The The's Matt Johnson, holding a sword

It would seem, after waiting more than six years for new material from brooding modern rock maestro Matt Johnson, that another three hours would be just a cakewalk. But those of us that arrived when the doors opened at 8, suffered through the opening act’s soundcheck and (even more taxing) their performance, were beginning to get a little testy when The The still hadn’t taken the stage by 10:45.

The devoted fans, who-quite honestly-were advanced enough in age that postponed bedtimes might be a source of frustration, began to voice their anger after each hopeful pause in the house music yielded nothing but another nameless techno song. Personally, I was battling an upset stomach, dried-out contacts in my eyes, and a severe case of (as I believe doctors call it) “numb legs.” We were not a happy bunch.

The The, minus Johnson (a contradiction in terms) finally appeared on stage, and they were met with a relieved round of applause. But there was this truly magic moment when Matt Johnson appeared, and we all lit up like a bunch of Backstreet fans, casting away all negative thoughts the moment we caught a glimpse of that wonderfully familiar-looking shaved head. Johnson, the consummate musical perfectionist, began immediately tinkering with the equipment, as we patiently waited for that first song. “Take all the time you need, Matt,” was the new and improved vibe of the moment, and it would last the rest of the night.

Backtracking a bit, I should point out that I caught The The in the D.C. area, in the early 90s, when they were promoting their new album "Dusk." While that album is definitely a terrific one, the concert itself was lackluster. Johnny Marr, formerly of The Smiths and Electronic, and a definitive guitar god for many of us lonely souls, was a no-show. A real disappointment. Instead, we were “treated” to an obnoxious harmonica player who upstaged the band, including Johnson, throughout the concert. The scariest part was that the crowd, populated largely by teenagers, was eating it up. They couldn’t get enough of this fucking clown, as he trotted around with his little two-note mouth stick, while Johnson (who is to The The what Trent Reznor is to Nine Inch Nails, by the way) faded into the background. This, combined with the fact that it was really too large an auditorium for The The to be playing, made for a very unimpressive show.

Oh yeah, and the opening act was some Irish group called The Cranberries. Wonder whatever happened to them.

Needless to say, we were ready for one hell of a redemption. As I mentioned before, the night did not begin well, with the opening band Reflecting Skin giving a whole lot of attitude during the soundcheck. When they returned to do their set of sonically similar songs, they were again chock full of ego. The lead singer, taking herself very seriously, seemed to fancy herself as the next Michael Stipe--with melodramatic dances in between her vocals. Problem was this wasn’t R.E.M. The highlight for me was when she, so into the musical spirits she was conjuring, danced a little too close to the amplifier, and knocked out the lead guitarist’s cord. Watching them try to slickly replace it, while continuing to “rock,” was far more entertaining than their slew of tedious ditties.

And this is another reason why Matt Johnson is a pro. In between each song--most of which derive from The The’s upcoming Valentine’s Day release “Naked Self,”--Johnson made no bones about asking the Middle East technicians to raise or lower levels, and tweak something or other to make each song sound right. Any audience would be forgiving of such anal retentiveness, when the outcome is, as it was that night, such musically dense, and melodically layered songs.

As terrible as it is to admit this, I must now point out that I only recall the name of one of the new songs that The The performed; partly because “Swine Fever” is hard to forget, and partly because it was a stand-out brilliant song. However, the eight or nine songs that the band performed from the upcoming release--whatever they were called--are well worth getting excited about. Though they remain true to classic The The (Johnson’s canyon-deep vocals; thrashingly melodic instrumentation; and pitch-black lyrics), the new songs indeed represent a technical progression for the band, and should fit in quite nicely in the new millennium.

I can list the old favorites that The The treated us with, which included a slowed-down “The Beat(en) Generation,” the brilliant “Uncertain Smile” and “Infected,” and two great numbers off “Dusk”: “Dogs of Lust” and “Love is Stronger than Death.” The absolute high point of the night was a (topical enough) rendition of “Armageddon Days Are Here (Again),” a song that is good on the album, and truly amazing live. Johnson, with tongue-in-cheek, replaced the names from the opening of the song (“Are you ready, Jesus? Yeah. Buddha? Uh-huh. Mohammed? OK. Well, alright then.”) with his bandmates names. Oh, what a kidder.

The band has always been a revolving door of talent, with Matt Johnson being the only constant. Truly the band was at its strongest when Marr was a part of it, but Johnson has a very tight, pedigreed bunch today. As always, what matters the most is that Johnson is writing and performing songs that stay true to his uniquely dark and sardonic visions. And as long as at least some of them contain the words “blood,” “semen,” “sweat,” “scrotum,” “womb,” “lust,” or “soul,” (which they inevitably do) The The is definitely alive and kicking.

For more detailed information on the band’s current members, the upcoming album release, and a walk down The The memory lane, I recommend checking out: www.thethe.com. For obvious reasons, attempting to do an Internet search on the band’s name can be extremely frustrating and fruitless. Therefore, this site is a great starting-off point, and it certainly fills the craters of details I’ve left out.

The The fans can finally rejoice that their leader has returned. The new album promises to be a welcome addition to their esteemed discography, and it is comforting to know that Johnson is back and more charismatic than ever. Though this concert was the last of the millennium for the band, and the final one in their warm-up tour, Matt promised he’d be returning in a couple months when the album is released (a heads-up for all that would like to witness the genius). He wished us a happy new year, (“. . . And don’t let the Y2K bugs bite,”) then was gone.

And in our souls and our scrotums and our wombs we knew that The The was worth the wait.