Bill Callahan returned to Chicago on Monday for his second concert of the year in this city. Both of his 2013 Chicago concerts, presented by Land and Sea Dept., have been at unconventional venues. In May, he performed at Garfield Park Conservatory. This time, he played at Alhambra Palace, a cavernous Middle Eastern restaurant on Randolph Street with ornate decor, including lush red curtains. The stage is flanked by a couple of Lamassu.
There’s little, if anything, Middle Eastern about Callahan’s music, and the grandiose surroundings created a strange contrast with Callahan’s laconic personality. And yet, even though Callahan’s songs can seem modest and simple on first listen, they’re often miniature epics — and ornate in their own peculiar way.
The last time Callahan was in Chicago, he didn’t play any new songs, despite the fact that he was on the verge of releasing a new album, Dream River, the follow-up to his 2011 masterpiece Apocalypse. It’s another beautiful and compellingly odd collection of songs from Callahan; as the title indicates, there’s a drifting, dreamlike atmosphere this time. (The new record has prompted some great press coverage, including this feature story by Spin.)
Callahan played every song from the new album during his Alhambra Palace show. The live arrangements didn’t include any of that jazzy flute from the studio versions. The emphasis shifted more toward Matt Kinsey’s guitar riffs, fills and solos. (The band also included bassist Jamie Zuverza and drummer Adam Jones as well as Kinsey, a member of the Austin roots-rock band Lil’ Cap’n Travis.) As he did on Callahan’s Apocalypse songs, Kinsey plays an invaluable role fleshing out this music. Kinsey’s ever-changing guitar melodies engage in a duet with Callahan’s vocals. There was nothing flashy — no rock-star drama — about the way Kinsey sat in his chair on Monday night, but if you played close attention to the way he was bending those strings, you could see and hear just what a remarkable performance it was.
Callahan isn’t flashy, either. As you can see from my photographs, he sings close to the microphone, rarely opening his mouth very wide. He raises his eyebrows with a quizzical look, squeezes his eyes shut with a flash of emotion, or turns his mouth down in a somewhat comical expression.
Callahan didn’t speak a whole lot in between songs, other than a few gracious comments, thanking the audience of listening. When someone in the crowd shouted out, “That song kicks ass!” (after he played “Seagull,” from the new album), Callahan replied: “There’s a merchandise table out there somewhere. If you want your ass kicked.”
SET LIST: The Sing / Javelin Unlanding / Spring / One Fine Morning / Too Many Birds / Ride My Arrow / Seagull / Drover / Summer Painter / Please Send Someone to Love Me (Percy Mayfield cover) / America / Winter Road / Small Plane
The opening act was Circuit Des Yeux, aka singer-songwriter Haley Fohr, whose set built from droning folk songs to ear-shattering primal screams.
While Sonic Youth remains on indefinite hiatus, the group’s members have been quite busy with other projects. Lee Ranaldo, who played in Millennium Park in May, was back in town on Sunday (Oct. 13) for another show with his new band, the Dust — playing this time at the Empty Bottle. The group features another member of Sonic Youth, drummer Steve Shelley, as well as guitarist Alan Licht and bassist Tim Luntzel. Following opening sets by drone artist Mykel Boyd and Doug McCombs’ instrumental band Brokeback, the Dust played a fairly long set for a late concert on a Sunday night, more than 90 minutes, stretching past 1 a.m., but it was worth staying around for the end. The group really got into a groove in that final half-hour, including a cool encore cover of the Modern Lovers’ “She Cracked.”
One of the highlights of Mark Lanegan’s enchanting concert tonight at the Old Town School of Folk Music was his performance of the classic Kurt Weill-Bertolt Brecht song “Mack the Knife,” which he recorded for his new album, the covers collection Imitations. After the concert, I was talking about that song with some friends. It has been a subject of fascination for me — how this grim ballad of murder ever became a jaunty, jazzy pop hit. Lanegan’s version ranks up there with the best, thanks to those gritty, sandpaper vocals of his. But I don’t know that there is such a thing as a definitive version of “Mack the Knife.”
For one thing, which lyrics are definitive? Marc Blitzstein’s translation is the most famous English version, but it doesn’t convey all of the terrifying details in Brecht’s original German lyrics. Here’s a translation I made myself, back when I was taking German classes. (I haven’t stayed in practice, and I’m nowhere close to fluent in German these days. Feel free to offer corrections or suggested changes.) I tried to make the translation as literal as possible.
