Chicago's Blue Ribbon Glee Club proves best in show

June 21, 2008, at Summer on the Square Festival

By Selena Fragassi
Published: June 23rd, 2008 | 11:00pm

Performing on the cracked steps of an old Chicago church isn't the most novel experience for a singing choir. But, then again, the 20-plus 20-somethings of the Blue Ribbon Glee Club aren't aging hippies reciting your typical Peter, Paul and Mary salvation hymns.

"All my friends are bad kids, product of no-dad kids … six F's on my report card, smoke cigs in the bathroom stall, spray paint penis on the wall," they shouted in unison from behind three-hole-punched choir books, some fittingly doodled on and others perfectly neat. The tribute to the Black Lips' "Bad Kids" — from the group's upcoming and limited-edition EP, A Cappella Uber Alles (Whistler Records) — started off the night's set list of classic covers performed by what may be the world's first-ever a cappella punk rock choir.

Lined in perfect rows on a stage of church steps in a neighborhood it calls its own, this eclectic company of both amateur and versed musicians looked like something from a paint swatch stealing from their first-place name. Color-coordinated in varying shades of denim, blue polka-dotted swing dresses, and sky blue thrift-shop T-shirts served as visual fodder for a troupe that so perfectly harmonized together on searing versions of Sleater Kinney's "Words & Guitar" and The Raincoat's 1979 anthem "Fairytale in the Supermarket" that could make even the nuns turn their heads.

If the beginning of the show didn't give it away, the overt frankness behind "Words & Guitar" made a sudden impression of how surprisingly good raucous punk songs can sound with just, well, words. Without amps or even an acoustic six-string so common to Mom's church choir, it's a testament to the Glee Club's high-energy set that such elevated volume could radiate strictly through impassioned voices, save for a few tambourines. It's an identifiable trait that makes this cover band so original.

Throughout the night, there was little in the way of conversation as the group wove through six songs, each serving as a chapter in the story of its own rebellion of music mores. It was a tale well received by a growing crowd that eagerly followed along when hearing a song they recognized and nodded in agreement, almost as is being preached to at their neighborhood church on a Sunday morning.