Pere Ubu | Theater Critic's Choice | Chicago Reader

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Pere Ubu's bizarre pop odyssey, now in progress for more than 15 years, continues on their new album Story of My Life. It's been fascinating to watch this unsightly, off-kilter ensemble retain its art-rock street cred even as it has slowly learned to make radio- and listener-friendly records. At the same time the world itself has graciously sidled over to meet it: Pere Ubu doesn't sound weird on the radio anymore. But the creations of the group--now reduced to a core of four, with David Thomas still functioning splendidly as front man--remain fresh, and novel as well. More than anything else, the band's voice has changed, evolving from disturbing rants out of a twisted psyche to something a little bit more palatable: kvetchings from the interesting nut next door, perhaps. On the new record the band essays surf music ("Honey Moon"), stately pop ("Kathleen"), and, once or twice, a dramatic rock 'n' roll moment ("Wasted") that knocks you off your feet. Orangutang and Bone Club open. Friday, 7 PM, Metro, 3730 N. Clark; 549-0203.

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

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