The Ballad of Mack the Knife
And the shark, oh, it has teeth And it wears them in its face. And Macheath, he has a knife, But this knife, no one sees.
Oh, how red is the shark’s fin, when the blood flows. Mack the Knife, he wears a glove, From which no atrocity can be read.
In the Thames’ green waters, People suddenly fall. Is it either plague or cholera? No, it means Macheath’s been around.
On a beautiful blue Sunday, A dead man lies on the beach And a man goes around the corner Known as Mackie the Knife.
And Schul Meier is still missing And so many rich men, Mackie the Knife has his money, But no one can prove anything.
Jenny Towler was found With a knife in her breast, And on the dock goes Macheath, Who knows nothing at all.
Where is Alfons Gilte, the cabman? Will this ever come to light? Anyone could know. Macheath knows nothing.
And the great fire in Soho, Seven children and an old man. In the crowd, Mackie the Knife — He’s not asked and doesn’t know.
And the underaged widow Whose name everyone knows, Woke up and was raped. Mackie, what was your price?
For some are in darkness And some are in light. One sees those in light, But those in darkness, one sees not.
The original German lyrics:
Die Moritat von Mackie Messer
Und der Haifisch, der hat Zähne und die trägt er im Gesicht und Macheath, der hat ein Messer doch das Messer sieht man nicht.
Ach, es sind des Haifischs Flossen rot, wenn dieser Blut vergießt. Mackie Messer trägt ‘nen Handschuh drauf man keine Untat liest.
An der Themse grünem Wasser Fallen plötzlich Leute um! Es ist weder Pest noch Cholera Doch es heißt: Macheath geht um.
An ‘nem schönen blauen Sonntag liegt ein toter Mann am Strand und ein Mensch geht um die Ecke den man Mackie Messer nennt.
Und Schmul Meier bleibt verschwunden und so mancher reiche Mann und sein Geld hat Mackie Messer dem man nichts beweisen kann.
Jenny Towler ward gefunden mit ‘nem Messer in der Brust und am Kai geht Mackie Messer der von allem nichts gewußt.
Wo ist Alfons Gilte, der Fuhrherr? Kommt das je ans Sonnenlicht? Wer es immer wissen könnte — Mackie Messer weiß nicht.
Und das große Feuer in Soho sieben Kinder und ein Greis — in der Menge Mackie Messer, den man nicht fragt und der nichts weiß.
Und die minderjährige Witwe deren Namen jeder weiß wachte auf und war geschändet — Mackie, welches war dein Preis?
Denn die einen sind im Dunkeln und die and’ren sind im Licht, und man siehet die im Lichte, die im Dunkeln sieht man nicht.
Constellation — Mike Reed’s music and arts venue in the old Viaduct Theatre space — has been hosting some interesting concerts since opening earlier this year. So far, it’s living up to its promise as a home for music of various genres outside of the mainstream. Located on Western Avenue’s frontage street, along the stretch where the main part of Western Avenue ascends on a bridge over Belmont, Constellation has a barely noticeable sign identifying the venue. The front door could be mistaken for an entrance into a warehouse. On Thursday night (Oct. 3), the music behind that door was the elegant and spare quasi-classical, quasi-electronic, quasi-indie rock of Icelandic composer and pianist Ólafur Arnalds.
He played two sets that night in the smaller of Constellation’s two performance spaces; I caught the late show. Before he sat down at the piano, Arnalds apologized for being tired, saying he’d flown from San Diego to Chicago around 3 a.m. and had barely slept. He said he’d nodded off three times during the short interlude between his two Constellation performances. “This is a strange place for a concert,” he said, looking around the room, which has the plain, unadorned style of a music or dance rehearsal space. “It’s the smallest place we’ve played in years.” Later in the show, he remarked: “It kind of feels like playing in my living room, which is nice. … It’s like you didn’t pay 30 bucks to see me and I just invited you.” (According to Althea Legaspi’s review for the Chicago Tribune, he made similar remarks at the early concert.)
Arnalds asked the audience to sing a middle C, which he recorded and played back on his iPad, which was sitting on top of the piano. He joked that he could switch out this crowd’s vocals with a prerecorded track if he needed to, and we wouldn’t realize what he’d done — but then he praised us for doing a good job. With that “ah” sustaining in the background, Arnalds began playing the piano.
Throughout the concert, as Arnalds played songs from his latest album, For Now I Am Winter, and other recordings, he kept his hands clustered together near the middle of the keyboard. His right hand seemed to stay in the octave above Middle C, while the left hand stayed in the space just below Middle C, both playing spare, seemingly simple sequences of notes. Arnalds doesn’t appear to be striving for impressive virtuosity; rather, he’s striving to convey his melodies and musical moods in a clear, distilled form. (His website includes free downloadable sheet music of some compositions.)
