Liz Phair, the former Wicker Park resident whose debut album “Exile On Guyville” won her national acclaim and a stockpile of cred, now writes songs with the men responsible for Avril Lavigne.

Kill Hannah, local legends for over half a decade and Chicago’s great-glam-hope, has sold less than 50,000 copies of their major-label debut.

Billy Corgan has augmented himself for the sunny west coast and no longer calls Chicago “home.”

Besides alt-rockers Wilco, the Windy City is without any nationally drawing acts.

However, seemingly out of nowhere, Urge Overkill has regrouped, and returned after a seven year hiatus like the prodigal songs of rock – to save a fledgling scene in dire need of a leader and to remind the country Chicago is as capable as ever.

On their worst days, they are lavish personified. Cheeky, arrogant rockers as infamous for self-indulgent shticks as they are for their music. From the tacky leisure suits, to mid-day rides through Wicker Park, sipping martinis with their convertible top down and feet up on the dashboard – Urge Overkill demand attention.

At their more frequent best, they are pure rock’n’roll Chicago scenesters, who clawed their influential niche in the aforementioned bands as well as countless others. They are a legend, a myth – the type of aura given to those who retire in their prime and leave with as many unanswered questions as brilliant moments.

They were never the largest band in Chicago, but from their first shows in the mid 1980′s, they were the most important. Even in their heyday, The Smashing Pumpkins couldn’t compete with the cities love of UO.

Urge Overkill’s wrap sheet reads like a tale of outsider literature; full of near misses, close calls and teetering between self-inflicted exclusion and mainstream acceptance.

The 1980′s were an experiment in excess. More than any other decade, the Reagan administration battled extremities of fashion, lifestyle, politics and entertainment all at once. The early 90′s were a return to minimalism. The durgier the better. The explosion of Seattle’s “grunge” scene captivated America and was as stark overshadowing contrast to the elaborate sounds coming from Europe with U2′s “Achtung Baby,” Depeche Mode’s “Songs of Faith and Devotion” and The Cure’s “Wish.”

UO fit into neither era. Not crass enough to slum with the mockery-of-glam stadium acts like Poison. Too serious to tease out their hair and squeeze into a pair of spandex. Yet too visually expressive to be taken seriously by the legions of Nirvana-ites who viewed hygiene and fashion sense as a weakness or a desire to sell-out.

Somehow, in the midst of rock’n’roll’s changing-of-the-guards, Urge Overkill released their masterpiece – 1993′s “Saturation.” An epic of fist-pumping, self-assured swagger packaged into 12 songs ready to explode upon first listen, and prove to you they could rock as hard as they knew they could. UO didn’t care if you got it, or if you were ready get it. They were serving up unadulterated, genuine, passionate, rock-your-socks-off tunes they knew were perfect. And we knew they knew it.

Shortly after, they reached their highest level of commercial success, when their cover of Neil Diamond’s “Girl You’ll Be A Woman Soon” appeared in “Pulp Fiction.” However, following suit, UO soon dismantled in 1997 after the release of “Exit The Dragon.” Instead of kicking down the door into rock stardom, they closed it on themselves. Haunted by internal feuds, Nash Kato, Blackie Onassis and Eddie Roeser lusted after the limelight which always seemed to land just beyond their audience’s earshot.The highly volatile group of nonconformists imploded when the opportunity for national recognition knocked the loudest.

Urge Overkill’s reunion wont be as publicized as other recent reunions. It wont be the pad-the-bank-account tours a la Simon and Garfunkel, The Who and Crosby Stills Nash and Young. UO wont be playing to legions of middle-aged men in search of nostalgia acts and trying to find a window into their childhoods. They wont host 30,000 fans in arenas worldwide like perpetual travelers U2, Madonna, The Rolling Stones and Bruce Springsteen.

Instead, it will be a tour won in the trenches. It will be dark, musty, smoke-filled clubs; playing to 1,000 people. It will be for contemporary music lovers in search of music that still matters.
Urge Overkills first two Chicago shows sold out in less than a week. Back-to-back nights at the illustrious Double Door marked the bands first gigs since their hometown was infatuated by The Bulls multiple NBA titles.

They are not as monolithic as NYC, and not flashy and fake as LA. They strike a perfect balance between the two. They are glitz and glamour disguised with grunt. They are critically mainstream, and – aside from the Beatle boots, sunglasses and pinstriped attire – ambiguous to your casual fan on the street. They cherry pick the best elements of the past (Detroit garage, New York punk, UK glam) and create a hybrid unique to The Second City.
In short, Urge Overkill is Chicago.

How does a band that never carried the superstar torch very far muster such a mythic facade and seem as relevant today as ever?

How does it not?

Northern Star Online, Feb. 18, 2004