Tutu And The Pirates and four other Chicago punk-rock asterisks

Two of Chicago’s earliest and oddest punk bands reunite Saturday at the Empty Bottle to celebrate the release of their retrospective albums: Tutu And The Pirates’ Sub-Urban Insult Rock For The Anti/Lectual and DA’s !. Their reappearance is a reminder that while Chicago-punk bigshots like Naked Raygun, The Effigies, and Big Black tended to be aggressive, literate bands, the city's also had its share of weird and crude punk acts, too. Whether it was Jim Skafish’s massive nose, Algebra Suicide’s poetry, or Toothpaste’s cereal-based comedy, a number of bands had conventions that were irregular even for a punk scene, assuring they’d remain asterisks in Chicago rock lore. Before the Tutu And The Pirates/DA show, The A.V. Club inspected five bizarre acts from Chicago's punk yesteryear and pinpointed what went wrong.

Tutu And The Pirates (1977-1980)

What was wrong: These Chicago punk pioneers embraced everything stupid and offensive about the safety-pin scene, especially eschewing fashion (exhibit A: their beards). Drummer Tutu  injured himself in a motorcycle accident, after which he just read porno magazines onstage while his bandmates played songs like "I've Got Zits” and "I Wanna Be A Janitor."

What happened: The band never released a record, but apparently kept at it. Though the retrospective is mainly demos and live material, newly recorded song "Berlin" proves they never grew or gave up. 

DA (1978-1982)

What was wrong:  Fronted by singer/bassist Lorna Donley, DA was a predominantly female, proto-Goth, psych/drone/art band with songs so dark they make Ian Curtis seem like Pee-wee Herman.

What happened: DA broke up before its record came out, but Donley and guitarist Dave Thomas reunited in the late '80s as The Veil. DA's new album, !, more than doubles the band's previously released output, adding demos and live tracks to their great EP, Time Will Be Kind.

Negative Element (1980-1983)

What was wrong:  If only all hardcore was this adorable. The Willow Springs teens released the ridiculous Yes, We Have No Bananas EP, anchored by the protest anthem “Anti-Pac-Man.” Another song, “Police Beat (On Me)” featured the lyrics, “With a gun in your face and a club up your caboose,” because their moms wouldn’t let them say “ass.”

What happened: Vocalist Tom Faulkner went on to join Rights Of The Accused, and the Steppe brothers (Barry and Chopper) moved to Peoria, forming Caustic Defiance, plus dozens of absurdist side projects like Naked Hippy, CHiPs Patrol, and Kyle And The Shitheads. Chopper occasionally sits in with hardcore-revival act Regress.

The Cunts (1978?-present?)

What was wrong:  One of Chicago’s first punk bands, these Bridgeport garage rockers spat at mainstream success' face when they chose their name. The mysterious South Siders were rarely seen or photographed, but self-released a bushel of records with songs like “There Are Electrical Filaments On My Hamburger.”

What happened: The band has apparently stayed intact and releases something every few years. Best yet, a couple of the guys come to concerts and openings, so if you see an old, grizzled guy standing in the corner at an all-ages show looking buzzed and amused, don’t worry. He may not be a creep, he may just be a Cunt.

ONO (1980-∞)

What was wrong: This noise/experimental/performance art project was fronted by Travis Dobbs (a.k.a. "Travis"), a majestic, gay Vietnam vet and sound-sculptor. ONO combined drones, gospel, theatricality, blackface, Dynasty, and cross-dressing in ways that drove Naked Raygun fans crazy.

What happened: Travis became a fixture in Chicago’s arts scene. In part inspired by interest from Chicago’s psychedelic overlord Plastic Crimewave, ONO has returned to Chicago stages and plays a show at the Museum of Contemporary Art on May 11. Whether aging '80s scenesters can survive DA, Tutu, and ONO in one weekend remains to be seen.