Violinist Viktor Orri Árnason (of the band Hjaltalín) and cellist Rubin Kodheli accompanied Arnalds, and so did that iPad, which delivered electronic beats, ambient textures and other recorded tracks, without ever overwhelming the live performers. An extended and expressive solo by Árnason was one of the concert’s high points, leaving the strings of his bow shredded by the end. “I guess I have to buy him a new bow,” Arnalds commented.
Vocalist Arnór Dan Arnarson (of the band Agent Fresco) also joined in with the group on a few songs, singing in a high, quivering voice a bit reminiscent of Antony Hegarty. He had apparently just joined the tour. “He wasn’t supposed to be here tonight,” Arnalds said. “He just showed up.”
The audience applauded enthusiastically after Arnalds and his musicians left the room. Finally, he sleepily wandered back in. Someone in the crowd called out, “Sorry!” Arnalds remarked, “I took a while because I fell asleep … It’s very lovely to play when you haven’t slept for 24 hours.”
For his final song of the night, Arnalds played “Lag fyrir ömmu,” which means “Song for Grandma.” As he explained, the song is dedicated to his late grandmother, “the person who got me into this non-death-metal music.” Arnalds was alone now in the performance section of the room, playing on the piano without any accompaniment. Midway through the song, the sound of Árnason’s violin drifted in from the room next door. Árnason did not come back into the room, but his violin solo sounded like a voice calling from the distance. It was a beautiful and touching moment.
Thursday’s concert also included a lovely opening set by Danish singer-songwriter Lisa Alma, whose soft, meditative ballads started out the evening on a sweet note.
With his last several albums, Nick Lowe has settled into a new phase of his career: more of a mellow crooner than the pub rock and power pop guy he was during his youth. But one thing that hasn’t changed is Lowe’s ability to write perfect little songs, with smart and witty lyrics and catchy melodies, all within the bounds of what’s considered the traditional pop-song format. Lowe’s latest string of records is just adding more depth to his already deep catalog of unforgettable tunes.
Lowe was alone with his acoustic guitar on the stage Wednesday night (Oct. 2) at Space in Evanston. A few simple, strummed chords and his voice were all he needed. Well, that and his personality. What a charming and gracious fellow.
After playing his first two songs, Lowe looked down at his set list and said his “program” for the night included some of his old hits. “They are surrounded by what you might call my lesser-known pieces,” he said. “I want to apologize in advance if I don’t play your favorite.” There was no need for him to apologize, of course; yes, I can think of some favorite tunes he didn’t play, but what he did play was wonderful.
Lowe interjected some humorous asides during “Trained Her to Love Me,” in which the narrator (presumably not the real-life Nick Lowe) outlines his method of getting women to fall in love with him just so he can break their hearts. “Oh, that’s unforgivable,” Lowe said, to laughter in the crowd.
Lowe’s forthcoming release is a Christmas record, and when he introduced a song from him, he hastened to say: “I can feel you all tensing up, but don’t worry — I’m going to play you the least Christmasy tune.” And in fact, the song — “A Dollar Short of Happy,” which he co-wrote with Ry Cooder — sounded just fine in October.
Lowe added an intro with an Elvis Presley-esque flourish to “I Knew the Bride (When She Used to Rock ‘n’ Roll),” freshening up a song that had started to seem like a cliche after all of the radio play it got.
As he started his encore, Lowe remarked that Chicago was the first place where his old band Rockpile “took off,” which led him to play one of his songs with that band, “When I Write the Book.” Then came his classic, “(What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding,” which was just as touching as ever. And finally, a new song, “Tokyo Bay,” which he has been playing in concerts since last year.
SET LIST: Where’s My Everything / Heart / Long Limbed Girl / Ragin’ Eyes / Rome Wasn’t Built in a Day / She’s Got Soul / Lately I’ve Let Things Slide / Has She Got a Friend? / Trained Her to Love Me / I Live on a Battlefield / A Dollar Short of Happy / Cruel to be Kind / Raining Raining / Traveling Light / Stoplight Roses / Sensitive Man / Somebody Cares for Me / House for Sale / Without Love / I Knew the Bride (When She Used to Rock ‘n’ Roll) / ENCORE: When I Write the Book / (What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding / Tokyo Bay
Lowe’s old friend Paul Cebar opened for him Wednesday. (He also opened the last Nick Lowe concert I saw, several years ago at FitzGerald’s.) Cebar’s breezy acoustic songs were a good match with Lowe’s; he played his originals as well as a couple of covers: Magnetic Fields’ “Book of Love” and Lowe’s “Crying in My Sleep.” It’s unusual to see an opening act cover a song by the headliner, but Cebar remarked, “This is one he doesn’t do, so I can do it.” Lowe has songs to spare.
