Ian Svenonius should be content, or at least satisfied. The ex-Nation of Ulysses/Cupid Car Club/ Make-Up frontman has spent two decades prophesizing a messy collapse of the corporate music industry and the global economic system around it, doing his best to shepherd both along. Now that the monolith actually is teetering, he could settle into a position as K Records’ in-house doomsayer — a Mike Davis with better hair and a “Sassiest Boy in America” accolade. But he is not content. He is not satisfied. Bankers still have it easier than workers, masses still await liberation, and Ian Svenonius is still starting new bands, which is why Chain & The Gang dragged themselves to the Whippersnapper Gallery.
Their singer bounded onstage just after 11pm, wearing a natty white suit and jet-black slicked-up locks. The pastiche of recessionary anthems from Chain & The Gang’s new debut has parallels with The Make-Up’s mash-up of bubblegum, garage rock and socialist gospel, but Svenonius’ singular persona is the thread that connects all of his music. His charismatic barrage of radical rhetoric is both sincere and satirical, often at the same time. The set’s second song, “Reparations,” was a case in point: “People talk about reparations / Yeah, they do / People talk about reparations / Yeah, well, me too.”
Chain & The Gang’s album takes their work-gang conceit a little too far, prizing scanty arrangements and lo-fi recording over decent grooves. Live, however, their attempt at soul is far more convincing, and Svenonius quickly got the crowd bouncing along with him — he’s never believed that catchy tunes are counter-revolutionary. Most of his band was shared with the preceding Hive Dwellers (led by Calvin Johnso being Calvin Johnson), and each set acquitted them well — Sarah Pedal was especially great, matching Svenonius with cheerfully ridiculous boy/girl banter during songs like “Trash Talk.”
The frontman’s own yelps and howls oscillate between “teenage greaser” and “abused gimp” (not unlike Slim Twig, whose blues-punk duo Tropics opened first with a set of looped riffs and suitably menacing drum patterns). At times Svenonius would coax the audience towards him with tenderness only to shriek out “YEEEEAAAAHHH!” He’s the perfect leader: they loved it all. The Gang closed with “Deathbed Confession,” a conspiracist avowal over cheesy classic-rock chords that escalates into sublime absurdity (“I killed MLK for the CIA / And Malcolm X for the Federal Express…I stole Ray Charles’ eyes…”). Svenonius is still at the vanguard, wherever the hell that is.