our rights / You and I must fight to survive.” Singer Matthew Bellamy pointed at the sky, as if calling on the Gods, who must have heard the war cry.
The band kept the crowd inspired using marvelous visuals like a blazing light emanating from Bellamy’s guitar as it roared to life. Bellamy’s own theatrics, like playing the guitar behind his head, weren’t pompous or excessive – they were meant to captivate, like a leader’s speech before he leads his troops to probable death.
Signs of chemical warfare flashed along the screen during “Apocalypse Please.” Horribly violent images of riots and war contrasted powerfully with the moving and uplifting “Invincible” to put the crowd into the proper mindset for battle.
Muse was preparing their army of followers to rid this once beautiful world of corrupt leaders and save us from plummeting into the Apocalypse. Their message was simple: “Together we’re invincible.”
It was a message instantly understood by the overzealous crowd. Every song was precluded by a jam session of sorts, toiling with the crowd as their anticipation for those first familiar notes of the next song grew exponentially until it erupted in magnificent chaos.
The show was equal treat for the ears as it was for the eyes, though. The whale call that flowed from Bellamy’s guitar at the start of “Invincible” was a cosmic, majestic metaphor for the strength of the Muse legion. Dominic Howard’s extended drum solo during “Map of the Problematique” was daunting in size. Bellamy’s freewheeling proficiency on guitar as well as piano gave new life to songs like “Butterflies and Hurricanes” and “Starlight.”
Closing the set with “Stockholm Syndrome,” a common choice for the band, served as a sort of kamikaze end to the night – destroying the evil and corrupt by ending their own lives and the performance as they screamed the final words, “This is the last time I’ll abandon you / And this is the last time I’ll forget you / I wish I could!”
The battle was fought; the good guys won and Muse transcended as martyrs. That night at Arrow Hall, they truly were Gods.