Sunday 05/12/04 Phoenix @ Double Door, Chicago

September 2000. The halcyon days of a treasured yesteryear. Napster was a fresh illicit thrill and George Bush still had two full months to go before undermining the democratic process forever. Years before the return of The Cure, Morrissey and Duran Duran, Internet visionaries had their ears to the ground. They heard the first rumblings of an Eighties revival. And the band that led the charge? Phoenix. Here they were, Air's one-time backing musicians, branching out on their own. Debut release 'United' revisited every grin-inducing synth emission from the decade when Cold War paranoia kept us up nights. From the punk burst of 'Party Time' to the lite FM sunset rush of 'Summer Days', Phoenix changed gears faster than a rented Nissan Micra on the twisting cliffside path to Monte Carlo.

Fast-forward four years. Napster costs money, file-sharers do time, and Jorge got the popular vote. Who better to rescue us with a retro escape pod than Phoenix? If anyone can offer up forty minutes of sonic salvation, it is our French friends, oui? Malheureusement, non. Whist still wrapped in cellophane, 'Alphabetical' looked as enticing as the French Riviera does at dawn from the windowseat of an Easyjet in descent. Give it a spin and suddenly it's like waking up in Nice to see the rear right tyre of that rented Nissan Micra punctured in the night by the nuisance of passing hooligan. This disc is the aural equivalent of pate-bland, unpalatable, not designed for mass consumption. And yet that is the entire reason for this disc's existence. Phoenix are being groomed as the first French band to break America.

This being their first ever US tour, Phoenix does, thankfully, draw from their back catalogue. But they do so in a way that tries to please both longtime fans of 'United' and the kids who jumped onboard after they saw Bill Murray dance around in Tokyo in jungle camouflage. As a result, songs from both albums are stacked together in a medley. 'Honeymoon' starts off okay before morphing into Forgettable Song #5 off Alphabetical. 'Too Young' is dispensed with right off the bat before the nitwits who came here to relive the film get the chance to start requesting 'Brass in Pocket' and The La's. Speaking of nitwits-note to the blonde in the front row-yes, you, the one blowing smoke-rings: any acumen who have toward feats of nicotine fancy is altogether negated by your rash decision to sing along to the pre-show music of 'Brown-Eyed Girl'. This isn't the wine bar.

Back to the review. Phoenix even stray into the canon of classic rock by supplementing the second half of 'If I Ever Feel Better' with the bassline from 'Owner of a Lonely Heart'. Bassist Deck D'Arcy boasts the same surname as his counterpart in the Smashing Pumpkins but with his Urge Overkill T-shirt it's obvious that he and the band are here to pay homage to another Chicago rock dinosaur from the Nineties. The ploy works. Goaded by no less a has-been than UO mainman Nash Kato, who rouses the audience with the verve reserved for one of Jerry Springer's henchmen ("Come on, people. There's a word, in French, it's called encore."), the boys from Paris bound back on stage for two more. We are treated to another rendition of 'Everything is Everything', this time, acoustic, before a closing wallop of 'Party Time', which, for a split second, sees the four core members rocking shoulder-to-shoulder at the front of the stage in full-on glorious obnoxious Whitesnake mode. Guest stars, medleys, crowd invasions. Look out, Jessica Simpson. If Phoenix keep this up, they'll have their own variety show in no time.

Photo by Josh Cox