Smashing Pumpkins Album Review: Siamese Dream
SIAMESE DREAM is a nightmare in heaven, stirred not shaken, and poured straight into a Kamikaze glass. Raucous, distorto guitars and caterwauling mean only one thing: those damned angels wanna stay up late again.
— Marcia B. Merson
Published in The Village Voice Paz & Jop, Volume 8. March 1, 1994
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Creem Magazine - Opening Riffs: Superchunk
Slack motherfuckers they are not. What distinguishes Superchunk from other indie scenesters is its punky effervescence. No doubt Superchunk's melodic but abrasive dueling guitar anthems are the love seed born of the Buzzcocks and Generation X, with dollops of Dinosaur Jr. and DNA thrown in. Yet, the band manages to emerge as an original after this dip in punk's germinal pool.
On stage, the band members are corduroy-clad whirling dervishes weaving and bobbing through their songs with apparent ease. The best equipment they own is pairs of British Knights (a free commodity that came along with their recording the soundtrack of the recent BK commercial).
Before crying "sell-out," it should be noted that though the major labels (namely Warner, CBS, and Atlantic) have scratched at Superchunk's door, the band is still yawning at the prospect. It's undeniable that mega-popularity hovers over the horizon for these wall-of-noise wonders. However, frontman Mac McCaughan gives success little consideration. "Occasionally there is some grumbling from other bands; 'What's the big deal about them? They're just another local band, which is true," states the modest Mac. "We're just another band. People get all worked up about that but we don't write the articles; we're just doing what we do."
Superchunk typifies a new breed of DIY '90s bands that aim in directions other than Top 40 radio or TV glitz spots. Picking up the banner from Hüsker Dü and the Replacements, the Chunks already realize, at the tender ages of 24 and 25, that It's music first, business later. That's how it should be. These industry-wary folks prefer being with their self-owned Merge label, where they maintain artistic control. They've even released records of fellow North Carolinians/tourmates Polvo.
Adds McGaughan, "It's hard to make a blanket statement like indie music sucks now, but it's scary to think of really big indie bands because you realize many of them have signed to a major label-which isn't inherently bad, but it is worrisome. I think it's important for there to be an infrastructure like indie music where people can put out records without having a lot of money."
With On the Mouth, their latest on Merge/Matador, melodic guitar caroms, Spirit-of-'76 riffs, and pummeling percussion score a loud fast adrenal rush while still soothing the savage beast. Three-chord crash is swapped for a semi-structured approach.
Bassist Laura Ballence reveals that the guitars got juiced back up in part of the mix. Nevertheless, It's the first album, overall, where every Instrument maintains clarity rather than get drowned in the sonic overspill. States Mac, "The separate things that the guitars are doing are most evident on this record. The vocals and the drums are a little bit louder than usual, which I don't always like. I'd prefer to be more wall-of-noise, but there are lots of times I'm glad you can hear the separate things."
Superchunk's singles compilation Tossing Seeds (Touch and Go) chronologically charts the band's stunning two-year growth from Mud Wump to graceful Venus Fly Trap. The critically acclaimed No Pocky for Kitty ('91) showed how Superchunk began to extend beyond a teen-pain rootsiness into somewhat brighter musical foliage. A track such as "Precision Auto" on the new offering is a good example of their transcendence. *I wrote all the songs on the first album," says Mac. "Now, I'll come up with the main idea and we'll work out all the other parts with all four people there."
As with any group effort, some features are bound to change, but Laura's modesty is stolid. The waifish Southern belle sheared her long tresses in response to a song New York City's Surgery wrote about her called "Dear Sweet Laura." Much to her chagrin, the press dubbed her the "Julia Roberts" of the underground (Roberts cut her hair for a movie role). "We both have largish lips. That's the only thing I can think of," explains Laura. "It's hilarious how one person will say something and you have to deal with it for the rest of your life."
Glamour does not permeate Superchunk's life no matter how much ardor the bassist inspires. Truth be told, If the band shot a rockumentary, "you'd end up seeing us sitting around bored waiting for soundchecks, sitting in the van a lot, sitting in Denny's," Mac remarks. "It probably wouldn't be that exciting on film; there would be a lot of mindless chatter in the van. We'd call it 'Jim Is Feeling Delicate Right Now'-that's Jim Wilbur, our other guitarist. He likes to stay home."
Unfortunately for Jim, this crew is bound to be slated for many a tour. How comforting it is to know Superchunk will be Tossing Seeds all over the place.
—Marcia B. Merson
© 2026 Marcia Merson. All rights reserved.