Drum Media, September 29, 1992
By Barry Divola
...Then the Three Stooges bound across the stage. Nyuk, nyuk, nuyk, it's The Beastie Boys. Mike D, in flappy shorts and a head of bleached fuzz, could easily audition for the mighty Curly when the inevitable bio-movie eventuates. No longer the Bud-spraying, groin obsessed pubescents of old, the beasties prove tonight once and for all that they're not the cartoon brats they were painted initially.
There's no "Fight For Your Right To Party" tonight. They're fighting for their right to be diverse as all hell. But don't worry, they still come out of the blocks like labrador pups on hot cement when that beat first kicks in. It's a game of three parts. There's the more familiar three-pronged prowling rap machine, where the lads are the tag team champions of the world. There are the tearaway thrash numbers with Ad Rock and MCA holding their guitars ridiculously high for the gentre Mike D screams his head off.
Finally (and most effectively) there are the acidic funky workouts where Mike D lays down the beat, Ad Rock scratches up some wah wah, MCA walks some groovy shapes on his bass fretboard, and the frenetic Money Mike Yashuda adds dollops of steaming, swirling Hammond organ.
What we, what we, what we want is for this three-ring circus to go on for at least the rest of the weekend, but after what seems like 30 minutes (but is in fact just over an hour) they disappear. A couple of encores later and it's all over. Pure entertainment, some cool innovations, and enough mighty rhythms to have us shaking our rumps all night long.
Photos taken by Anna Carey and supplied by David Aston of Trout Fishing In Quebec.