At Electric Owl on Sunday, January 11

A band dressed to kill in tight, shiny getups, radiating high-voltage beats and enough anti-everything attitude to rival John Lydon circa 1980. This is what rock ’n’ roll is all about—in the traditional sense, anyhow. And so it was when Chain & the Gang, the latest project of Washington, D.C.’s cult hero Ian Svenonius, paid Vancouver a visit at Electric Owl.

Stepping into the Owl on a gloomy Sunday to find a minuscule subsector of ’60s-mod revivalists, with moptops and Chelsea boots galore, is a pretty surreal experience. So brazenly at odds with the current trend of ’90s nihilism, it was rather endearing to see Vancouverites shuffling unashamedly to DJ Keith McCafferty’s retro warm-up set.

Buzzing with distorted fuzz, local openers Invisible Ray got the job done in loosening up the beat-hungry audience with their minimalist, throwback rock tunes. But as hard-hitting and amped-up as the duo was, it couldn’t distract from the cringe-worthiness of lyrics like “Destroy destruction” or guitarist Bernie Pleasegotch’s dadlike interjections of “Let’s all enjoy this particular rock ’n’ roll that we are providing for you.” Oy vey.

Even at 47 years of age, Chain & the Gang frontman Ian Svenonius is certainly not dadlike. Over the course of his storied career, from the political punk band Nation of Ulysses to book deals to radio shows, his subversive, swaggerful persona has owed much to the likes of Iggy Pop and Lux Interior, with a dash of Marxist ideology. And still, Svenonius has managed to retain enough of a unique voice and underground following to afford him a cult-figure status like few others—helped by the fact that he’s fucking hilarious.

Ergo, it’s easy to see why the front row’s Svenonius fanatics went moony-eyed when Chain & the Gang climbed on the stage. The band’s spiffy, shimmering Beatle suits were a pleasant change for anyone tired of seeing bands play in the same old hipster uniform of flannel and Converse. Punks clean up nice.

As the band sparked up a smouldering rhythm to match their sulky pouts, Svenonius launched into introductions, declaring: “Chain & the Gang: the only band with the guts to say down with liberty! Up with chains! Don’t make me express myself. I’m sick of it! You know, freedom has a lot of friends. The torturers at Guantanamo Bay—they’re protecting freedom 24 hours a day. But we say down with freedom!”

As he tore out a James Brown yowl and some fancy footwork before dropping to his knees in worship of ice-queen guitarist Francy Z Graham, the frontman’s weirdo charisma was downright delightful. And so were his anticapitalist-agitator remarks, even when he ironically rambled about rezoning issues and public statues like some demented town crier. Bassist Anna Nasty, belting it out on backup vocals and emitting PJ Harvey vibes, couldn’t help but laugh.

Although the band’s obvious devotees danced up a storm to funk-inspired grooves like “Devitalize” and “Got to Have It Everyday”, off Chain & the Gang’s latest record, Minimum Rock N Roll, the sparse crowd stayed shy throughout the night. “What was the last concert you guys saw?” asked Svenonius in between songs. Receiving a mostly crickets response, he commented, “Ah, secretive. That’s okay, you hold your cards close to your chest. I respect that.”

Maybe it was Vancouver’s infamous aloofness, or maybe it was Chain & the Gang’s admittedly repetitive repertoire—there are only so many times you can bop to the same retro two-tone beat. But at least Svenonius and Co. could pride themselves on delivering with gusto exactly what they promised: “antiliberty minimum rock ’n’ roll”. And to the hard-core fan in the checkered mod suit whom the band thanked and danced with after the show, that was all that really mattered.