Yesterday marked the 30th anniversary of the release of Rage Against the Machine’s self-titled album. Appropriately released on election day in the politically tumultuous year (are there any other sorts of years?) of 1992, it was an obscure release that didn’t promise much commercial success given the relatively untapped genre of of rock-hop hybrid, the peculiarity of Zack de la Rocha’s vocal tone (or lack thereof), the awkward but wonderful brutality of Tom Morello’s guitar playing, and of course, the subject matter of the songs which weren’t hidden in any way in the name of the band. They were anti-establishment, anti-government, anti-machine and they were furious about it.

And yet, the album went on to sell more than 3 million copies and launched RATM onto festival stages and into the collective consciousness of a generation. It was such an interesting era in rock music. Hair and glam rock were finally dying and it was being replaced by something altogether more honest with its own angst and anger. Grunge, of course, directed most of that anger towards self in agonizing reflections of self-loathing, while RATM adopted the posture more familiar to early hip-hop of channeling that anger towards other, the oppressor, the man, whoever he may be. I remember hearing them for the first time at a friend’s party in 1993. I was 14 and I had never heard anything even vaguely like it. As a kid from a conservative church home I knew that I wasn’t allowed to like this, but I really, really did. It became the soundtrack of a lot of darkened garage mosh-pits for adolescent boys in the northern suburbs of Johannesburg. I am not entirely sure what we were so outraged about, but we found expression for it in a band from thousands of miles away.

All this to say, when a really good friend called earlier this year and asked me if I wanted to join him to see Rage at Madison Square Garden, there was only really one answer and it didn’t take me long to give it. RATM at The Garden? Um, yes I want to do that. My 14 year old lizard brain took over before I could even vaguely think it through, and I am glad it did. It was a really fun show. I have chronicled some of my thoughts below, and yes I do know that I overthink these experiences and that it makes me painful to tag along with. My friends know what they are getting, and yet they keep inviting me - for the most part.

Rage Against The Machine - August 8th, 2022

Hype

Let me start with what I loved. I use the word “hype” in the contemporary and altogether positive description of something that was really good. “That was hype!” And it really was.

The performance, the playing, the production, the energy … all of it was of a quality that you rarely see. It was in my top 5 shows of all time. From the opening notes of “Bombtrack” (what a way to start) to the final cries of “Killing in the Name” it was tight, smooth, furious, loud and they kept the attention of the entire crowd for more than two and a half hours. They sounded fantastic. What surprised me was the calibre of their playing and the sophistication of the production. Morello is a monster of course, but Tim Commerford on bass was a pleasant surprise. He has such chops and was in total lock step with Brad Wilk the entire night. Wilk himself plays hard but is never frantic, and chooses moments of indulgence very carefully, always choosing to place the integrity the song over any display of his own abilities. Zach’s vocals actually sounded great, and his pitching was a lot better than when I had previously heard them. He does have a pitch and tenor that are tiresome but you know that coming to a Rage show. They made the best use of a massive screen of anyone I have seen outside of U2. There were no lulls, and the entire arena stood throughout with the rhythmic nods of middle-aged dudes moving through the room like ripples across a pond. All of this was in spite of the fact that Zach had to sit on a box for the entire set after he had suffered a pretty terrible leg-break that almost canceled the entire tour and has since canceled the remainder.

Apparently Rage had been rehearsing, and it showed. They were absolutely brilliant. While the entire set was great, the highlight for me was undoubtedly their cover of Springsteen’s “Ghost of Tom Joad.” As a fan of The Boss and a bog fan of the writings of Steinbeck, I was mesmerized by this tribute.

Now to the less ideal parts.

