Everyone’s favorite Chicago music critic weighed in on the hometown heroes’  return to the Windy City at the Chicago Theatre today. Wait, which…what? Who? Oh, those hometown heroes.

Mr. Derogatis wrapped up his review with the following:

It was hard to avoid thinking of another group of locals that played the same venue recently, and the contrast was striking: The Smashing Pumpkins acted as if they were still the most successful band in Chicago, if not all of rock. Fall Out Boy actually is, but the musicians acted grateful just to be onstage and having so much fun, and
 they were the better band for it.

Qualifying this statement in that I don’t care for Fall Out Boy one bit, and do I think they’ll even be around in 20 years to celebrate an anniversary? Heck no, Pete Wentz will be up to his arms in Bronx Mowgli’s teen Hollywood hoodwinks on the Hills reunion by then. But while I didn’t see the show last night (seeing a much better Juliana Hatfield and a typically spastic set from my roommate at Double Door), I have no reason to dispute the veracity of the statement above.

Photo courtesy of suntimes.com. (Love the guyliner, Petey).

While other Chicago music writers (including friend and rival Greg Kot at the Chicago Tribune) have weighed in this morning with first-night reviews ranging from negative to worshipful, Jim DeRogatis has clearly been the most interested of the bunch in the return of the Smashing Pumpkins — and with a followup blog post this morning, he’s the most interesting as well.

The veteran analyst dives in where others have feared or failed to tread, putting out perhaps the most plausible explanation of this tour that anyone (fan or critic) has yet offered. His entire post is a must-read, but here is the center of it:

[M]y guess is that night one links up with night two (”White Crosses”) to form a two-part story arc tracing, I dunno, his band’s journey from hard-rocking, optimistic early days (it all began with “Everybody Clap Your Hands,” remember, and “Siva” came early on, too) through painful darkness and turbulent destruction (”Superchrist”/”United States”) to his beloved band being reduced to a mere automated facsimile of a superstar rock group (”Heavy Metal Machine”). As a result, the musicians turn bitter and angry and decide to punish their fans with the most extreme noise and tweeness they can deliver (”Set the Controls,” followed by the kazoos).

Then things move toward the white light again (”White Crosses”) and the artistes find their spiritual center and Pumpkins Mach II prevail at the end of night two. Or something like that.

Why, if almost everyone has hated this tortured routine on earlier tour stops, does Corgan persist with it? The man has never been anything less than 100-percent committed (and some say that he should BE committed) to his grand conceptual conceits, even when no one understands or likes them.

In this edition of the intermittent HU feature, Springfield (Mass.) Republican music writer Donnie Moorhouse does battle with Chicago Sun-Times mainstay Jim DeRogatis over the Smashing Pumpkins’ controversial cover.

Moorhouse, on Sunday night’s performance in Connecticut:

The stretch of “Zero,” “Bodies,” and “Cherub Rock,” almost saved the evening, but Corgan put an exclamation point on the madness with a 25-minute encore of Pink Floyd’s “Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun,” that included a kettle drum performance that was one bucket of paint away from being a Blue Man Group parody.

DeRogatis, regarding Tuesday night in Chicago:

On the bright side, the mid-evening acoustic interlude was lovely, and for progressive rock done right, you had to love the cover of Pink Floyd’s “Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun,” which closed the set proper.

Chicago Sun-Times rock critic Jim DeRogatis has this evening reposted to his blog several of his past writings regarding the Smashing Pumpkins. This segment of an April 2000 exchange (just prior to two shows in Chicago) with frontman Billy Corgan seems particularly relevant to the current moment:

[DeRogatis]. Do you feel that you’ve matured?

[Corgan]. Oh, I don’t know. Just when I would think I wouldn’t write about personal stuff anymore, I would turn around and a write a whole album about it. As I’ve always said, if I could have chosen what I wanted to do, I wouldn’t have chosen these things.

[DeRogatis]. There’s that perverse streak. Do you enjoy confounding expectations?

[Corgan]. I enjoy the energy in that. I don’t find comfort energizing. Inside, there must be some sort of thing in me that needs to be contentious.

Chicago Sun-Times music critic Jim DeRogatis blogs today:

Tickets for the four reconstituted Pumpkins shows in November go on sale to the masses at 10 a.m. on Oct. 13 — prices $50 to $54, with nearly $15 in tacked-on fees — through the egregious Ticketmaster. (Remember when Billy Corgan tried to control his own ticket sales? Those days are gone.)

There is, however, some sort of privileged American Express cred-card holder presale already underway on Ticketmaster, which means you can buy your tickets now if you happen to have that piece of plastic in your pocket. (There were no details about that from the band or the promoters; I just stumbled upon it.)

