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Written by Cory Hoehn Tuesday, 06 December 2005 05:39

Junior Senior/
Electric Six
w/The Nice Device
The Doubledoor, Chicago
August 2003 

My travels last week to see the headlining double bill of Junior Senior and Electric Six at the Doubledoor in Chicago’s Bucktown area didn’t involve much of a road because I flew Southwest Airlines during the box-cutter scare. I knew I could count on increased security for the trip back, at least. The only areas of pavement involved in the journey were the departing and landing strips at the airports.

I entered the Doubledoor, expecting a larger square footage in front of the stage. I could be mistaken, but the bar area to the side seemed larger to me. It makes sense that liquor sales are primo for revenue, since the waitresses stopped by our table in every ten minutes, making sure we were nowhere close to thirsty.

Around 9:30, opening act The Nice Device took the stage. Consisting of three guys and a female lead singer/guitarist who resembled both Aimee Mann and Kurt Cobain, the Nice Device performed passionately while remaining edgy and rampant.

The buzz was on when the lights went down for the duo from Copenhagen. Junior first stepped onto the stage, proudly wearing his purple Stevie Wonder In Square Circle t-shirt. Senior joined Junior seconds later, clad in a red hooded sweatshirt, jeans, and a smile as they opened with “Go Junior Go Senior.” The two are quite proud of their work. Like a spinning top, Senior rarely stayed in one place during the set, jumping from one spot to the other, wiping his brow and gleefully tossing the towel in the air, where it landed on the drummer’s head. Graciously and whimsically, they performed each song from their album. Toward the end of their show, their backup singer joined the duo in a rap cover version of “Twist and Shout,” morphing into Salt-n-Pepa’s “Push It.” It’s great to see a band show so much charisma and spunk early in their career. My head was spinning when I met Senior at the merchandise booth at the end of the night. Warmly, he thanked me for coming out. That’s the kind of band they are. A brighter, funkier future lies ahead.

I gave myself a little distance for Electric Six, leaning against the wall to get a panoramic view of their fire in the disco. Frontman Dick Valentine claims to be schizophrenic; at first, I thought he was joking. Halfway through the set, though, he began to behave strangely: waving his hand unremittingly to the crowd, pulling out his wallet to display the cash (perhaps he was trying pay off the audience as a gag). The songs were up to par much like their studio album; it was just hard to shake the peculiar feats of Mr. Valentine.