Glass Candy and the Shattered Theatre | Theater Critic's Choice | Chicago Reader

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Glass Candy and the Shattered Theatre

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Can you really fault a band for being revivalist if its members aren't old enough to remember what they're reviving? Nostalgia for your own past is sad, but nostalgia for someone else's can be a lot of fun. Sure, Glass Candy and the Shattered Theatre are derivative of the postpunk death-disco scene of the early 80s, but they're not just playing dress-up in Siouxsie Sioux's and PiL's closets--they give off such a don't-give-a-flying-fuck vibe they're beyond retro, maybe just plain unhinged. These near Luddites are outspoken about their distaste for computers and modern technology in general; Johnny V, the former bassist who now plays no-frills glam-rock guitar, produced their live Smashed Candy EP (Vermin Scum) by synching up the tracks from four crappy tape recorders that had been placed in various corners of a club. His bass-ackward methodology produces weird delays that make the record sound cavernous and refreshingly confused. By the time hot-to-trot singer Ida No slinks onstage she sounds like she's already hollered herself hoarse--her voice ranges from Ethel Merman bray to bloody-murder shrill. And whether she comes out perfectly coiffed or decked out in electrical tape and fishnets, by the end of the show she's often half-naked. In three years they've gone through at least four drummers; they reportedly have a fourth member playing bass now. Not much changes from song to song--and there are still only about seven--but this sleazy formula is so yummy too much variance would be disappointing. Tuesday, October 29, 7 PM, Fireside Bowl, 2646 W. Fullerton; 773-486-2700.

Art accompanying story in printed newspaper (not available in this archive): photo/Virgil Porter.

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