“Americana is country music for people who like the Smiths,” Billy Bragg said during his concert Friday (Sept. 17) at Space in Evanston. A witty remark, with more than a bit of truth to it. He was defending himself against some critics who expressed consternation that he has gone country with his latest record, Tooth & Nail. As he pointed out, there’s always been a bit of country in his music. But it was undeniable that a few of Bragg’s older songs are sounding more like alt-country than they did in their original incarnations, now that he’s playing them with a band that includes the twang of pedal steel guitar.
During other comments Friday, he summarized his recent article for the Guardian, which appeared under the headline, “Billy Bragg: whisper it … but the British invented Americana.” That is a bit of an exaggeration, but Bragg is correct in touting the role that Brits have played over the decades in reviving and/or revising American musical traditions.
If it isn’t already apparent, Bragg spent a hell of a lot of time talking during his concert, which he is wont to do. And Bragg might be accused of preaching to the choir, rousing his liberal listeners with his leftist lectures. (Confounded by the Tea Party’s resistance to Obamacare, Bragg said, “Nobody in my country dies for want of proper health care.”) But Bragg comes across as heartfelt, genuine and smart, and not the least bit boring as he delays his songs to engage his audience in conversation.
The songs from Tooth & Nail sounded great, especially Bragg’s Biblical sermon, “Do Unto Others.” At the midpoint of the show, Bragg’s band left the stage — for a contractually required tea break, he said — leaving Bragg alone on the stage for a mini solo concert within the concert. He took the opportunity to play almost the entirety of his 1983 recording debut, the seven-song EP Life’s a Riot with Spy Vs. Spy — every song from the record, that is, except for “A New England,” which he played later with the full band. After playing the song “Richard,” which mentions a “titanic love affair,” Bragg dedicated it to the late Jay Bennett, who played in the bands Wilco and Titanic Love Affair. And the mini-set prompted Bragg to reminisce about playing at Chicago’s Cubby Bear in 1985, where a fan sitting on a toilet in the men’s room offered to shake his hand.
Whether he’s talking about politics and singing about romance, Bragg showed once again that he’s eminently worth hearing.
Friday’s opening act, singer-songwriter Joe Purdy, entertained with his acoustic folk songs in the Dylan tradition, sardonically observing that his tunes are invariably downbeat. “And now I’m going to play another sad song,” he remarked at one point, prompting someone in the crowd to call out, “Anything happy?” He replied, “Anything happy? Yeah, the drinks I’m going to have after.”
You can count on Laura Veirs. She’s had a string of records filled with alluring songs, and her latest album (her ninth) is no exception. Warp & Weftis a strong collection, and it dominated Veirs’ concert Wednesday (Sept. 26) at Schubas. The live versions of the songs were enchanting, as Veirs and her band played delicate folk rock as well as a few more rocking numbers. These are smartly arranged songs, with guitar, violin and keyboard parts balanced to perfection. Veirs sings her notes straight and cool, with little noticeable vibrato, skipping up to the high notes with ease. Veirs switched from acoustic to electric guitar on a few songs, handling the night’s loudest guitar solos, including the rousing tribute to Alice Coltrane, “That Alice,” which closed out this delightful concert.
A member of Veirs’ band, guitarist-bassist Karl Blau, also played the opening set. Blau began his set with an unusually long spoken introduction, explaining who he is, what town he is from (Anacortes, Wash.) and what he was about to do. As he put it, he does audio experiments and then recites poetry on top of them. But even though he claimed that he wouldn’t be singing, Blau did in fact sing some pretty good melodies above his quirky percussion-bass-and-thumb-piano loops.
When you see concerts week in and week out at the same venues, you start to take them for granted. I haven’t been at Schubas much in the past year, but I’ve been back a few times this week, and it felt like returning home after a long absence. I got the sense that Will Johnson, the frontman of Denton, Texas, band Centro-matic, might be feeling something similar when his band played on the Schubas stage Monday night (Sept. 23). Midway through the set, Johnson paused to say what a pleasure it was to be playing again in “one of the most sacred, sacred” music rooms in the country. Indeed — just think of all the great music that has vibrated that wooden arch above the Schubas stage over the years.
