Riot Fest 2012 recap: Part one

By Gene Wagendorf III

Andrew W.K. | Photo Credit: Eric Kolkey

Riot Fest got a new look this year, abandoning its week-long series of shows across the city format for that of a more traditional music festival. Things got going Friday night at The Congress Theater with a show headlined by Neon Trees and The Offspring, but the festival proper played out across two days in the absolutely gorgeous Humboldt Park. Carnival rides and games were sprinkled between four stages, with music going non-stop from about noon to ten. While the festival maintained its usual focus on punk and varying subgenres, the promoters did toss in (mostly seamlessly) enough non-punk acts to keep the show from feeling stale. My two big casualties-of-scheduling on Saturday were Nobunny and GWAR, not because something tantalizing was playing opposite them, but because I have a crappy corporate day job that I couldn't escape from in time. #ReviewFail, I know. I arrived at Humboldt Park with enough time to down a few beers before Andrew W.K., and in that short time on the ground I heard nothing but buzz about GWAR. Half the crowd seemed to be covered in fake blood from their set, and most of those people were still red on Sunday. If you want to know how that set went, odds are there are still some crimson-coated lunatics wandering around Chicago. Ask them.

Andrew W.K.

Partying. Period. This is what Mr. W.K. is all about. He sings about it. He lives it. I've heard his music at parties. I've been to Andrew W.K.-themed parties. My reaction has always been, "OK, I get it. Let's move on." That said, I couldn't help myself. I had to see it.

The set blasted off with the cocaine thrash of "It's Time to Party," from 2001's I Get Wet. The track's mindless, pachyderm chug was a microcosm of the the next 45 minutes; kind of fun, kind of stupid and totally baffling. This is what adrenaline sounds like, no doubt, but I'm not sure simply creating the sound of wanting to drink beer 'til you vomit is a worthy endeavor. It's been done, and frankly, it's been done better. What would it sound like if I smashed "Pour Some Sugar On Me" into "Too Drunk To Fuck" is a weird pitch for a song, let alone a career. That Andrew W.K. has been cashing in on that auditory nihilism for 10+ is astonishing. That he managed to sound pretty good doing it is a miracle.

Eight ball vocals boomed from the speakers, distorted guitars slammed into eardrums and the mosh pit churned. My inner Rob Gordon chastised me the whole time I bobbed along, but I simply couldn't help myself. Beneath the layers of sloppy guitar and Neanderthal-meets-Dionysus lyrics, the songs were catchy. When the singer dedicated "She Is Beautiful" to all the ladies in the crowd, my stomach turned. It's pure objectification. My tapping feet didn't seem to care. When he produced a pizza-shaped guitar and zipped out semi-indulgent, ultimately uninteresting solo, I laughed at the absurdity. Or maybe, more accurately, along with it. I simply can't tell if there was any irony in what I saw during W.K.'s set, and that proved to be it's ultimate downfall. As a performance piece, the spectacle was totally fulfilling and perfectly hilarious. Problem is, it all looked sincere. I think this guy actually believes that partying is THE answer. That his music "fuken rulez" and that he's never going to age. In looking for a comparable immortal, I turned to Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. Quoth Wikipedia, "The fictional Everlasting Gobstopper is a candy that not only can never be finished, but never even gets smaller." That is to say it'll be around long after its rotted the teeth right out of your mouth. The sweetest candy coating can only disguise the truth for so long. In another lifetime, Andrew W.K. might've stuck to the keys and made a truly thrilling record. He could've been the second coming of The Killer. The treat I wound up enjoying at Riot Fest amounted to little more than a guilty pleasure, and I'm not sure I'll be looking for seconds.

Show review & photos: Dropkick Murphys at Congress Theater, 2/26

By Mike Sullivan

"Lets go Mur-phys…Lets go Mur-phys…Lets go Mur-phys…"

This was the crowd's chant at the Congress Theater Saturday night when Boston’s Dropkick Murphys made their their annual Chicago stop on their tour promoting upcoming album Going Out In Style, out March 1st.

Being a Southside Irish lad, I look forward to the month of March for some great Irish traditions; be it parades, enjoying some authentic Irish food, watching some Irish dancing, listening to the Chicago Fire Department Pipes and Drums, or even getting rowdy to some Celtic punk music. This year, the Dropkick Murphys helped to kick off March’s traditions a few days early.

The band have gained popularity over the past few years with tracks appearing in Martin Scorsese’s academy award winning film "The Departed", and you always hear a clip of "Shipping Up to Boston" at some type of sporting or another. Even so, their trueness to their sound and their love for the blue collar, hard working American haven't changed.

They started the night out with one of their new songs, "Hang ‘em High," which definitely set the tone for what was to come. After that, they dove quickly into "The Fighting 69th" and "Barroom Hero." The at-capacity crowd swayed back and forth like a churning sea while shirtless bodies were being tossed above to ride the adrenaline-filled waves. The band continued to rip through track after track with little hesitation in between to keep the now beer-soaked crowd amped up. They played material off each of their seven albums, saving some of the fan favorites for the end. A large pirate flag rolled down as a backdrop as "Shipping Up to Boston" closed the main set. You could tell the crowd was hungry for this song as the hall exploded with the first notes played on Tim Brennan’s accordion.

After a short break the band came back to finish the night just like it started, at full throttle. They played the macho tongue-in cheek song "Kiss Me I’m Shitfaced" with a stage full of women to help sing along, followed by "Skinhead on the MBTA," then closed the night with one of the union workers' favorites, "Boys on the Docks."

Many bands lose something when their music is transferred to a live performance; they either miss some oomph or sound exactly like they do on their studio albums, with little heart and soul poured into the show. The Dropkick Murphys do just the opposite. They bring a completely new experience to their performances, which makes the show turn into more of a party with your best friends than your average concert outing. Now I'm ready to kick off a long month of Irish festivities.