The Bitter Tears
Jam Tarts in the Jakehouse Release Show
at The Hideout, March 7th, 2009

by Justin Valmassoi

I arrived in the middle of a torrential downpour, dashing from the cab and spilling into the Hideout moments before The Bitter Tears took the stage. Bearing more resemblance to my uncle's basement than a venue, the dim, low-ceilinged and wood paneled interior of Chicago's most carefully hidden bar was a perfect fit for the quartet of miscreants who casually strolled onstage, eyeing the stuffed fish and wall-to-wall crowd with wary amusement.

Naked save for biballs and the occasional ladies' wig, they took to their respective instruments as those of us who had braved the elements waited, beers in hand, for entertainment. Not one to disappoint, Alan Scalpone, the ringleader of the forthcoming honky-tonk-via-kitchen-sink circus emerged wearing Braveheart facepaint, a skin-tight sparkly scarlet top and a bewildered smile. With a bizarre mixture of drag queen sass and doomsday prophet sincerity he led the band through a stomping rendition of 'Slay the Heart of the Earth', the opening track from their very recently released Jam Tarts in the Jakehouse LP.

Thirty seconds in it became apparent this was not so much concert as it was SPECTACLE, for all the world likes a redneck impression of a Mexican birthday party as performed by well-behaved mental patients. The bow of Michael McKinley's stand-up bass was shredded into cornsilk wisps thirty seconds into the first song. Trumpets emerged. The female vocals which appear on the record were replaced by a bunch of men in overalls harmonizing in falsetto, which is as terrifying as it sounds. A quick scan of the crowd revealed a mixture of amusement, fear, confusion and enjoyment that normally only occurs when watching Rock of Love Bus. By the end of the night the confusion and fear had been converted into handclaps, foot-stomping and acceptance. A surrender to spectacle, a conversion of faith.



It's hard to describe the Bitter Tears' sound. Certainly there's something twangy and familiar, pop structures tied to Waits and Zappa with hanks of twine. Big Star by way of the psych ward. The creeping horns, player piano and deranged preacher rants are much more effective live, where Scalpone's combination of tongue-in-cheek theatre and consummate showmanship is given the room and range it needs to breathe. The quieter tunes on the LP are transformed into a lurching, wheezing circus, an impossible-to-ignore parade of kitsch and wonder.Still, there is plenty to enjoy about the record itself. For every Whiskeytown guitar hook there is an equal and opposite oboe drone or trombone interjection, all buoying Scalpone's bizarre sing-speak dialogue. Like a poor man's Isaac Brock he has a knack for imbuing stream-of-consciousness babble with surprising sincerity. Even if you don't know what in the hell he's talking about, you know he means it.

Despite their penchant for humor and/or costumes, to dismiss the band as a novelty act is to do them a severe disservice. Much like their peers in Ween, the musical chops necessary to create their particular brand of outsider music cannot be denied. You won't likely find yourself crying to it (unless someone forgot to give you your thorazine) but you may find that it's made its way onto your stereo or iPod time and time again. It will certainly appeal to that guy who's always at your house, stoned, making tiny houses out of Saltines before eating them.

In concert, however, the group comes as close as they're likely to get to making sense. Certain bands transcend the notion of playing the album live and understand that the stage is just that. A platform for a different type of entertainment. While it might take a minute to get past their continually bizarre outfits and chatty-homeless-guy banter, once you stop judging and start listening, it becomes apparent The Bitter Tears are doing their damnedest to make the price of admission worthwhile. While there is no shortage of Chicago bands vying for your dollars and your evenings, there are few that offer a more engaging show for your money.

Photos by Julius Lim via the Bitter Tears Myspace