Centro-matic is working on a new album, and the band played a bit of the new music, mixed in with songs from throughout its career. Johnson’s distinctive voice — that magically strange whine of his — was in fine form, sounding beautifully forlorn. And these four musicians have been playing together for so long that they make it look like the most natural thing in the world.
“Like the Rolling Stones, we’re getting back to our club roots,” David Thomas, the lead singer and mastermind of Pere Ubu, said Saturday night (Sept. 22) during his band’s concert at the Empty Bottle. “As you know, tomorrow we begin a string of 17 sold-out shows at Soldier Field.”
Thomas was in a talkative and quite humorous mood. This was the first time I’ve seen him spend a concert sitting down, and Thomas, who’s 60, needed some assistance walking to the stage. But even though he was seated, Thomas was in a lively mood, whether he was bashing the Americana genre (describing a typical song about some guy eating a hamburger) or observing that “for every lady that comes to a Pere Ubu show, five others (guys) come. That’s just a fact.” He reminisced about the time Pere Ubu opened for Kool and the Gang in Denmark, when that band’s stage routine taught him the importance of acknowledging the “special ladies” in the crowd.
Before Pere Ubu took the stage, there was an opening performance billed as a set by Gagarin, a British keyboard player and electronic artist who’s a member of Pere Ubu. But Gagarin wasn’t actually present in the Empty Bottle. As Bill Meyer explained in his preview article for the Chicago Reader, Thomas refused to pay the fee that the American Federation of Musicians requires to vet the merits of visa applicants, so Pere Ubu’s British members (Gagarin and guitarist Keith Moliné) had their applications denied. So, during this opening set, Thomas came onto the stage and sang into a telephone receiver while music by Gagarin was piped in via Skype. For a few surreal minutes, a man with a chicken mask covering his head (I believe that was Pere Ubu synth/theremin player Robert Wheeler) came onto the stage and hovered near Thomas, like an apparition conjured by his brain.
During the main Pere Ubu set, Thomas was joined onstage by Wheeler, drummer Steve Mehlman, bassist Michele Temple and substitute guitarist Dave Cintron. The band’s lean, taut synth/guitar lines left space for Thomas’ distinctive voice, as Pere Ubu played old songs such as “Heaven,” “Vacuum in my Head” and “Goodnight Irene” as well as several selections from its strong new record Lady From Shanghai (the group’s 17th studio album in 35 years). The website for this album proclaims: “Smash the hegemony of dance. Stand Still. The dancer is puppet to the dance. It’s past time somebody puts and end to this abomination. Lady From Shanghai is an album of dance music fixed.”
Pere Ubu closed its set with an unabashedly commercial plea, singing a ditty that Thomas called the “march of mercy,” which encourage audience members to visit the merch table and buy stuff. I did just that, picking up the new album as well as a 100-page book that Thomas wrote about the making of Lady From Shanghai — a sort of extended set of liner notes called Chinese Whispers.
Pere Ubu played on a night with a lot of great concerts to choose from in Chicago; @pkmonaghan tweeted that Steve Earle, one of the other artists playing last night, “is a fucking American treasure.” True — and so is David Thomas, in his own odd way.
With its new album, Era, the Chicago band Disappears continues to make loud, churning kraut rock with an unsettled, occasionally menacing air about it. On its previous record, Pre Language, the group moved a bit away from epic-length drones and jams and more toward concise rock songs. The new record tilts back in the old direction… or maybe it just shows the band finding a middle ground between song structure and full-on sonic assault? In any case, Disappears’ new and old songs sounded powerful when the group played them Friday (Sept. 20) at the Empty Bottle. Since last year, ex-Sonic Youth drummer Steve Shelley has departed from Disappears, but his replacement, Noah Leger of Electric Hawk and Anatomy of Habit, made an appropriately thunderous noise.
Speaking of thunder, the middle band on the lineup, Weekend, played an equally fierce set, finishing its final song with about 30 seconds of hair-raisingly dramatic crescendo. It was quite an end to an impressive performance.
The Chicago band Outside World started off the evening, beginning its set with shoegaze-style drone but eventually settling into a series of tuneful rock songs. It was the first time I’d heard Outside World; they’re a band that’ll be worth watching.
