by Anna Solomon (@chateau.fiasco)
Looking at the cover for The Chives’ sophomore album Supervision, a black and white photo with the members sprawled out and lying across each other, all I can think of is Jet’s Get Born. Perhaps not the most well-respected album twenty years out, but I can’t think of any other album that inspired five-year-old me to yell about a “Cold Hard Bitch.” That’s gotta count for something.
I draw this comparison, not only because of the throwback bluesy swagger that defines much of both albums, but also because I know my dad would have loved The Chives in the early 2000s, and I know he would have loved it less when I started yelling “CLICK CLICK CLICK! Suckin on my Dick!” from the backseat of his Mazda6 on the way to the 3 Magaritas family Mexican restaurant. That’s opener “Incognito Window” wasting no time to show what the irreverent Boston ten-piece is about. By some accounts, they’re all siblings hoping to raise money to buy their grandfather a prostitute, since “papa hasn't gotten pussy since nam.” By other accounts, they feature members of bands such as Blue Ray, Brittle Brian, @, Squitch, and The Calendars. Whoever they may be, they’ve delivered a surprisingly diverse garage rock ride that pulls from the 70s, early 2000s, and now.
Generally, the more upbeat punk tracks are the ones that stick out the most, whether this be the aforementioned “Incognito Window,” or lead-off single “Labontes Auto School.” The production is rough and scuzzy, with guitars that blare like they’re plugged directly into a cheap stereo. The Chives make great use of their four-guitar line-up on songs like the desert-rock drivers “I’m a Fruit” and “Crawling Free,” the latter of which feels like early 2000s Queens of the Stone Age attempting indie surf pop. That’s not to mention moments that border on Iron Maiden levels of dual shredding.
Certain songs work as sufficiently serious classic rock-style cuts, with “Bite You” in particular having a great strut to it. However, most songs in this vein drop any semblance of seriousness, like “Boogie Man,” “9V Love,” or especially “All Greased Up,” which describes a “gorgeous guy” with slicked back hair whose love of his car goes beyond what even most driving obsessed Americans would consider respectable. For an album where the appeal is built on raucous energy, The Chives do their best to shake things up. “Hardcore Baptists” starts as a particularly interesting diversion, with its open-ended arpeggios and disquieting vocals, and by the end it’s another crunchy rocker about murdering homophobic Baptists.
It is the case however that most of Supervision’s best ideas are packed at the front-end of the record, and it can run longer than it really needs to. The Deep Purple-esque solo jam on “Chives Go to Heaven” or the glitchy break in “Teeth for Sale” don’t do enough to prevent them from sounding a lot like cuts from earlier on, even if both songs are solid on their own. Even then, it’s unlikely you won’t find something to love, or at the very least be entertained by on Supervision. The Chives have grown, if not necessarily matured, in both line-up and sound since their 2020 self-titled debut, but they haven’t lost the youthful exuberance and raw production that made that album work. If you’re looking to bang your head, have a laugh, light up a joint, or any combination of the three, you know what record to crank up.