A Fig Dish reunion probably wasn’t on many Bingo cards for 2024. The long-latent Chicago alterna-rockers who birthed solid '90s-era songs like “Seeds” have been largely lost to time since they dissipated in 1998, a fading reference that comes up once in a blue moon alongside Veruca Salt, Urge Overkill and Triple Fast Action in the discourse of the city’s ‘90s music scene.
But there are those who remember the debaucherous concerts at Lounge Ax and the infamous Halloween nights at Double Door and have continued to repeat plays of the incredibly over-the-top video for “When Shirts Get Tight” and have held out hope Fig Dish would maybe someday resurrect.
Among them was local DIY label Forge Again Records, which pushed to put out the band’s first new album in 27 years, “Feels Like the Very First Two Times,” coming Sept. 6.
The 12-track record, led by the punchy, rock melodies of “Burn Bright for Now” and “The Ragged Ones,” is a collection of never-before-heard songs the bandmates originally wrote and recorded in their ‘90s heyday, in anticipation for a third record that never materialized — until now.
When the news of the album broke in June, coupled with the announcement of Fig Dish’s first shows in over a decade (at GMan Tavern Sept. 5 and 6), it should’ve come as no surprise there would be a demand for it all, especially as nostalgia has been selling like crazy since the pandemic.
Yet, guitarist-vocalist Blake Smith was still taken aback by the swift response by fans who have come out of the woodwork.
“I’ll be curious to see who’s at these shows because the tickets sold out in like an hour,” he shares in a recent Zoom call alongside guitarist-vocalist Rick Ness and bassist-vocalist Mike Willison. (Drummer Andy Hamilton is also back on board but was not available for the conversation.) “We know who didn’t buy them: our friends who have been saying, 'Can you get us into the show?'"
Ness jokingly adds. “I think they underestimated us.”
That’s been a strong part of the Fig Dish storyline ever since the members, who met as students at Glenview’s Glenbrook South High School, got together in 1990 over a love of The Replacements and Hüsker Dü.
Fig Dish started playing for friends at backyard parties, which soon led to gigs at North Side clubs like Metro, and in a few years, they found themselves swooped up in the obsessive label scouting of the decade as every A&R rep from the coasts zeroed in on Chicago to find the next Nirvana.
After some harebrained ideas failed miserably (like playing a set of all Neil Diamond covers at an important label showcase or forging testimonial letters packed in with their mailed-out demo tapes), Fig Dish eventually signed to Polygram/A&M, which released two albums that became cult classics, 1995’s “That’s What Love Songs Often Do” and 1997’s “When Shove Goes Back To Push” before ultimately dropping the group after growing tired of the antics — even if the tomfoolery made them legends in their own circle.
Thirty years later, could Fig Dish find a new wave of momentum to keep them active and producing new material?
“We’d like to do brand-new songs, we have a bunch of them. … I have been pushing for this for a few years, gently nudging these ass- - - -s,” Smith jokes.
“You’re not the only person who thinks it’s a good idea to make new songs, you’re just the one who keeps talking about it,” Willison lovingly counters. The idea would be to have Forge Again re-release the two early Polygram records and then ideally put out an EP or LP of new works.
All of the band members (who splintered off into side projects like Caviar, The Prairie Cartel and Ness after the demise of Fig Dish) still write songs, even as their lives and careers have taken them in different directions.
Willison has moved to Portland, Oregon, where he works in the wine industry; Ness is in Madison, Wisconsin, where he teaches at the University of Wisconsion; Smith is still living on the North Side of Chicago, where he’s been involved as a global music director and brand partnership lead for Hard Rock Hotels & Casinos and Virgin.
“I still completely follow the local scene,” Smith says. “I think it’s as vibrant as it’s been in a long time and feels like how we came up in the '90s. … There’s been a really cool passing of the baton going on.”
