OK Go @ the Double Door-4/23
Chicago-to-L.A. transplants OK Go are positively dreamy. Never mind the 70's-era Carnaby St. duds or the songs crammed with crushing wit. ( On the sophomore CD Oh No, the first words out of vocalist Damian Kulash Jr.'s mouth are, "When they finally come to destroy the earth they'll have to deal with you first ... bet they won't be expecting that." ) And don't mind that treadmill video for "Here It Goes Again" that's now the most viewed clip on the planet. ( Admit it; it's goofy, cool, intoxicating, cartoonish, brilliant, and redefines pop art all for a budget of $5. Damn straight they deserved that Grammy, but what would Andy Warhol think? ) Or that the four of them have that bohemian-Damen-and-Milwaukee-scruffy-ramen-scented-vibe-sexy-thing going on. Nope, it's none of those single things but all of those things at once.
It's up front in Kulash's voice. He's got the "freshly f*cked" rolled in the sheets Sunday-morning breathless white-boy tone that's reminiscent of Marc Bolan without the drugged haze and the charming snark of a young Ray Davies before the cynicism turned to piss. If the treadmill video broke the band it's got nothing to do with them and everything to do with the sorry state of the music biz. Sorry, but "Here It Goes Again" is a perfect pop gem; giggly, snappy, careening and irresistible. Seeing them on a video screen or live is much too much; when Kulash opens his mouth I swear sunshine comes pouring out and the rest of the band ( Tim Nordwind on bass, Dan Konopka on tom-toms, and Andy Ross on guitar ) has muscle, drive, charm and nerdy sex appeal in spades.
After a three-year absence they were back at the D.D. previewing songs from an upcoming CD and—ya gotta love this—spending there one off day giving away burritos to the homeless. So what was the big deal, you say? As part of a current crop of Chicago artists who have touched the world, they are a big deal ( Do the names Jennifer Hudson, Common, Andrew Bird, Marty Casy, Lupe Fiasco, Mike Shannon, the Plain White T's or Twista ring any bells? ) , and the screaming hordes at this SRO gig let them know it. Dressed in corporate funeral drag—the influence of Mr. M. Stipe, no doubt—OK Go dropped the "poppy" and "cuddly" for a hard-rocking ferociousness laced with plenty of winks at the audience. "Here It Goes Again" had a harder personality while "Do What You Want," "Invincible," "Don't Ask Me How I Am," and "A Million Ways" got surprisingly muscular workouts. New songs "White Knuckles" and "Skyscraper" were punchy appetizers for what's coming in the future.
As for Kulash ... well, he was so into it that he must have pulled a muscle from smiling so hard. Cracking wise about gentrification ( he called it "gayborhood"-ing ) and actually living across the street from the D.D a decade ago ( "...I probably couldn't afford it now." ) and flinging his skinny self into the crowd, he was all bounce and mild sarcasm. Amidst torrents of confetti ( and I'm not kidding, either, thanks to an air cannon that provided the paper quotient of a Macy's T-Day parade ) , sections of serious amusements ( one new song was performed with just an assortment of bells ) , and all that nerdy appeal one can only hope that they'll be back here in less than three years. Sigh...
Will Hoge @ Schuba's-4/14
When I last saw him back in 2006, Will Hoge was fronting a rowdy Tennessee rock band in front of a rowdy bunch of Lincoln Parkers at a streetfest. Being that I was in the midst of another romantic break-up I should have known better than to put myself in front of Hoge on a live stage. Smack in the center of all the hoo-ha and spilled beer, he tore into "Doesn't Have to Be That Way" with its imagery of misery pouring "over the walls ... and I'm drowning in it, can't ya' see?" and how "You can't stop something that's this far gone." I immediately felt like complicated shit but, after all, Hoge does messy heartbreak really really well.
Three years later, he and I both have been through the "tumble and twirl." After listening to his "Better Off Now ( That You're Gone ) ," doing what needed to be done about that exboyfriend ( don't ask—he'll never tell ) , I'm now happy, unattached, not caring about it and uncomplicated ( a well-adjusted, content homo?—how DULL!!! ) but for Hoge it's another story. Seduced and dumped by Warner Bros. Records—who didn't know what to do with him ( too rock-raw for country radio, too twangy-raw for rock radio ) —and creamed in a motorcycle accident last August, it was a wonder that he got to Schubas for this SRO show at all.
It's crap to say that misery fuels great music but Hoge, propped in a chair and fronting a passionate but careful southern band, delivered an altogether different kind of epic show. Where he used to shake it with a fury and strike intentionally goofy poses like a jolly preening Springsteen with a megawatt smile ( I still can't believe this man chews gum when he sings ) , this set was on an entirely transcendent level; Hoge's power came entirely from the neck up.
In several earlier columns I've said that Hoge's songs are loaded with worn cliches ( broken/lost dreams, epic heartbreak to rival the Gibbs brother's melodramatics, an equation of bar culture as hell ) but when he opens his mouth whatever pops out is beside the point; I can't deny the man's juju. Standing up, sitting down, loud and brittle, low and damp—I can't put my finger on it. Hoge looks like any guy on the street; definitely not a raving babe-dude ( more James McAvoy than Brad Pitt—and thank God for that! ) and he doesn't have the complicated romanticism of a Leonard Cohen or the lyrically convoluted sweetness of a smitten Bob Dylan. But he does have simplicity, emotional and dramatic bluntness, uncomplicated punch and, well, juju.
Without his three-alarm physicality Hoge just got raw, ragged, personal, and deep. "She Don't Care About Me," "It's A Shame," "Behind the Curtain," "Doesn't Have to Be That Way" ( which forced me to appreciate being single all over again ) , the loudly requested "Baby Girl" and "Carousel" all got reworked—not by way of arrangements but through a pronounced new weightiness. Could it get better any than this? Not humanly possible. With a new album half-done and this personal show designed to allow Hoge to do what he loves ( sing-play-perform his heart out ) and mend, here's hoping he gets back here soon.