Hypocrisy

It is tough to stomach an anarchic worldview when you are in your 40’s. It is even tougher to stomach it after paying for $100 tickets and standing in (ironically very orderly) lines for $14 hot dogs and $40 t-shirts about the evils of a free market economy. Tom’s signature blue guitar has the words “arm the homeless” written on it, a juvenile sentiment at the best of times, but laughably sad in the context of the hundreds of people experiencing chronic homelessness that you walk past on your way in to Madison Square Garden. Apparently, they ought to be armed, but they still aren’t allowed into the very expensive show taking place in their neighborhood. It is true that RATM donated a portion of ticket and merch sales to charities helping the homeless, and that is to be commended, but that plays into a way more complex set of solutions to societies ills than they continue to claim. Apparently, the solution to chronic homelessness is less “arm the homeless” and more “take the money of middle-aged suburban men” which feels a lot like, well, capitalism really. I just wish they would acknowledge the tension of that. But tension and nuance don’t tend to lend themselves to the best riffs and rhymes. I get it.

I also couldn’t help noticing the large security presence at the front of the stage. Apparently, anarchy is risky and the possibility of it necessitates 16 (I counted) guards in the line between those calling for it and the very real threat of those who might act it out. All of this is while footage of burning cop cars played on the screen. The band didn’t seem to notice the hubris of that. I had hoped that they would.

Lastly, for an anarchist (self-confessed), Zach is quite dictatorial. On several occasions throughout the show he insisted that everyone do a particular thing. “Every single one of you put your fist in the air right now. Every single one of you in this room.” This is literally what he said (and waited for) before he launched into a participatory chant of … “F*** you, I won’t do as you tell me.”

And yet, they did. He insisted on it. Now I know, “Killing in the Name” was an important protest against police brutality. It is a significant song. But I was a little astonished at the lack of thoughtfulness of four intelligent, middle-aged, millionaires telling people what to do which was to shout out that they wouldn’t do what others told them to do. It is this lack of self-awareness which jarred me.

The bad guys are so easy to identify because they are never ourselves. They are always a system outside of us, even when we have grown to benefit from and exacerbate the same systems we hate. This was beautifully summarized by a (rather drunk) patron in the mens restroom after the show. I chuckled as he asked his (equally drunk) friend … “Who are we supposed to be raging against again?”

Who indeed?

Hope

All of this might seem a little scathing and I get that. I mean, what was I expecting at a Rage show? I guess I was hoping that maybe the band had spent the last 30 years channeling their rage into some actual solutions, discharging it as a powerfully destructive energy against things that hurt people and keep them subdued. I guess I hoped that they had grown up a bit since 1992, just as the 14 year old boys in dimly lit Johannesburg garages have.

As I have gotten older I have come to the painful realization that outrage is easy but meaningful activism is complex, and hard. It is a necessary pain that comes with maturity to realize that obvious problems have complicated solutions. The answer, of course, isn’t just to avoid the rage. There are many things in the world that should make us furious and we shouldn’t retreat to suburban enclaves of indifference as our solution to the heartburn that exposure to injustice and suffering inevitably brings. Paul tells us in Ephesians 4 that it is okay, and sometimes right, to be angry, but it isn’t okay to let that anger lead to sin. Maybe that is the ultimate tension that I felt all night as I wrestled not just with songs that shaped me so much as a young man, but also wrestled with my own disappointment at how compromised that young man would grow up to be. I am the machine, now what do I do?

And that is why I left the show with lots of hope. As we poured out into the Manhattan streets I saw the potential of tens of thousands of people who had been reminded that the status quo isn’t good enough for a lot of people in the world. Discontent can function as a seed of awakening in a society, and I could feel the fruit of that awakening growing inside of me through an evening of discontented reminder. Imagine if we could channel that sort of discontent into churches and communities in a way that made us respond not in the sin of anarchy but in the love of the Kingdom of God. Imagine if we took the time to hammer our rage on the anvil of love until it turned into a tool useful for human flourishing?

And so, to the four men of Rage Against the Machine, thank you for one of the best nights of live music I have ever experienced.
But no … I won’t do what you told me. And you shouldn’t want it any other way.