Putting the Dream in Siamese Dream: Fruit Bats Revisit the Classic 1993 Smashing Pumpkins Album

Not all cover albums are great but Eric D. Johnson used his early lockdown days to reimagine the alternative landmark record

There was no band more important to me from the mid to late nineties than the Smashing Pumpkins.

I was all in on the Seattle grunge sound, but it was Chicago’s group of misfits led by a nasally, sneering frontman that spoke to the specific kind of angst I was experiencing.

While their debut Gish was a masterclass in alternative roots, I was a bit too young to know about it when it was released. When the band issued the follow-up Siamese Dream in 1993, the Pumpkins were unavoidable on MTV and Clear Channel’s “alternative” radio stations. With “Cherub Rock,” “Today,” “Rocket,” and “Disarm,” the band hit the stardom they had been destined to reach since garnering mega-buzz a few years prior.

One day while getting into my parent’s van after baseball practice, I noticed a CD copy of Siamese Dream lying in the parking lot. Familiar with the singles on the radio, the iconic disc art told me I had to pick it up. Somehow it wasn’t scratched to shreds -though I would eventually wear the thing out by taking it everywhere in my Discman.

It was the start of a Smashing Pumpkins obsession as I collected everything I could get my hands on throughout the nineties (I acquired the sensational double-disc follow-up Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness in a more regular fashion when my dad bought it for my birthday, maxing out all the cool parent points).

I’d follow the band longer than most through Machina, but my tastes continued to evolve, and I lost interest after James Iha, and Jimmy Chamberlain left the band.

Time hasn’t been kind to Billy Corgan as his quips became less funny and more nauseating as I grew older. It didn’t help when he appeared on InfoWars and continued to release albums under the band name that was most certainly not Smashing Pumpkins albums. I did enjoy his Paws Chicago magazine cover, though.

My last Pumpkins experience was during their 2018 arena tour. Advertising that Iha and Chamberlain were back and with ticket availability in abundance, I took my wife, who most definitely doesn’t have the same nostalgia blast for the band. As we sat watching the band slog through a three-hour set that included multiple costume changes and a Guns N’ Roses cover, I regretted not going to see Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever, who was most certainly playing a better show at a club a few blocks away.

Bitten by the dangerous nostalgia bug, I concluded my Smashing Pumpkins yarn.

I’ve written about Fruit Bats a few times since starting Checking This Out! - I placed Eric D. Johnson’s Bonny Light Horseman project in my Top 40 last year and reviewed the excellent The Pet Parade earlier this year.

For the last sixteen years, I’ve looked forward to each Fruit Bats release, so when I read about Johnson recording an entire album of Siamese Dream covers, my interest piqued.

Recorded during the early lockdown, the Fruit Bats’ version was initially only available in a limited vinyl pressing. This past Friday, it became available on streaming services for the first time, and Johnson has done a fantastic job of taking an album that millions have heard hundreds of times and making it his own.

On the Fruit Bats Instagram, Johnson shared his memories of the album:

“In 1993, I was the prime age to be swept up in alternative radio. But truth be told, while I loved Nirvana and Jane’s Addiction, in my heart I was still secretly wearing a hole in my cassette copy of Steve Miller Band’s Greatest Hits (1974–78). Somehow, Smashing Pumpkins spoke to all sides of me—angsty on the surface but really filled with a kind of Midwest mysticism that spoke directly to my 17-year-old-kid-from-Illinois brain. It’s also the first tape I ever listened to while driving a long distance alone. I’m pretty sure my version of this album is based on subconscious memories of that drive. I played all the instruments on this. And no, of course I’m not going to be able to recreate Billy Corgan’s crushing, epic guitar tone. Nor could I dream of touching Jimmy Chamberlin’s floaty (yet ever-shredding) drumming. This version is all about hazy memories for me, and how Corgan’s brilliant pop hooks can travel through time and exist in any possible instrumental configuration.”

