Everclear have two new albums coming out this year but you'd hardly know it from the rare small club appearance they made Friday night at San Francisco's intimate Bottom of the Hill. Those curious what direction singer/songwriter and all-around Greek guy Art Alexakis might be leading his trio on the forthcoming Songs From an American Movie, Volume I: Learning How to Smile and Volume II: Good Time for a Bad Attitude, would have to wait.

Despite the building buzz for the new records, despite this being their first gig in ages, despite a house packed with guest-listed radio industry conventioneers (this show was part of the annual Gavin fiasco) and a few keen fans, the band opted to debut a less than generous, solitary new song,"Now That It's Over." From first lick to last it was a greatest hits affair spanning Everclear's catalogue of user-friendly FM rock.

Cultivating the punk-y Dwayne Schneider ("Hey, Ms. Romano!") look in workman's pants, a white wife-beater and bleached platinum coiffure, Alexakis took the cramped stage looking every one of his thirty-eight-hard-years -old. But he and the boys -- drummer Greg Eklund, bassist Craig Montoya and what Alexakis affectionately called the "auxiliary band" (Some Guy on guitar, Some Guy on keyboards/squeezebox, Some Guy on percussion) -- came to rock and, however uninspired, rock they would.

Opening with their Grammy-nominated instrumental "El Distorto De Melodica" and segueing into an ill-tuned "Amphetamine," the Portland rockers seemed want for intensity and cohesion from the get-go. Pink-maned Montoya dangled the requisite smoke from his lips, said the f-word a bunch and busted the odd high kick, Eklund thumped with precision (but how totally emasculating that they need a second drummer to augment his snare and crash attack!) and Alexakis thrashed and bounded about. Yet, the whole night felt less like an urgent rock happening and more like a private payback party for every programmer and A&R rep ever pestered into submission by the infamously eager Alexakis.

While the band reached all the way back to 1993's World of Noise for a lively "Nervous and Weird," and broke up the power chord monotony nicely with an acoustic "Strawberry" from 1995's breakthrough Sparkle and Fade, the evening's most effective moments came from 1997's hit machine, So Much For The Afterglow. "Father of Mine" was tight and punchy as was a spirited tear through "Like A California King," and a particularly bouncy reading of "Everything to Everyone."

Elsewhere though, they faltered hard. Alexakis has an uncanny knack for writing big melodic hooks sadly above and beyond his natural vocal range, much like his key-challenged brethren Billy Corgan, Dave Grohl, Anthony Kiedis and Stephen Jenkins. Forty-seven takes in the studio and you've got yourself a Billboard Heatseeker, but up close and personal it's drop an octave time. To that effect, "Electra Made Me Blind" suffered as did a strained, "I Will Buy You A New Life;" the latter introduced with a mandatory heroin story. Gotta play that drug card.

Of course the most anticipated moment of any Everclear show is and forever shall be the "do-do, do-do-do-do-do-do (chicka-chicka)" riff that signals the beginning of "Santa Monica," still the trio's finest number and clearly the best radio anthem of the Clinton-era. But again those nagging high parts wouldn't go away so Alexakis conveniently yielded the mic to the crowd for half the number. Sadly, on this night the Drunken Gavin Convention Choir sounded even worse than his fading rasp.

Strangely, there was nothing special about seeing Everclear in a tiny club. It didn't feel monumental or privileged to be within sweat smelling range of Art & Co. As both a complement to their down-to-earthiness and a comment on their non-dynamic nature, the multi-platinum selling, MTV mainstays don't really seem that famous. Whereas prior prominent-band-plays-venue-that's-too-small gigs at Bottom of the Hill, most notably Green Day and the Beastie Boys, brought nothing short of a teenage riot, Everclear might as well have been just another talented local band for all the frenzy they drummed up. Some apparent fan club members attempted rebellion with a minor mosh pit, but visceral electricity was conspicuously absent both onstage and in the crowd. The obvious scapegoat for the lackluster vibe would be the preponderance of old industry farts and schmoozing labelettes on the floor, but a great live band should have no problem waking even the deadest of dead. During the encore, Montoya manned the mic for an amply raucous stab at AC/DC's "Sin City," but even the potent combination of his best Bon Scott impression and Alexakis' senseless beating of his Les Paul couldn't salvage an underwhelming evening.

GREG HELLER
(February 22, 2000)