I admit I knew what to expect when I walked into Thalia Hall for Wilson Phillips' concert on March 19—lots of gray hair and an abundance of dewy-eyed romantic couples, gay and straight, joined at the hips. I also expected a disturbingly misguided level of nostalgia from both the audience and the star attraction because, well, 1990 was a full generation ago and time has a habit of obscuring the fact that things weren't so hot then either ( "the good old days?" ).
Now that Chynna Phillips and best pals Wendy and Carnie Wilson are teetering on the rim of middle age, the idea of romancing the past and their stunning debut ( Wilson Phillips, on SBK Records, 1990, which was recorded when they were 20 years old ) threatened a pervasive "ick" factor. Granted, that debut sold more than 10 million copies, spawned five hit singles ( three of which got to number one ), smashed long-standing records and snatched awards by the armful.
I was not wrong in assuming any of that—but, despite my cynicism and a certain predictability, the show was, well, a blast.
The pre-concert overture was a prelude as to what this show was about: Frank Sinatra, Nat "King" Cole, Tony Bennett and Dean Martin serenaded the fortysomething crowd and set an atmosphere of fond remembrance. Once Wendy, Carnie and Chynna got onstage and stopped cracking each other up like lifelong girlfriends, they set a template and refused to budge from it.
This version of Wilson Phillips was something of a cover band, albeit with a slant toward California pop of the 1960s and '70s, and the legacy of their famous parents. ( The Wilsons are the daughters of The Beach Boys' Brian Wilson and The Honeys' Marilyn Rovell, while Chynna's parents made up half of The Mamas and The Papas. ) There's nothing wrong with any of that except that the show left little room for invention, musical spontaneity or surprise. Of course, this audience came for the memories and to hear those legendary harmonies, and they were not disappointed.
Naturally, the hits were all here ( "You Won't See Me Cry," "You're In Love," "Release Me," "The Dream is Still Alive" and "Hold On" ), and the expected covers ( a shimmering "California Dreaming," a gentle "In My Room," a willowy "God Only Knows" ). However, even the surprises weren't really that surprising ( a skittering take on The Eagles' "Already Gone," a surprisingly hard-pounding version of The Electric Light Orchestra's "Don't Bring Me Down" ). The biggest hit of the night was a pile up onstage of audience members for a full-throated rip through ABBA's "Dancing Queen." ( Carnie's call out for "ladies and queens" to join them onstage was a nice acknowledgement of the many gay men in attendance. )
I suppose it isn't really fair to say that the show was packaged, predictable middle-of-the-road entertainment because that implies a degree of insincerity, and Wilson Phillips was anything but insincere. My disappointment is that with their award-winning harmonies and links to California and the 60s, that they played it a little too safe. Hearing them take a stab at Brian Wilson's obscure "The Farmer's Daughter," The Everly Brothers' "All I have to Do is Dream," The Kinks' "I Go to Sleep," or something as scary as Roy Orbison's haunting "She's A Mystery" would have allowed the act to reach the level of the vocalists on their pre-concert tape.
If Wilson Phillips seemed timid in taking chances with their million-dollar formula, Chicago's DIY garage punkers Ne Hi have managed to bet the farm on their sophomore full-length, Offers ( on Grand Jury Music ). This time out, they've taken all that hardcore abrasion and refashioned it into infectious crunchy guitar driven pop and the distance between the debut ( Ne Hi on Manic Static Records ) and Offers is jaw-dropping. The experimentation is really a heads-up on what Ne Hi ( Mickey Wells on guitar and vocals, Alex Otake on drums, Jason Balla on vocals and guitar, and James Weir on bass ) is really about which may strike some as confounding. Offers feels like a Rubix Cube that fights back, reconfiguring itself the second you think you've got it figured out.
Front and center are Balla's big fat guitar chords and on most of the songs that sound serves as the spine that holds everything together. Atop that are the pleasantly murky mix as well as a pronounced and rather endearing sonic scrappiness that gives the recording a home made feel. The result is a highly enjoyable combination of pop, art and alternative rock, smothered in dust.
The hook on "Buried On the Moon" is so pronounced that it nearly swallows Well's vocals but the mix of the two make form an oddly compelling combination. "Drag," with that ringing guitar, is decidedly un-pretty pop but catchy as anything, while the ghostly and elegant "Everybody Warned You" is like a big ballad from another galaxy. Offers closes with the swirling, epic "Stay Young," and the song feels strangely jubilant and optimistic. Clearly, this is not your mama's pop music.
If Offers shows Ne Hi delighting in the joys of cushy pop, their CD release show at The Empty Bottle on Feb. 24 embraced garage and punk with equal fury. With banks of television monitors flashing behind them and a high tech light show going full blast ( all of which clashed with The Bottles low rent décor ) the trio of Balla, Weir, and Wells tore through much of Offers like the fate of the planet was at stake. Balla swinging his guitar like a whip had the habit of flinging himself about in a way that made him look like his spine were made out of elastic. With Otake pounding away and Weir and Wells attacking the music with what could not be called a degree of restraint, Ne Hi turned Offers into a stunning, thunderous epic. With this sold-out show coming one day before Meat Wave's equally bonkers CD release show at the same venue ( see the March 22 Bent Nights ), Chicago is turning into an incubator for breakout talent.
Heads up: Queer piano man Mike Maimone and his band, Mutts, will be playing The Burlington Tap in celebration of the release of their new single, "Tinfoil Hat." Tickets are still available for Perfume Genius, which will hit Lincoln Hall on May 25.
