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[Live & On Record]

SUPERCHUNK
TO SIT OR TO STAND

"This is kind of odd . . . ," mumbled one Superchunk fan to another while surveying the seated mass of motley indie-rockers waiting for the veteran Chapel Hill foursome to hit the stage a week ago Wednesday at the Somerville Theatre. And indeed it was a little odd, particularly if you happened to be a latecomer to the general-admission show. With most of the seats either occupied or draped with someone’s jacket, you could meander about the theater shouting "Is this seat taken?" over the sound of the Beach Boys and the Check One Twos on the PA system. Or you could resign yourself to spending the next hour or two in the standing-room-only section at the back of the theater, milling about uncomfortably while the band prepared to take the stage.

My friend Bob had discovered a third option: I found him milling about in front of the theater clutching a single-serving bottle of Jack Daniel’s, less to battle the cold than to fight off the sinking sensation that this was not your father’s Superchunk. Which is not to imply that the band, whose first CD came out in 1990, have been around long enough to be playing for the sons and daughters of their first fans (more like the little brothers and sisters of those first fans), only that 10 years ago — hell, even just five years ago — Superchunk were kinda, sorta considered a punk band, who played loud, fast, short, and bittersweet punk songs to sweaty crowds of standing punk-rock kids in your basic cigarette-and-beer-stained punk club, not in an auditorium smelling of popcorn.

Even guitarist Jim Wilbur seemed a bit perplexed by the sight of all the seated fans when the band took the stage around 10:30 p.m. "You can sit down for this first song because it’s kind of mellow," he finally decided, "but otherwise it’s kind of bullshit to be sitting down." And so the faithful more or less obeyed. As singer/guitarist Mac McCaughan did his best to rock out behind a bank of keyboards on the moody opener, "Late Century Dream," kids began filtering toward the front of the stage, so that by the start of the second song it was beginning to feel more like a punk-rock show, especially when bassist Laura Ballance, in shorts and a muscle shirt, bounced pogo-style to drummer Jon Wurster’s thrashing beats and McCaughan shouted to be heard above the melodic din.

Yet when, midway through the set, McCaughan and Wilbur donned acoustic guitars for a few more mellow tunes, the setting started to make more and more sense. After all, Superchunk have never been your average slam-bang punk band. There’s always been a level of post-graduate angst buoying their distorted guitars. And of late, their penchant for blending Moog synths into the mix has taken them to new sonic shores, where waves of prog-tinged arrangements wash over the rocky guitar-bass-drums foundation that has always been their calling card. So maybe the Somerville Theatre wasn’t such an odd place for the show after all.

BY MATT ASHARE

Issue Date: November 29 - December 6, 2001

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