I’ve never been in a riot I’ve never been in a fight I’ve never been in anything That turns out right
— Mekons, “Never Been in a Riot”
The only thing I saw at Riot Fest that came close to an actual riot was the young guys slam dancing amid the middle-aged Replacements fans on Sunday night. Or maybe the squeals of delight and grasping arms of all those teenage girls and 20ish women who’d thronged a barricade to watch the young men of the pop-punk band All Time Low might qualify as quasi-riotous.
Riot or not, which I wrote about earlier). But Riot Fest featured plenty of other noteworthy bands, including a number of iconic punk, post-punk and new wave acts who have been playing since the 1990s, ’80s or even the ’70s.
Joan Jett
Joan Jett & the Blackhearts were the high point on Friday; even their new songs sounded good, though the crowd clearly wanted to hear the old hits, which Jett and her band delivered in style. The other bands that I caught on Friday — Screeching Weasel, Bad Religion, GWAR and Danzig — didn’t interest me as much, but I was impressed by Bad Religion’s ferocity. I stayed out of the way when GWAR began spraying fake blood at the crowd. See more photos from Day 1.
X
Saturday was filled with strong sets by “oldies” acts including an intense early-afternoon performance by X.
Dinosaur Jr.
Dinosaur Jr. jammed out in the afternoon sun, closing its set with a great cover of the Cure’s “Just Like Heaven.”
Guided By Voices
Guided By Voices’ Robert Pollard looked tipsy as he came onstage, quickly chugging down some whisky, but as soon as the band started playing, he was kicking up his leg and twirling his microphone cord in classic GBV style.
Former members of the punk band Black Flag announced, “This is not Black Flag — this is Flag” … and then proceeded to play a bunch of Black Flag songs, prompting youngsters to crowd-surf.
Blondie
Led by a warlock-outfit-wearing Debbie Harry, Blondie inspired some swooning by the band’s longtime fans. The old hits sounded good, even if the newer tunes and deeper cuts were less distinguished.
Public Enemy
Public Enemy gave one of the weekend’s most galvanizing performances, with Chuck D and Flavor Flav jumping in tandem to the group’s political hip-hop anthems. (The area near the stage was so jampacked that I found myself caught in a dangerous crush of people when we photographers had to leave the photo pit.)
The Violent Femmes opened their concert with their biggest hits — which seemed like an odd choice, until it became clear that the group was playing the entirety of its 1983 self-titled debut album in sequence. And it just so happens that the record starts off with the group’s best-known songs. The Femmes played faithful versions of those tracks, prompting the crowd to sing along, but the show seemed to lose energy later on.
Rain came pouring down on Sunday, dampening the spirit at Riot Fest, but the music went on. I showed up in time to catch the last few songs by Mission of Burma, including a solid rendition of “That’s When I Reach for My Revolver.” A bit later, Bob Mould played one of the festival’s most intense sets, joined by Superchunk drummer Jon Wurster and Chicago bassist Jason Narducy (who’s also in the touring version of Superchunk) — an ideal lineup to play the crunchy post-punk power pop of Mould’s solo albums and his recordings with Sugar. Mould told the crowd that he’s coming back to Chicago soon to make a new album.
AFI
Other highlights on Sunday included Rocket From the Crypt, who made a joyous racket as the downpour continued. I was less familiar with some of the younger bands that I saw, including Against Me!, Brand New, All Time Low and AFI, all of whom inspired fervent responses from their fans. AFI bounced around on the stage so much that it felt a bit like watching a post-punk version of Riverdance; it all seemed too choreographed. (I skipped seeing some of Riot Fest’s other bands entirely, including Friday’s headliner Fall Out Boy and Saturday’s headliner Blink-182. Not a fan of either.)
Twin Peaks
I did greatly enjoy the rainy midafternoon set by Chicago’s Twin Peaks. They might have been the youngest band playing the whole weekend, but their excellent lo-fi home recording Sunkenshows that they know some garage-rock history. Their exuberant performance at Riot Fest included at least one new song as well as a cover of They Might Be Giants’ “Boss of Me” (the theme to the TV series Malcolm in the Middle).
Pixies
The rain cleared up by the time darkness fell, though the ground was still muddy in many places, including the goopy photo pit in front of the Roots Stage, where Pixies played the weekend’s penultimate set. This is the first time the band has gone out on the road since founding bassist and backup singer Kim Deal quit. She was replaced by Kim Shattuck of the Muffs. If anything, Deal’s absence may have reduced the onstage tension that was apparent at some previous shows. With lights shining behind them and their faces shrouded in darkness, Pixies opened their set with two covers: The Fall’s “Big New Prinz” and the Jesus and Mary Chain’s “Head On.” But by the time the Pixies were inspiring a crowd sing-along with “Wave of Mutilation,” I was heading over to the Riot Stage to get in line for the Replacements photo pit. It’s too bad you couldn’t hear the Pixies from over there; I would have loved to hear more of their set, but it was time to snag a spot for the Mats.