On Siamese Dream, “Cherub Rock” immediately hits the listener over the head with a signature drum line from Chamberlain. On his version, Johnson nods to this but subverts expectations by focusing more on the vocals and lyrics with sparse piano chords, bass drums, and shakers filling in the silence behind.

“Quiet” is also one of the heavier songs on the album. Still, here Johnson completely deletes the driving Big Muff guitars in favor of drum machines and airy keyboard riffs that make the track sound like something playing in the background on the boardwalk while riding The Cyclone. Clocking in at just over a minute, it’s a fine example of taking creative ownership of someone else’s song.

Of course, “Today” is one of two songs that everyone is familiar with on Siamese Dream. It’s a classic teen anthem that Johnson artfully turns into an acoustic cover. Abandoning the signature intro in favor of brushes and Mellotron, Johnson focuses on the angsty lyrics, giving them a delicate foundation that could have come off like an eye-rolling open mic night but is successfully heartfelt instead.

One of the qualities that made the Pumpkins stand out above the rest of the grunge scene for me was their psychedelic base. With “Hummer,” Johnson explores this idea turning the song into a jammy little folk stomper. It’s one of my favorites on the original album, and this version stands out on this covers album. “Rocket” is similarly successful in that if I wouldn’t have known about the original track, I would have assumed it was a Fruit Bats song.

“Disarm” is the other song that dominated the airwaves. Johnson deletes all of the black and white melodrama from the MTV hit and fills and instead fills it with kaleidoscopic keyboards and an upbeat drum machine.

For as many singles were on the a-side of Siamese Dream, the “mellower” second half has always been my favorite run on the album. This starts with “Soma,” a break-up classic in which Johnson seems more inspired by the piano piece that Mike Mills of R.E.M. played on the original than the distortion-filled Corgan vision. “Geek U.S.A.” is also an interesting exercise in removing the brutal guitar riffs and pummeling drums, instead electing to primarily focus on the lyrics as Johnson sings from the bottom of a well with eerie swells.

Billy Corgan has always gotten the full media attention, but the truth is that Jimmy Chamberlin and James Iha are the secret weapons that made the Pumpkins work. The albums made since their departure are concrete evidence of this.

“Mayonaise” is a track written by Iha that is probably my favorite song in their catalog, sometimes duking it out with “Muzzle” and “Thru the Eyes of Ruby.” On the original recording, there is this signature feedback whistling break in each guitar pause that supposedly happened because Corgan was playing a crappy guitar during the recording. Johnson’s new version filled me with joy when instead of easily skipping this detail, instead fills the gap with “oohs.”

“Spaceboy” is a song in which Corgan foresaw the future of the private billionaire space race, singing “spaceboy don’t kill me.” Johnson plays this one most straightforward to the original of all of the songs, and it works marvelously. Performing with an acoustic guitar, light bass, and a tambourine reminds me of the versions of these songs that the Pumpkins explored on Vieuphoria, a VHS staple amongst my friends and me.

“Silverfuck” has its runtime cut significantly here, which works for me in 2021 compared to the ramblings Corgan used to embrace on the live versions of this song. “Sweet Sweet” has always been a little oddity that separated the Smashing Pumpkins from the rest of the pack, a seed demonstrating they were open to exploring other musical territories on their later albums, and Johnson keeps the same spirit.

Finally, “Luna” is my other favorite track from Siamese Dream with its lush guitars and Mellotron. For the Fruit Bats version, Johnson creates a campfire singalong that fits in with the rest of his catalog.

I give Siamese Dream and Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness a spin once or twice a year but thoroughly enjoy the sunlight that Eric D. Johnson has placed on this landmark album. It’s a refreshing attempt at simplifying a record that initially has so many moving pieces. By making the songs more accessible, Johnson has shown the brilliance of the originals and why Smashing Pumpkins are one of the most important bands of the nineties.

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