By Jae-Ha Kim
Chicago Sun-Times
August 28, 1992
As Michael McDermott sips a cold mug of beer at Harrington’s Pub, a wide smiles spreads across his face. McDermott used to play acoustic guitar here not too long ago, and he feels a tad weird today lounging like the customer he is.
“It’s funny, because the days when you’re kind of eking out a living are really awful at the time, but in retrospect they seem kind of romantic,” McDermott says. Laughing, he adds, “Then reality sets in and I remember the horror of it all!”
Like when the native Chicagoan had to park on his sister’s couch because he was too poor to rent his own place. Or finding a small apartment he could afford but having to play catch-the-cockroach with his multi-legged roommates.
While he’s got a ways to go before he becomes a household name outside of the McDermott household, the 24-year-old singer-songwriter has a comfortable lifestyle, thanks to a recording contract with Giant/Reprise. McDermott now lives in a swank apartment complex on the North Side that he loves, but where he says he doesn’t really fit in.
“Everyone looks like trust fund babies, and then there’s me,” says McDermott, who is dressed in a T-shirt, black jeans and a biker bandana. “Even the doorman doesn’t recognize me most of the time. People kind of look at me suspiciously, like I might try to rob them or something. And I’m thinking I’m just a kid from the Midwest.”
He’s a kid from the suburbs who quotes freely from the works of Allen Ginsberg, Walt Whitman and Jack Kerouac. He writes music, plays guitar and sings earnest songs that sound poetic on record and almost harsh live. But when he’s referred to as a musician, McDermott stammers, saying he doesn’t know enough about music theory to qualify as one.
Tell that to the Washington Post, Details, the New York Times or any other publication that raved about his debut LP “620 W. Surf” last year. McDermott will dismiss those as nice write-ups, but not particularly meaningful. The pieces that stick out in his mind are the ones that irk him.
“I understand if somebody doesn’t like the way I phrase words, or sing them, or play guitar,” says McDermott, who’ll play tonight at the China Club. “But sometimes they pick on things that have no bearing on anything.”
One story that still stands out is a Rolling Stone piece that compared McDermott’s plaintive songwriting to multi-millionaire-everyman Bruce Springsteen, and his youthful good looks to New Kids on the Block cutie Jordan Knight. McDermott was mortified, even though he knew the comparisons were meant to be complimentary.
“The worst part of it was that when MTV did a little segment on me, it showed me on a split screen with Jordan Knight,” says McDermott. “It was horrible. I was so embarrassed.”
His new stubbly face should put an end to the New Kid comparisons. Springsteen is another matter, but McDermott’s harder-rocking sound won’t be revealed until next year when his second album is released. He’s confident that the toughening of his vocal chops after nine months of touring will be evident on the new record.
“Jack Kerouac once said that every story he wrote was true because he believed in what he saw,” says McDermott. “I try to apply the same principle. You can’t manipulate the truth.”
