Pictured Caila Lipovsky of Apartment. Photo by Hester Three Dollar Bill and Apartment, Double Door
Three Dollar Bill, Chicago's most cerebral and punked-out queer quartet, always pulled the hat trick of being charming and subversive without breaking a sweat. Now after a year's hiatus they're back with a new rhythm section (Gerra Bosco on bass and the smokey-eyed lady Chip on skins), a higher profile (they headlined at the Double Door), and a clutch of new tunes. At the close of their CD Insurrection, frontman Chris Piss wailed, 'I'm your fairy godmother ... all your dreams will come true ... if you just follow me ... .' This new version of $3 Bill still won't tell you where they're going, but the Nov. 18 gig affirmed that it's not necessarily a location but a state of mind.
Opening with the start-stop 'Never Stop,' Piss and co-frontwoman Jane Darling led the band through old favorites ('American Dream') and newer unfamiliar turf. 'Jesus is Crying' with its coyote howl in the intro was noise-whipped into jarring pop. 'Commercial,' with its socialist/populist suggestion, was more of the same. But this isn't to say that $3 Bill ever gets monotonous; their style is ringing guitars, call-and-response choruses, nervy lead vocals, and a propulsive back end. But with Bosco and Chip behind them, the band has become even more cerebral/ punked to the point of contradiction.
Piss, the coolest non-dancing punk on the planet, has gotten even more adorable, eyeliner and furry hat with cat ears notwithstanding. Darling, this time looking butch and tomboyish while slashing out power chords, gave him a run for the money. But that's the fun of them; Darling and Piss are so naturally engaging that it can't possibly be an act. Bosco on the other hand was something else entirely. Dressed in a floor-length zebra-skin cape and fatigues with a tuft of purple fur protruding from her fly (!), she bopped about without a care in the world. And if you couldn't really see all of Chip in the drumkit, you could see the parts that left a lasting impression; the blur of her sticks as she pounded away, and her cool glare.
But if $3 Bill was gearing up, Apartment was changing gears of another stripe. A genuinely off-kilter sextet of acid jazz, art rock, and aimless theater, Apartment has always been fun because they played with reality on a skewed level. Through madwoman/vocalist Caila Lipovsky, you couldn't tell whether any of it was a joke. Though this was C.L.'s last show with the band—she will be devoting more energy to theater—this gig didn't clear any of that up.
Though this gig was a touch more subtle than others I've seen by Apartment (no running around shrieking in the audience, no baby dolls used as props), it was still unique if not mesmerizing. At once shrieking demands and observations at the audience, then flinging her body into a spineless watusi with her tongue hanging out, C.L. grabs $3 Bill's notion of cerebral and runs smack into the Twilight Zone. Whether defending her mama's cooking or verbally assaulting a romantic rival, her rants are grounded in logic but served with a double twist of dementia. As a result, Apartment is subversive, heady, and nuts all right, but not in an obvious way. C.L.'s 'madness' is off putting because it's not about the obvious, like some squealy thing running around in her panties or her brain. In her case a cure is out of the question. 'The Girl's not Right' indeed ... .
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