My Bloody Valentine returned to U.S. shores for the first time in 16 years last week, and I took in Saturday night’s show at the Aragon Ballroom in Chicago. While some debate the legacy of a band that was nary a household name in their heyday, I tend to prefer the take that the reunion is a welcome chance to see a group that was criminally underappreciated by the public but a huge influence and inspiration to a large amount of musicians (for reference, see the Pixies reunion tour circa 2004).

The Aragon was surprisingly good sounding for a venue that is notorious for horribly muddy acoustics (in fact, the best I’ve heard since the Smashing Pumpkins’ Machina tour). Between grainy video projections and a phalanx of constantly flashing strobes, the overall atmosphere was one of constant bombardment, especially when factoring in My Bloody Valentine’s legendarily loud shows.

However, I’m not debating MBV’s importance or even providing a detailed review of the show itself, but commenting on something that struck me as the show progressed. But the band sounded great and overall, I was really enjoying the show.

Until the set-closing performance of “You Made Me Realise.” I’m sorry, but the “Holocaust” is complete and total bullshit. For those who are unaware, in the midst of the song, the band locks into a chord, and proceeds to play it, at a deafening volume. It’s definitely a unique experience. Descriptions of the sound are often compared to being inside a jet engine, and in truth, that’s not very far off. You can feel your whole body vibrate as the noise pours over you; combined with the incessant light show, it has the effect of completely disorienting your sense of equilibrium.

Below is a YouTube clip from the Toronto performance two nights prior:

The sensation was unique and exciting at first. And then it went on. And on. And on. For 23 straight minutes. If any modern band or new band tried to get away with pushing the boundaries of their audience like this, they’d be ripped apart by fans and the press. In the midst of the maelstrom, it made me think of all the times Billy Corgan has pushed the limits and tested the patience of concertgoers and the amount of backlash he receives. And I’ve often been one of them, having been on record of my dislike of the extended versions of songs like “Heavy Metal Machine,” “United States,” and their “Set the Controls” cover. But at least those have some redeeming musical qualities. My Bloody Valentine deign to turn the crowd into a psychological experiment, and do so to the detriment of their overall show, especially when the show barely clocks in at an hour and a half total.

While Corgan would be eviscerated for such a self-indulgent, pretentious, egocentric act, I fully expected the reviews of the notoriously mysterious Kevin Shields and co. to be glowing and reverential since MBV have reached “legendary” status due to their prolonged absence. Surprisingly, while most reviewers took the predicted tack, there were some naysayers and temperates, including Time Out Chicago, the always amusing Jim Derogatis, and the even-handed group at Consequence of Sound, whose overall take most closely resembles my own.

However, I wonder just how different all the reviews above would read were the band unleashing this sonic experiment the Pumpkins rather than My Bloody Valentine.

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