I’d only seen Superdrag once before, December 2000 at the now-demolished Union South. Despite the fact that the venue was never more than a thinly disguised cafeteria and the crowds often pitiful, the music directorate always did a good job of bringing some fine indie music to campus. Two very enjoyable power pop bands, Cesto and Ashtray Babyhead (names I only remember because I bought both CDs), opened the show in front of a surprisingly decent sized crowd. I knew only one Superdrag song, the ’96 kinda hit “Sucked Out,” and when they hadn’t played it 45 minutes into their set, I left to go to my college senior sister’s Christmas party.
That wasn’t going to happen this time. One, because I was with the biggest Superdrag fan I know, and two, I actually knew more than one song. We had listened to nothing but on the drive to Chicago and I had spent the requisite time with the most recent record. Maybe if I would have had those factors going for me almost a decade ago I would have stayed till the end of the show. It’s hard to imagine that I hadn’t been grabbed immediately by the undeniable catchiness of their songs, or captivated by the energy on stage. Most of the latter emanates from magnetic front man John Davis, as he motivated the crowd into sing-a-longs (the loudest being for their “hit”) and enthusiastic cheers.
The fate of the band was uncertain just a few years ago after Davis found God, or as he claims, “he found me.” The rock and roll lifestyle had taken its toll and who knows how much longer he would have lasted without some divine intervention. After a solo record that could probably be classified as Christian rock (it is certainly suitable for Sunday listening), Davis reformed the original line-up for a handful of reunion gigs, which eventually led to a new record Industry Giants, followed by more shows. Unlike their first go round, this time they all have day jobs and families, so, much like the Wrens, they only go out for a weekend at a time.
Like the record, the show started with a bang as the band blasted into lead off track “Slow to Speak, Slow to Anger,” one of several representatives from the new record in tonight’s set. Though I haven’t actually sat down with the lyrics, tracks like that and the equally rocking “Everything’ll Be Made Right” hint at the influence of a higher power. This time I did get to hear “Sucked Out” which was greeted with enthusiastic applause. Maybe if it had been in the middle of the set last time I wouldn’t have been so disappointed. As Davis said in an interview, “people want to hear it,” even though the song is now 13 years old. I know I did. The highlights of the rest of their intense set were probably “Do the Vampire” and the incredible entertaining bass player “Senator” Tom Pappas.
I’m not sure where the nickname came from, whether it was something he came up with or one the band designated, but after seeing pictures of him and his explosive hair I had changed the Senator to “Sideshow.” And he really is closer to the latter. While some might find his on-stage antics annoying, I was (oddly enough) completely charmed by him and his ridiculous duck walk. His white shirt/white pants outfit made it almost impossible for me to not watch him. I wish we would have chosen the other side of the stage, but how could I know? Instead, we were situated in front of quiet, Jeff Tweedy doppelganger guitarist Brandon Fisher, who admittedly had his charms, but he was no Sideshow Tom. It was too bad that “Ready to Go,” his one lead vocal contribution on the new record, was left off tonight’s set list.
Up until the day before the show the second opener was listed as Duvall, which actually made sense. The project that the Smoking Popes leader Josh Caterer started after God found him probably appeal to the same crowd as John Davis’s solo material does. Instead the likeable but generic Van Ghost filled the spot. Nicholas Tremulis was a name I associated with Chicago with his yearly fundraiser The Waltz, held at the Metro, and from associations with Alejandro Escovedo and Robbie Fulks, though I had never seen him. He certainly was not what I expected. The large man in a leather coat and a silly hat was far from the image I had of an orchestra leader. And as for his orchestra, there wasn’t a violin or oboe to be found. As with Van Ghost, it was all perfectly fine, but in the end they were just standing between me and Superdrag.
Nicholas Tremulis Orchestra
Van Ghost
Superdrag
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