King Sparrow’s music belies its size. The group comprises only three members, but sounds like a marching band stomping through the listener’s ear canal. The band accomplishes this minor feat with a heavy mesh of guitar, drums and bass injected with a shot of inertia and adrenaline.

Bassist Sean Price, guitarist Eric Georgevich and drummer John McGeown all attended Lane Technical High School where they played in a band together, but went their separate ways after graduation. Nearly nine years later, Georgevich ran into Price at The Globe Pub and struck up a conversation with him. The two soon decided it was time to start making music again and called McGeown to make the duo a trio.

The Chronicle recently interviewed Georgevich to see how the band has done since they reunited.

The Chronicle: Why do you call yourselves King Sparrow?

Eric Georgevich: Well, we needed a name for our first show. As I think most bands do, you kind of get pushed into coming up with a name. We liked the idea of big fish in a small pond, but I guess King Sparrow is another way of explaining that same idea. You can be a big sparrow, king of the sparrows and then some eagle or crow comes and just knocks you in your place. We were juggling a bunch of names, The Rakes were taken. Most of the names we liked were taken and apparently there’s a Calypso King Sparrow—actually he goes by Mighty Sparrow, but people call him King Sparrow, too.

The Chronicle: There’s like a million bands in Chicago, so what makes your band  unique?

EG: Well, the main thing is our goal to not follow the trends and kind of stick to what Sean, Eric and John like. We’re super tight, and I think one thing most people note is that we’re only a three piece, but we sound a lot fuller. We don’t sound like a three piece. I think when we play live, that’s the one thing that’s first brought to most people’s attention. We just keep the songs simple without excess fluff. We have a good formula there.

The Chronicle: When people come to your live shows, how do you want them to react?

EG: I like it best when people can’t start talking to their buddy next to them. Everybody is transfixed on us on stage, and so far, that seems to be the reaction. We want you to look at us when we’re playing on stage and we’re not jumping around—it’s nothing inauthentic like that. You can feel intensity, which is what we’re going for.

The Chronicle: Have you had anything terrible but funny happen to you?

EG: When we recorded our EP, I was really sick. I had a super high fever—it was 102— but we had scheduled that weekend to do the EP. So I was gargling whiskey, drinking tea and whiskey, but I had to bear through it. It sounded OK though. A couple of days later I lost my voice completely.

The Chronicle: I didn’t know gargling whiskey would do that?

EG: I didn’t either. I was desperate, but it seemed to have worked—killed whatever was in my throat I guess. I came home and just sat in the tub for an hour or two exhausted, but at least it sounds like me and not someone else.

The Chronicle: Do you feel like the modern punk scene is healthy?

EG: I guess I feel like it’s branched out into smaller niches. A few of my friends play in crust punk bands, and I’ve been to a bunch of grind core. I think that punk has, it’s not like pop punk that’s mainstream now. I think that it’s just going back to the smaller DIY scene. These bands that are really not worried about getting big or anything. It’s different. It’s different than the punk shows I used to go to, but I’m sure there are still a bunch of shows like that. I think that it’s a lot smaller or just more diversified into small niches.