THE VOICE OF CHICAGO'S GAY, LESBIAN, BI, TRANS AND QUEER COMMUNITY SINCE 1985

On North Carolina's Highway 57, between Smyrna and Frog Level, you'll find the Double Cupp Diner. This eatery, named for its free first refill, is flanked by a gas station/repair shop. The grease jockeys of this lonely roadside rest stop don't do a lot of business, and, after the breakfast rush, neither do the proprietresses of the Double Cupp. So it comes as no surprise that they have plenty of time to make music.

As might be expected of troubadours from the 99-percent demographic, many are songs of longing. The gallant L.M. recalls a chaste encounter with the queen of country music in "The Night Dolly Parton Was Almost Mine;" romantic Prudie croons a wistful hymn to "The Best Man I Never Had;" and baby-faced Jackson extolls the charms of "Mona," the checkout clerk at the Frog Valley Mall, even as practical Rhetta lays down an ultimatum to a neglectful suitor in "Be Good or Be Gone." Their subjects sometimes encompass hardships associated with their ground-level jobs ("No lip—just tips!" Prudie and Rhetta exhort their customers), but mostly they celebrate the pleasures available to humble Americans who wear their names embroidered above their heart pockets.

Available to us are the pleasures of celebrating with them in the No Exit Cabaret, its decor converted (with minimal alterations) to reflect 20th-century rural chic. Musical director Jim DeSelm coaxes Jerry Lee-style solo-turns from the keyboards; Alex Stage and Cory Siragusa waltz their mighty stringed instruments around the floor with nimble-fingered grace; Courtney Crouse keeps the patter coming; and Christina Smith and Danni Hall supply treble vocals and kitchen-utensil percussion.

They also wait tables with cheerful alacrity—another feature of the Theo Ubique package is a wholesome supper invoking nostalgic memories for city dwellers. Playgoers who like their rockabilly loud have Million Dollar Quartet at the Apollo, and for them who like their honkers raunchy, there's the Doyle and Debbie Show at the Royal George, but if your tastes run to gentle fare, accompanied with enough friendly smiles and winks to persuade you that a motel room (with cable TV) isn't a right cozy way to spend a rainy day with someone special, then you'll want to take yourself out to this little ol' café on Glenwood Avenue.