Viagra Boys Live Show Review: 2/24, The Salt Shed, Chicago
Growing up in California, people told Sebastian Murphy he was too much of a freak. When he moved to Sweden, there they told him he was too normal. Thatâs how the Viagra Boys frontman introduced âPunk Rock Loserâ, a self-aware standout from the bandâs third album Cave World (YEAR0001), Friday night at The Salt Shed. The song showcases a drug-addicted, reckless, overconfident man, one that Murphy admits he perhaps used to be, not even five years ago. Itâs this mixture of self-hatred and idealization where Murphy, and Viagra Boys as a whole, lies, a presence truly reflected in their live show.
The very makeup of Viagra Boys is a microcosm for the contrasts they demonstrate. As a frontman, Murphy exaggeratedly emulates the toxic males Viagra Boys chide. Swilling beer, sunglasses on, his words barked, Murphy shouted and slurred his way through âBig Boyâ, the very sight of a heavily tattooed, beer bellied man gravel-throating the words, âWell Iâm a big boy, baby,â seemingly designed to send shudders down the spine of a normie. On the flipside, thereâs saxophonist Oscar Carls, the only member of the band to match Murphyâs level of sheer performance. Also donning Matrix-era sunglasses, equally drunk (on wine he kept filling up), the short-shorted, slender player vogued his way through âAinât Niceâ and âBig Boyâ when he wasnât impressively skronking on his instrument. On the instrumental âCold Playâ, his swirling solo dabbled in free jazz improvisation, the type of artistic headiness thatâs on the opposite end of the spectrum of Murphyâs hilarious blathering.
The funniest thing about Viagra Boys, though, is how good of a live band they are. From Elias Jungqvistâs scratchy keyboard breakdown on âBig Boyâ to Tor SjödĂ©nâs crashing drums on âSportsâ, theyâre simultaneously tight and adventurous. Theyâre also surprising. SjödĂ©n sang in beautiful falsetto harmony with Murphyâs slow drawl on âThe Cognitive Trade-Off Hypothesisâ. Jungqvist added a wavering synth line to âSportsâ. Murphy picked up a guitar on freakout jam âShrimp Shackâ. The band established a stage presence and immediately supplanted it.
Viagra Boys are satirists, their very name referencing a sense of false virility that pervades the hyper-aggressive men and conspiracy theorists they make fun of. In a sense, itâs a genius formula: As long as there are idiots, there will be Viagra Boys songs, like âCreepy Crawlersâ, which saw Murphy writhing on the floor, imitating the desperation of a particularly brainwashed anti-vaxxer: âTheyâre putting little creepy crawlers in the vaccine!â Yet, part of Murphyâs imitation is putting himself in the shoes of his subject, as heâs fascinated by them without thinking of himself as above them. On stage, he contrasted an early song like âLiquidsâ with Cave Worldâs anti-gun diatribe âTroglodyteâ, stating he, âNow writes about political turmoil and the state of the world.â But the next song the band played in the set was âSportsâ, their breakout single, the very song that makes fun of men who unnecessarily wear sunglasses. You know, like the Viagra Boys themselves.
And then thereâs âWormsâ. Itâs a stylistic outlier in Viagra Boysâ catalog, a little bit country, featuring a subdued bassline, Murphy adopting a twang. âThe same worms that eat me will someday eat you, too,â is like a John Prine punchline turned into a whole song, but one thatâs an appropriate reminder that whether youâre right or wrong, an asshole or a nice person, death is the great equalizer.
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