With springtime in Chicago playing peekaboo, it came as a near-miracle that The Empty Bottle's third annual "Music Frozen Dancing" Winter Block Party landed on one of the warmest days of 2016.
In previous yearswhen the weather was less forgivingthe festival served as a quick cure for cabin fever, but now it has evolved into a social extravaganza for rambunctious folks of every generation. With the temperature stuck at a compassionate 40 degrees and with legendary punk outlaws The Black Lips as the headliner, this version, which took place Feb. 27, promised to turn into "Slam Dance A-Go-Go" in record time.
That did not quite happen until queer favorites Meat Wave hit the stage in the mid-afternoon for a set pegged to be the last for some time as they begin work on a new full length. Coming off of a breakout year that saw the release of its widely lauded third album Delusion Moon ( on SideOne Dummy Records ), a flood of intense media praise ( this reviewer called the CD the best of 2015 ), a seemingly non-stop touring schedule and a quick strut through Europe, the trio ( Ryan Wizniack, Chris Sutter, and Joe Gac ) previewed new music ( "Glass Teeth" ) while ripping through chunks of Delusion Moon. For a band this young with such a huge DIY ethic ( they all have day jobs ), it was a pleasant shock to see the members attack their now-worn music with a spring-fresh vigor. In fact, Meat Wave seems to be in the process of morphing into some sort of sweetly smiling blood thirsty beast.
Where Sutter still comes off as the John-Boy Walton of the Chicago DIY punk scene, his deceptively pleasant charm ( in my review of Delusion Moon I said, despite his innocent appearance, "the man can peel a shark with his voice..." ) has been absorbed by the band. Wizniack got so carried away beating the Holy crap out of his drums that, though it was still chilly out, he ripped off his sweaty shirt and played with nipples to the wind. Gac was even better, spending half of the set jumping up and down like a freaked rabbit while unwittingly inciting the crowd to do the same. By the time The Black Lips had gotten onstage with bodies gliding through the air "Music Frozen Dancing" had turned into a jolly free for all.
Granted, I got out of there quick since I had to get over to Schuba's for Mutt's sold out blow out later in the evening, and I wanted to be prepared. With out front man Mike Maimone in front of his partners-in-crime ( Bob Buckstaff on bass and Chris Pagnani on drums ), I could only expect the unexpected. Having seen Maimone at his residency at the High Hat Club last year, I knew enough this time out that though he is gifted as an artist, he is also hilariously feral. Clearly, this was not going to be "just another Saturday night" and no doubt there were surprises in store.
First off the bat was a relatively smooth, articulate set of winsome pop by The SAYERS that set me on edge. The band is precise and plays with a laid back cadence while front man Eric Michaels has the look of a low-key heartbreaker. The gig was up when Maimone popped onstage for a ragged, clunky duet of the Bowie/Queen classic "Under Pressure." Ignoring any attempt to duplicate the precision or clarity of the original, they went for the feel of the lyrics. This was an "Under Pressure" for the everyday man, a decidedly blue collar version that was instantly embraceable and disturbing.
The next surprise came when The Blue Ribbon Glee Club jumped onstage and ran through a set of sweetly goofy songs like "Teenage Kicks." What made the set and the 15-member group so damn funny was that "Up Up with People" cheer that they doused the nearly juiced overflow crowd with.
Clearly delighted to be with his mates and on the stage at Schuba's, Maimone opened his set with an achingly delicate "Never Lonely Again" which was so affecting that it hushed the room in an instant. That the song and "Everyone is Everyone" were accompanied by the Glee Club certainly did not hurt, but once the band dug into "Shake It Up," the evening started to make more sense. Equal parts boogie-woogie, ragtime, and rock, Mutts ( and Maimone in particular ) seem to delight in creating songs which fuse early 20th-century musical genres with a heaping helping of sloppy grunge.
"Where my breeders at?" Maimone cracked before he and the band jumped into "Breed" and a particularly touching "Stand Your Ground." By the time they got close to the finish with a frolicsome "Stuck On Me" and a hard-bopping version of "If It's Hot, It'll Sell" the band had been filled out with a two-man horn section ( The High Hat Second Line ) and the suggestion that all hell was about to break loose. All hell did break loose once Mutts, the horn section, and the glee club closed the show with an encore of "Come On Up to the House." By that time, Maimone had gotten from behind his keyboard and seemed to be gesturing and preaching to a congregation that craved salvation. It was clearly a magic moment; spontaneous, goofy, emotional and appropriate, and it revealed that Mutts don't play in front of Chicago audiences nearly enough.