The Mooney Suzuki preview

The Mooney Suzuki
Subterranean, Chicago
Wednesday, July 4, 2007

It’d be a better world if we all took the tired-ass advice of ESPN anchor Stuart Scott, who is fond of saying “Don’t hate the player, hate the game.” Still, it’s hard to dredge up the kind of sympathy for The Mooney Suzuki we afford most major-label losers (Spoon, Nada Surf) because The Moonies went for the gold so brazenly and failed so spectacularly.

Though few people noticed them outside of an umbrella of Spin magazine’s readership, no American garage rock revival band was trying as hard as this New York outfit. The album they were pushing at the time, Electric Sweat, sported a bright-orange cover and a lead single borrowing heavily from “Kick Out The Jams.” They dressed like the Ramones, and frontman Sammy James Jr. took to climbing speakers and lighting rigs in concert. Indie rockers begrudged them respect because of their name (a synthesis of Can’s founders) and they were one of the few biker/bike messenger acts they could stand.

But the group immediately tested the resolve of everyone by signing with Columbia and teaming with The Matrix, the songwriting team behind Avril Lavigne, Hilary Duff, and the remodeled Liz Phair. The resultant album, Alive & Amplified, fit the description “mitigated disaster” and The Moonies were dumped by Columbia. They tried to regain momentum with V2, but V2 closed shop. Soon all that was left of the band was James Jr.

At least he still has a sense of humor. Following an EP, James returns to us with his (band’s) fourth album, appropriately titled Have Mercy (Elixia). The tone is decidedly less all-a-fuckin’-bout-it and downright insightful when James croons “First comes love/then comes complications,” which could be about any of his recent difficulties. Yet for being so subdued Mercy is all over the place. “Mercy Me” draws cards from Spoon’s deck, while “Adam And Eve” is either Jethro Tull or The Doobie Brothers (or Ron Burgundy). The thundering chords and mock poses have been replaced with a kind of moping, post-’60s Kinks-ishness, frequently alluding to the chaos of the last four years (“Ashes,” “Down (But Not Out)”). The best spot is “Rock ‘N’ Roller Girl,” which sounds like James writing to himself.

The Dark Romantics and M.O.T.O. open.

— Steve Forstneger

Category: Stage Buzz, Weekly