Ticketmaster.com has a page describing its promotions with American Express:

Through American Express “Early On Sale” offers for select shows, you’ll be able to purchase tickets before they go on sale to the general public! …

Some past American Express Early On Sales include:

• The Rolling Stones
• The Who
• Roger Waters
• Genesis
• Wicked
• Barbra Streisand
• Eric Clapton
• Christina Aguilera
• Aerosmith
• Rod Stewart
• Celine Dion
• Barry Manilow
• Pirate Queen
• The U.S. Open
• Mariah Carey
• Tom Petty
• Mamma Mia!
• Los Angeles Kings
• New York Knicks
• Radio City
• Christmas Spectacular

My Bloody Valentine returned to U.S. shores for the first time in 16 years last week, and I took in Saturday night’s show at the Aragon Ballroom in Chicago. While some debate the legacy of a band that was nary a household name in their heyday, I tend to prefer the take that the reunion is a welcome chance to see a group that was criminally underappreciated by the public but a huge influence and inspiration to a large amount of musicians (for reference, see the Pixies reunion tour circa 2004).

The Aragon was surprisingly good sounding for a venue that is notorious for horribly muddy acoustics (in fact, the best I’ve heard since the Smashing Pumpkins’ Machina tour). Between grainy video projections and a phalanx of constantly flashing strobes, the overall atmosphere was one of constant bombardment, especially when factoring in My Bloody Valentine’s legendarily loud shows.

However, I’m not debating MBV’s importance or even providing a detailed review of the show itself, but commenting on something that struck me as the show progressed. But the band sounded great and overall, I was really enjoying the show.

Until the set-closing performance of “You Made Me Realise.” I’m sorry, but the “Holocaust” is complete and total bullshit. For those who are unaware, in the midst of the song, the band locks into a chord, and proceeds to play it, at a deafening volume. It’s definitely a unique experience. Descriptions of the sound are often compared to being inside a jet engine, and in truth, that’s not very far off. You can feel your whole body vibrate as the noise pours over you; combined with the incessant light show, it has the effect of completely disorienting your sense of equilibrium.

Below is a YouTube clip from the Toronto performance two nights prior:

The sensation was unique and exciting at first. And then it went on. And on. And on. For 23 straight minutes. If any modern band or new band tried to get away with pushing the boundaries of their audience like this, they’d be ripped apart by fans and the press. In the midst of the maelstrom, it made me think of all the times Billy Corgan has pushed the limits and tested the patience of concertgoers and the amount of backlash he receives. And I’ve often been one of them, having been on record of my dislike of the extended versions of songs like “Heavy Metal Machine,” “United States,” and their “Set the Controls” cover. But at least those have some redeeming musical qualities. My Bloody Valentine deign to turn the crowd into a psychological experiment, and do so to the detriment of their overall show, especially when the show barely clocks in at an hour and a half total.

While Corgan would be eviscerated for such a self-indulgent, pretentious, egocentric act, I fully expected the reviews of the notoriously mysterious Kevin Shields and co. to be glowing and reverential since MBV have reached “legendary” status due to their prolonged absence. Surprisingly, while most reviewers took the predicted tack, there were some naysayers and temperates, including Time Out Chicago, the always amusing Jim Derogatis, and the even-handed group at Consequence of Sound, whose overall take most closely resembles my own.

However, I wonder just how different all the reviews above would read were the band unleashing this sonic experiment the Pumpkins rather than My Bloody Valentine.

The one-two punch:

• Lead singer Robert Schneider rocks the Obama tee; I wonder if Jim DeRogatis will now be classifying Schneider with Bloc Party frontman Kele Okereke as a “poseur”.
• Keyboardist John Ferguson is, like omg, dressed in some kind of futuristic cape.

So the question is this: How is it that Apples in Stereo is the coolest band in the universe?

In praising Mission of Burma’s performance of a 25-year-old album at Pitchfo*k Music Festival last night, venerable Chicago Sun-Times music critic Jim DeRogatis drops two comparison points:

It’s easy to take shots at Pitchfork’s opening-night “Don’t Look Back” concept of bands performing one of their classic albums in its entirety and to dismiss it as a gimmick or cheap nostalgia. But as with everything else, it all depends on the music in question.

A long since gone-Hollywood Liz Phair performing “Exile in Guyville” or the reunited sorta-Smashing Pumpkins rendering “Gish” arguably are as sad as any state fair act. But a band like Mission of Burma is a different story: Its music was always far ahead of its time; it ended the first round of its career prematurely, in part because of guitarist Roger Miller’s tinnitus, and the new albums it has recorded since 2004 have been every bit as good as “Vs.” (1983), the subject of Friday’s retrospective.

The reformed Pumpkins haven’t actually yet performed Gish, but now many of DeRogatis’s Sun-Times readers (particularly those who know that Liz Phair recently did perform Exile in Guyville) are going to assume that they have. But hey, since he already knows it’s going to suck, no harm done!

The veteran music writer today delivers the first professional review of American Gothic.