For some reason that I cannot recall, I did not see the Replacements when I had a chance to see them play at a small club, Mabel’s in Champaign, circa 1986. I was a student at the University of Illinois, a fan of ’60s music just beginning to discover that there was such a thing as new bands making cool records. The Replacements had just released their terrific album Tim, and I had just discovered the band. I vaguely remember having some lame excuse for not going to that show … not having enough cash for the measly cover charge, or maybe having too much homework. Something like that. Looking back, it’s one of the concerts I most regret missing.
Luckily, I did get to see the Mats a couple of times before they broke up: one show at the Aragon, and then the 1991 concert that turned out to be the final Replacements gig ever — until now, anyway — when they finished unceremoniously, handing their instruments over to their roadies on the Petrillo Bandshell stage in Chicago’s Grant Park. As I recall, both of those shows were pretty good, but I felt like I’d missed the real Replacements — the earlier lineup of the band, which was famous for playing sloppy, drunken, raucous but often brilliant gigs. Maybe I was just feeling envious of the people who could say, “I saw them back then.”
When the Replacements made the surprise announcement that they were reuniting for three Riot Fest concerts in Toronto, Chicago and Denver, it wasn’t the least bit surprising that people immediately started debating whether this was really the Replacements. True, this is not the same band that played those legendary gigs, like the one captured on the “official bootleg,” The Shit Hits the Fans. And no one has a time machine to take us back to one of those gigs. But this was the Replacements’ driving force, singer-songwriter-guitarist Paul Westerberg, reuniting with another original member, bassist Tommy Stinson, and playing Mats songs. So what if the other musicians (drummer Josh Freese and guitarist Dave Minehan) were new guys?
If you had any doubts that this was actually the Replacements, they should’ve been erased by the sight and sound of these guys onstage Sunday night at Riot Fest (Sept. 15) in Chicago’s Humboldt Park. Westerberg’s face frequently broke out into a grin. It was obvious both he and Stinson were having a blast as they tore through some of the hard-edged garage rock songs they played together as teens a few decades ago. In the years since the Replacements broke up, Westerberg has been a mercurial figure, rarely giving interviews, sporadically putting out solo music and giving little hint that he had any interest in ever doing a Replacements reunion. But he did not give off the air of someone who was just going through the motions or reluctantly taking the stage. He looked like he was reveling in the moment.
The Replacements powered through their harder-rocking songs. Videos and recordings of the band’s Aug. 25 show in Toronto showed that this Replacements lineup was already sounding tight, and they clicked once again Sunday during their triumphant return to Chicago, the city where the old Mats broke up onstage. But it wouldn’t be a true Replacements gig without at least a little bit of sloppiness, or some goofy offhanded remarks by Westerberg.
As he flubbed the lyrics to “Androgynous,” Westerberg said, “I forgot the fucking words,” and laughed at himself. During “Swinging Party,” he asked Minehan to change the tone of his guitar. “Could you lose that Cure thing? That vibe,” he said — and then, before getting back into the song, he blurted out, “I don’t know what the second verse is. … I got it, I got it, I got it.” At another point during the show, Westerberg did a bit of Tarzan dialogue.
Aside from those asides, Westerberg reminded me of what a great vocalist he is, delivering his memorable turns of phrase with such natural ease and emotion. At times, he would let himself fall a beat or two behind, slipping back into the melody with timing something like a jazzy lounge singer.
When the Replacements played a frenzied cover of the English punk band Sham 69’s “Borstal Breakout,” some slam dancing broke out in the crowd near where I was standing. Young guys in black punk-rock T-shirts started flinging themselves at one another, and the middle-aged Replacements fans standing nearby moved back to give the crazy kids some space (and to protect themselves from getting slammed).
The high points for me were the Mats classics “Left of the Dial,” “Can’t Hardly Wait” and “Bastards of Young,” which this band — Westerberg, Stinson, Freese and Minehan, or whatever you choose to call them — played with all the youthful spirit of the old Mats. It wasn’t exactly like going back with a time machine, but it was the closest thing available to that.
