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Monday, November 11, 2002

Who Needs Sleep?

Neumu's Steve Gozdecki writes: Depending on where you live, where you are in life, whether the bands you're into tour, and a host of other factors, you may catch live music weekly, monthly, or just a few times per year. Myself, I probably make it out to catch a band once a month. Which made last week special, and a bit draining — with both Radio 4 and The Pattern headlining weeknight shows at Chicago's Empty Bottle.

Monday night featured a triple bill of Hot Hot Heat, VHS or Beta, and Radio 4. I was there to see Radio 4, but went in with an open mind since I was unable to coax any of my friends into attending and wouldn't have anything to do except listen to the bands. So I gulped down an energy drink (these late shows are tough on us 9-to-5ers), found rock-star-caliber parking right near the Bottle and staked out a good spot inside, near a ledge (which made note-taking easier).

Hot Hot Heat singer Steve Bays began his band's set by apologizing in advance for their low energy level, explaining that they'd done some mammoth drives the past few days and gotten little sleep. It certainly didn't show, with the Canadian band pushing out their funky, new wave-tinged music with youthful exuberance. While Bays' voice is often compared to The Cure's Robert Smith, live he's more like an unlikely combination of Rage Against the Machine's Zach de la Rocha and The Strokes' Julian Casablancas — physically and vocally. Hot Hot Heat were definitely entertaining, and while I'm not yet a fan I think they could evolve into a very good band. But then they've just signed with a major label, so who knows what they'll sound like a year from now after the A&R and marketing folks get done with them. (For more on Hot Hot Heat, see the recent Neumu news story "Manic 'New Wave' From Hot Hot Heat.")

Where the evening started promisingly, things took a sudden swan dive when VHS or Beta took the stage. A few of the notes I made during their set: "Vocoders really suck." "New Order's 'Blue Monday' with disco bass and Robert Fripp and Al Di Meola on guitar — not a good thing." "These loud synth drums are making my 'nads hurt." Some people in the very young crowd danced throughout the band's set, but I suspect I'm not alone in thinking that VHS or Beta do what they do well, while questioning why anyone would want to do it.

After enduring 40 minutes of VHS or Beta, the music of Brooklyn-based Radio 4 was a godsend. Opening their set with the retro new wave of "Our Town" (love that icy keyboard riff!), Radio 4 proceeded to play most of their excellent Gotham! album, flawlessly executing everything from the Talking Heads-esque funk of "Speaking in Codes" to the Mick-Jones-fronting-Joy-Division sound of "Save Your City." Even when reduced to sloganeering, as on "Calling All Enthusiasts," Radio 4 bring such a sense of fun to their earnest, politicized rock that they transcend their influences to create something great. A dozen or so songs and the band was off, reminding us all to get the vote out the next day, leaving me with an energized buzz.

While I was driving home afterwards, the one palatable local commercial rock station was giving away copies of the new Sigur Rós album to callers number 6 through 10 on a late-night alternative radio show. I punched the number into my cell phone, then paused before sending in hopes of not calling in too early. No such luck; I was caller number three. Continuous redialing resulted in my getting through again as caller number 11 just as I was pulling up to my garage. I shrugged, still tingly from Radio 4's performance, parked, entered my chilly flat and went to sleep, ears ringing, warmed by the music.

Then came a full workday and a rainy Election Tuesday night, on which I finished writing an album review for Neumu and then helplessly and hopelessly watched the Republicans take over Congress and set the stage for...well, things I'm probably not going to be all that happy about. Which made me eager for some temporary escape through the sounds of The Pattern the next night.

We arrived early for Wednesday night's show, allowing time for a few cheap beers and plenty of chitchat and watching of the crowd, which averaged much closer to my own 32 years than the Radio 4 gig did. My friends and I talked a bit about the elections, about other shows we'd seen over the years at the Empty Bottle, how hard it is to keep up with new music while juggling families, relationships and careers, and even about how we hoped the show didn't go too late since we all had to work in the morning.

Har Mar Superstar began the two-act bill in semi-entertaining fashion. The alter ego of Sean Na Na's Sean Tillmann, the Superstar crooned humorous R&B songs to computerized accompaniment, keeping the focus strongly on the man/product himself. Resembling a shorter, pudgier version of '60s icon Tiny Tim, Tillmann disrobed throughout his set, ultimately getting a few brave audience members to slip dollar bills into the waistband of his jockey shorts, which mercifully stayed on. The shtick wore thin rather quickly, though a set-ending cover of Stevie Wonder's "Sir Duke" proved to be pretty good.

The upside of having Har Mar Superstar as an opening act is that your band's setup time is pretty swift, which brought The Pattern onstage rather quickly. Mixing songs from last year's Immediately EP with their recent full length Real Feelness, The Pattern's timeless garage-punk sound moves me in a way that few of their contemporaries do. Nasal-voiced singer Christopher Appelgren was less twitchy than usual. Jason Rosenberg's crunchy rhythm work on his Les Paul reinforced my belief that nothing sounds as good as a loud Gibson, while guitarist Andy Asp added some tasty guitar riffs and topnotch backing vocals. Looming high over his low-slung kit, drummer Scott Batiste established the tempo and added some quick fills while bassist Carson Bell kept a steady pulse on his Rickenbacker. While they're not the kind of band likely to change your life, songs like "Selling Submarines," "She's a Libra" and "Last Night Called" make you feel especially glad to be alive. (Check out this recent news profile on The Pattern, "That Punk/Garage/Rock/R&B Band Known as The Pattern.")

The ride home featured a flashback to my youth when my bud Jeff and I, with barely 10 bucks between us, stopped at one of Bucktown's 24-hour Mexican restaurants for burritos. I got home at 1:30 a.m., slept like a rock, and left for work barely six hours later, not tired in the least, energized by two nights of great music.

The InsiderOne Daily Report appears on occasion.




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