Click here to listen to a podcast with 30 Seconds to Mars
The road from Hollywood to rock arena is notoriously treacherous. Jared Leto at least made the trip in more auspicious conditions than most. An acclaimed American actor, the 36-year-old found fame in the short-lived teen television series My So-Called Life, as a monosyllabic slacker student who fronted a band. Edgy roles in Requiem for a Dream, The Thin Red Line and Fight Club followed. A decade ago, he formed 30 Seconds to Mars as a stress-relieving side project, with his brother Shannon on drums.
A debut album, produced by Bob Ezrin, best known for Pink Floyd's The Wall, proved little more than that Leto had a melodic howl and that his band could play in tune. In 2005, the follow-up, A Beautiful Lie, was similarly dismissed as a movie star's self-indulgence until, almost a year later, the single The Kill took up residence on US rock radio. To date, A Beautiful Lie has sold more than 1m copies in America, and The Kill's release here - with a Kerrang! award win for 2007's best single - helped the album to achieve gold status.
On the band's biggest UK tour to date, Leto certainly made for a convincing rock star - too convincing, perhaps. A full two minutes of ominous opera preceded the quartet's arrival, clad all in black, bar blood-red, bandit-like bandannas across their faces, matching the colour of six giant flags draped either side of the stage. Even Martin Scorsese might struggle to muster as cinematic an entrance. Still, there are plenty of front men who could do with a dose of Leto's theatricality, or his striking good looks. He spun himself round as he ran, his fitted frock coat twirling with him. The effect was a dandy highwayman for the emo generation, or a Noughties Adam Ant in eyeliner, but without the white stripes. When he grabbed a bottle of water and whipped its contents in a circle above his head, then in an arch to the audience, you could have sworn its trajectory had been carefully choreographed.
What mattered most, of course, was the music, though there was little of it in evidence in the opener, Battle of One. The guitars were heavy, but lacked power, while Leto wailed like his life depended on it, but struggled to locate a tune. "I want every motherf***er out there jumping," he demanded, and fans obliged, although as many camera phones as fists were held high in the air, spoiling the effect. The forthcoming single, From Yesterday, a raucous, My Chemical Romance-like track, finally kicked the gig into gear, after which A Beautiful Lie's melodic hard rock had the crowd bouncing without invitation. The Kill was a glorious, soaring highlight: Leto put on a fedora and stepped onto the shoulders of fans in the front row. For that moment, he was a rock star without pretence, one whose artfully sloping fringe, chiselled cheekbones and list of Alist ex-lovers (Diaz, Johansson, Lohan, Hilton) didn't matter a jot. With its blippy electronics, passionate delivery and chorus handed to the crowd, Attack proved almost as good, until it closed with the quartet walking off stage after just 40 minutes.
Advertisement
Leto returned for a solo cover of Björk's Hunter that proved how much he needs the band he didn't bother to acknowledge, before the cascading pop-rocker The Fantasy closed proceedings on a high. Leto promised to come down into the crowd to sign autographs afterwards. Black-clad boys scowled and headed for the exit, while girls grabbed their friends and shrieked with delight.
Barrowland, Glasgow