Their background, their whole musical aesthetic is totally–to borrow from Green Day–“Jesus of Surburbia,” but Fall Out Boy definitely has left “A Light On In Chicago.”
The band’s personality was formed as much in Chicago’s rock scene as it was in the placidity of the ‘burbs.
Joe Trohman, Pete Wentz, Andy Hurley and Patrick Stump immersed themselves in hard-core punk and metalcore, playing together and separately in bands such as Arma Angelus and Racetraitor.
Now the champions of all square pegs return to Chicago for sold-out shows at the UIC Pavilion on April 19 and May 15 as conquering heroes after reaching double platinum with “From Under the Cork Tree” and earning a Grammy nomination.
They’re darlings of MTV’s “Total Request Live,” and their profile is high with a new album set for late 2006. But stardom hasn’t led them to forget their fans. Wentz is adamant about keeping their shows affordable.
“Definitely, we could have played a different venue than we signed” for the upcoming UIC shows, Wentz said. Because of floor space, “we could keep ticket prices lower at the Pavilion than going somewhere else.”
He and his bandmates remember frequenting and playing Chicago haunts such as Metro and Fireside Bowl.
That seems like ages ago, but it’s been only six years since the band started touring. No matter how long they’re away, though, Chicago is still on their minds.
“Chicago’s one of those things,” said Stump, who is building a house with a studio in the suburbs. “My family has been in Chicago since the early 1800s. It’s kind of like culturally I’m more Chicago than Irish or German or any of that crap.
“Chicago is home, like, definitely home.”
NEVER FAR FROM HOME
Food and rock, these are a couple of Fall Out Boy’s favorite things from Chicago.
The band’s members were regulars at hot spots like the Metro and the underground rock haven Fireside Bowl. Pete Wentz is a die-hard Fireside phile.
“It was like our CBGBs,” Wentz says, referring to New York’s legendary punk magnet. “Fall Out Boy definitely played there. I played there with multiple other bands, and I saw a ton of bands there.”
The boys’ other Chicago favorites:
– “I miss somebody else knowing what Casimir Pulaski Day is,” Stump says.
– The Pick Me Up Cafe in Lakeview, a good spot for late-night vegan food.
– Diversey River Bowl (or Rock ‘N Bowl as Wentz knew it), where they played punk rock on Monday nights.
– Noodles in the Pot on Halsted Street, Trohman’s haunt.
– Wentz skated in downtown Evanston’s fountain and rode his skateboard “pretty much everywhere in Wilmette. After 9 p.m., I kind of felt like I was the king of every street in the town.” [P.T.]
The worrier
If there’s any doubt that Fall Out Boy is equal parts protector and patron saint of misfit underdogs, look no further than Joe Trohman, 21, of Winnetka. The band’s guitarist worries about being out of shape, then worries that “I worry more about how I look than I should.”
Trohman can be as forthright as he is self-effacing.
He freely talks about veering off the straight-edge path, a hard-core rock subculture that holds to keeping the body free of drugs, alcohol or other “poisons.”
Trohman’s father, Richard, says his son’s heavy partying was typical of someone that age. “I was young once, too,” he says. “He keeps it in control.”
The elder Trohman remembers Joe and Wentz, buddies from their teen years, as hard workers who practiced in his attic before an arena tour.
“Joe did play guitar for hours upon hours from age 8 or 9,” his father says. “He got good fast. … Joe would wake up in the middle of night and start playing.” [P.T.]
The singer
What it’s a name? In Patrick Stump’s case, one fewer letter. The 21-year-old frontman and lead guitarist from Glenview dropped the “h” from his last name because he got tired of people adding an “f” sound. “It’s a word,” he says. “I’m pretty easygoing.”
Stump realizes changing his name doesn’t mean he has control of how he or his band are labeled.
“I don’t think I really try to define myself,” Stump says. “I have as much choice in being called a punk pop band as I have being called a short white kid.”
Stump’s mother, Patricia Vaughn, marvels at her son’s empathy for the underdog. Remember the “Dance, Dance” video when Stump gets shot down by a girl? “The move, that shrug of shoulder–that’s the kid I can relate to,” she says.
“His older brother refers to him as our little Philip Seymour Hoffman,” she says. “He’s still the same little nerdy guy he was in high school.”
One thing he’s not, though, is second banana to Wentz.
“Patrick is the sound of Fall Out Boy,” Vaughn says. “He’s the guy that hears it, and Pete presents it. The combination of the two is the perfect storm.”
For those scoring at home, this is how Fall Out Boy creates its music: Wentz writes the majority of the lyrics (Stump and other members contribute) and gives them to Stump, who builds melodies and choruses. The two collaborators take the skeleton of a song to Trohman and Hurley, who add guitar and drums and help refine it. [P.T.]
The spaz
Like his bandmates, drummer Andy Hurley, 25, of Menomenee Falls, Wis., was the type to go against the grain in high school.
He had to deal with deaths in his family and face ridicule.
“I think he had a lot of anger in him as a youngster,” says his mother, Ann Hurley. “He was afraid to become close to people. A band to him was safe and was a family that wouldn’t leave him.”
Hurly remembers throwing parties when his mom wasn’t home. When he was about 12, he fell in with friends who smoked marijuana and drank alcohol, but he quit doing both at 14 after going straight edge.
Hurley says he “definitely [has] a voice” in the band, but admits he’s shy publicly.
“Pete’s the forgetful one. Patrick pretty much always is listening to music. On his computer. Out loud. In groups of people. As if we always want to hear it, which is fine, it’s funny. Joe is always pretty much playing video games,” he says.
And Hurley?
“Me? I can be the spaziest one. … I’ll walk into a room and just yell for no reason. Just because the tour is so long, you get a little crazy.” [P.T.]
The guy from Wilmette
Pete Wentz’s parents, Pete and Dale, remember all his clothing styles and hair colors–Dad not-so-fondly recalls the “robin’s egg blue” hair–but that could classify as the good ol’ normal days.
The parents are no longer shocked to field calls from strangers at 2 a.m., or fans leaving cookies and gifts on the front doorsteps of their Wilmette home.
By the way, did we mention 26-year-old Pete still lives with his parents when he’s not on the road?
“People whisper in your ear and tell you you’re the best thing since sliced bread,” he says. “It’s great when you can go home to a place and people treat you like Pete Wentz from Wilmette.”
Wentz huffs that the media makes much ado about such things, “whether it’s that I live at home or whether I write the lyrics and Patrick sings them. … We don’t party and do drugs. We’re all 5-feet-8 inches. So many things that to me are intensely ordinary.”
Wait long enough, and Wentz will tell some extraordinary stories.
Such as the recent, infamous “Wentz exposed” photo flap. Some photos Wentz snapped of a certain body part over a year ago found their way onto the Internet.
“What inspired the picture-taking moment?” Wentz laughs. “Well, you know I’m just a dirty boy from the suburbs of Chicago I guess. … There’s one inspiration, and she has a name that probably shouldn’t be printed in the paper.”
Wentz brushes off suggestions that the photo op was a publicity stunt.
“Here’s my reaction to that: Check the front of my car from where I crashed into a car … in front of mine when I saw the pictures were on the Internet. And then, two, I think I probably could take more flattering pictures than that–had I known I would be sending them out to 2 or 3 million people.” [P.T.]
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PLTHOMPSON@TRIBUNE.COM
