In my travels I have met great minds from all corners of the Earth. It is refreshing for the ears and the soul to hear another point of view. www.mezzic.com is the brain-child of Chicago music lover John Brunner. He has spent many sleepless nights bringing the best in music to the ears of those clever enough to listen. John will be contributing to this site on a random basis, (as will I on his) informing new eyes and minds of happenings further afield than these timid Dublin shores… welcome Mezzic!
A couple weeks ago a video ran across those wires and tubes we call the internet, one that drew out that kid within that continues to flourish today, albeit wiser and with a degree. To anyone who views it without ever having experienced the venue, it could very well be any small club in any big city that served teenage escapism. The thing was…is…this venue was not a mere blip on the touring map, but became as influential as CBGB or the lesser known Gilman Street.
The Fireside Bowl was a staple of every Chicago punk, ska, and underground music fan for the 1990s through 2004. And it’s influence has since spread globally with its alumni including: Dilliger Four, Rainer Maria, The Get Up Kids, Sleater-Kinney, Anti-Flag, Jimmy Eat World, The Tossers, Plain White T’s and even Fall Out Boy among others. So when the Chicago News Cooperative unveiled their video retrospective detailing the semi-revival of this musical monolith, I couldn’t keep the nostalgia from flowing.
High school in America is stereotyped as proms, house parties, and awkward kids trying to make it with the head of the cheerleading squad. Me…I dove into the punk and ska scene like none other. A friend and I even attempted to convince our band teacher to let us perform Less Than Jake songs, alas we were not motivated enough at the time to follow through. We spent our nights and weekends far from the Dazed and Confused tales and football night lights, opting for the dingiest, dirtiest place that magically avoided being closed down by the sanitary department-the Fireside Bowl.
The venue was a bowling alley. When you stood in the audience, the unused lanes were to the right. Often people stood up on the seats near the lanes or tables all the way to the back where normally bowling balls would be racked up. Merch tables were stationed in the back with a stage opposite. There were bathrooms, yes…but you quickly learned to avoid them for fear of the unseen layered under stickers, stains and markings. It didn’t matter since we made days out of going to a show at the Fireside. Our version of a theme park turned into thrift store furniture, cheap diner food and rattling your eardrums amidst the sweat of your peers.
The magic came through over the years. The Fireside held at least seven shows a week, often eight. You could tell if a band was good that evening as you would a European bakery; check the line out the door. There were no advance tickets but only first come first serve. It was there that I discovered the plethora of Chicago punk including The Ghost, Apocalypse Hoboken, Lawrence Arms and a feisty, young Rise Against. Alkaline Trio often performed there, albeit at a slower pace following 2000. However a distinct memory was seeing Matt Skiba leaning against the wall aside the stage, beer in hand, trying to keep his inebriated composure. There was no backstage at the Fireside.
One of the latter sets included Ted Leo & The Pharmacists. Yet the most memorable always came from those who were most familiar. Billy Spunke dazzled the crowd with his The Who Club cover band, opening just prior to Apocalypse Hoboken’s farewell concert. The frontman of the Blue Meanies already attained a hushed status through their unique blend of ska hooks and raging punk rhythms. For us, Chicagoans, the Fireside was a place where musicians returned time and time again regardless of their status. The independence and sheer cliffs of creativity would succumb any musician to fall back into those waters.
In 2004, without a single word, the Fireside closed. It may have been the shattered ceiling tiles, the noise complaints or the fact our generation did get out of hand in the cramped circle pits that did it in. But for six long years the bowling alley retook its original purpose. The Chicago scene became listless after feeling betrayed at the sudden upheaval. Shows shifted, but that core soul was being rehashed amid strikes and spares. It was to the surprise of many when the Fireside began a tentative run of shows this summer for the first time. Though too many of us are hesitant to return and, oddly enough, see our form of heaven spic and spanned to cleanliness.
So as the video came up, my entire being reverted back about ten years when I was convincing my family that the car I borrowed would end up safe and sound in the garage the following day. Never once did I mention the broken glass and beat up cars of the surroundings. Instead I portrayed the area as it was to my imagination, my soul at the time-a home underneath starless city glow, far from suburban sprawl.
As the Chicago News Cooperative declares, “It was the 90s music scene in Chicago. Period.” While the world may know Smashing Pumpkins and the Metro, Chicagoans were drawn to this mecca of the Midwest.
