OVERNIGHT. Rock - Sugarcubes leave bad taste while Cracker is appetizing
Chicago Tribune (CT) - WEDNESDAY April 22, 1992
By:  Mark Caro
Edition:  NORTH SPORTS FINAL   Section: NEWS   Page: 16
Word Count:  581

TEXT:
    The Sugarcubes and Cracker don't particularly go together as foods, and
they're even less complementary as bands, as was evident at Tuesday night's
show at the Riviera.

    The Sugarcubes, who headlined the show, are an Icelandic sextet whose
exotic, off-kilter rock appeals to "alternative" youngsters with a taste
for singer Bjork Gudmundsottir's strange trills, squeaks and howls. Cracker
is a casual, trends-be-damned guitar-rock quartet from northern California
fronted by former Camper Van Beethoven singer/songwriter David Lowery.

    Cracker's songs, many of which have a distinct country-blues influence,
are of the tuneful, instantly-stick-in-your-head variety. The Sugarcubes,
who seem influenced by having sat on a spinning carnival ride too long,
often challenge the listener to find the song.

    The Sugarcubes are the opposite of an acquired taste. At first, they
seem fascinatingly otherworldly; the hook of their first single, the
strangely compelling "Birthday," essentially sounds like Gudmundsottir
being goosed while gargling. But after several songs, a spoonful of
Sugarcubes helps the medicine come up.

    The band took the foggy stage, which could have been dubbed Dry
Iceland, and launched into the loopy rhythms of "Gold," the kickoff song on
the Sugarcubes' third and latest album, "Stick Around for Joy" (Elektra).
Gudmundsottir, whose hair made her resemble a cross between Princess Leia
and a Mouseketeer, wailed through her incredibly elastic pipes while Einar
Orn, his Sonny to her Cher, barked phrases such as "Just give me gollllddd!
I want more gollllddd!" The two singers also performed patty-cake
variations in their jolly dances together.

    That was pretty much the pattern for the show: As the band churned away
in some oblique time signature, Gudmundsottir showed off her voice rather
than attaching it to any discernible melody or rhythm, and Orn-like B-52
Fred Schneider's cousin from hell-interjected such nonsense as "Life and
death, glass and water, rock and roll, wash and dirty, Christ and Jesus,
time and hour."

    When Orn angrily threatened the crowd that he would leave the stage if
the folks up front continued passing each other over their heads, the
audience passed up a golden opportunity.

    The band did occasionally click, notably on the latest single, " Hit,"
in which Gudmundsottir sings a tune that actually sounds designed to
accompany the chords and beat. But most of the show was a blur of skewed
dissonance that lost its novelty appeal two albums ago.

    In contrast, Cracker, which was also well received by the crowd,
delivered a straight-ahead, pile-driving set that drew from the band's
terrific self-titled debut album (Virgin). Cracker is far less eclectic
than Camper was, but this band allows Lowery to retain his wry sense of
humor while singing and playing a lot harder and louder. Plus, guitarist
Johnny Hickman and bassist Davey Faragher are versatile backing singers who
can provide surprisingly soulful harmonies.

    Although the band opened with the absurdist waltz "Dr. Bernice," they
soon shifted into more aggressive territory with the erupting volcano of a
blues song, "St. Cajetan," and the funny, searing "Teen Angst (What the
World Needs Now)." In an unusual move for a band plugging its first album,
Cracker also played three unreleased songs that sounded even grungier than
the recorded material.

    As Cracker finished with a corrosive rendering of Camper's "(I Was Born
in a) Laudromat," Lowery lit his guitar on fire and smashed it. This may
have been the biggest cliche of the evening, but the crowd loved it.
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