Set list: Takin’ a Ride / I’m in Trouble / Favorite Thing / Hangin’ Downtown / I Don’t Know / Color Me Impressed / Tommy Gets His Tonsils Out / Achin’ to Be / Androgynous (with a bit of Hank Williams’ Hey Good Lookin’) / I Will Dare / Love You Till Friday/ Maybelline (Chuck Berry cover) / Merry Go Round / Wake Up / Borstal Breakout (Sham 69 cover) / Little Mascara / Left of the Dial / Alex Chilton / Swinging Party / Kiss Me on the Bus / Waitress in the Sky / Can’t Hardly Wait / Bastards of Young / Hold My Life / I.O.U.
Photos of the Replacements in concert Sept. 15, 2013, at Riot Fest in Chicago’s Humboldt Park. Click here to read my review of the concert. (A recap of Riot Fest and more photos from the festival are coming later…)
A train filled is crossing the country, bringing art installations and live music to stations in eight cities. The project, organized by artist Doug Aitken, is called Station to Station, and it stopped Tuesday night (Sept. 10) at Chicago’s Union Station. This presented a rare opportunity to see a concert and other artistic happenings inside this building’s towering civic space. Art installations were arranged inside yurts. Short experimental films were projected. The rock band No Age set up drums and guitar amps on the train station floor and played a set of ambient drone music.
Artist Liz GlynnNo Age
The sound of drums and horns suddenly came from another direction — up in a balcony overlooking the main hall. That was the Rich South High School marching band, which proceeded down to the main floor. And then, just as the drummers and cheerleaders were exited, the redheaded sibling duo White Mystery began making a noisy garage-rock racket on the main stage. Three screens were arranged behind the stage, allowing for some striking visuals as the musical acts performed in front of sweeping landscapes and other imagery.
Rich South High School marching bandWhite MysteryWhite Mystery
Accompanied by drummer John Moloney, Thurston Moore opened his set with an old Sonic Youth song, “Schizophrenia,” which sounded intriguingly skeletal with just the one guitar. The power went out on Moore’s guitar amps a couple of times during the set, but he managed to play some new and old material.
Thurston Moore and John MoloneyThurston MooreThurston Moore and John MoloneyThurston Moore and John Moloney
The Chicago multimedia artist Theaster Gates led his “experimental music ensemble,” the Black Monks of Mississippi, which his website describes as “performers who harmonize the Eastern ideals of melodic restraint with the spirit of gospel in the Black Church and soul of the Blues genre deeply rooted in the American musical tradition.” On this night in the train station, they made some beautiful sounds.
Theaster Gates/Black Monks of MississippiTheaster Gates/Black Monks of Mississippi
Mavis Staples was a late addition to the schedule for Chicago’s Station to Station event, and her performance was a wonderful way to cap off the night. The set was similar to the one she played four nights earlier at the Hideout Block Party, but she changed up a few songs. One nice addition was her lovely version of the Low song “Holy Ghost.” And she extended “Freedom Highway,” letting the band vamp at the end of the classic civil rights song written by her father, Pops Staples. Recalling Martin Luther King and his words, Mavis Staples seemed almost overcome with emotion for a moment as she declared that she is still here.
Almost without fail, the Hideout Block Party is one of the summer’s most entertaining festivals — and that hasn’t changed over the past couple of years, when it combined with the A.V. Club’s A.V. Fest. It feels like a gathering of old friends — in the middle of an concrete-block and corrugated-metal cityscape, with a whiff of trash wafting over from all of the city garbage trucks parked nearby.
Hideout co-owner Tim Tuen
The banner on this year’s stage, created by the great Chicago poster artist Jay Ryan, depicted garbage trucks tumbling in midair. And on Friday night, the Streets & Sanitation odors were stronger than usual. As Kelly Hogan wryly noted (during Neko Case’s concert, where she was providing her delightful-as-usual harmony vocals): “That breeze feels great even though it smells like dumpster juice.” The smell was worth putting up with because of all the great music, and thankfully, the wind was blowing in another direction on Saturday.
Neko Case
Unfortunately, the crowd was chatty on Friday night during the sets by Case and Mavis Staples. Wandering around the parking lot, it wasn’t easy to find an area where you could hear the music clearly without being distracted by nearby conversations. As usual, the audience members closest to the stage were the most attentive, and a hush finally fell over most of the crowd when Case daringly performed “Nearly Midnight, Honolulu,” an a cappella song from her new album, The Worse Things Get, the Harder IFight, the Harder I Fight, the More I Love You. The song delivers a fairly stunning emotional impact in the studio version, and it was only heightened in the live performance. That was the highlight of the night, but the rest of Case’s set was lovely, too — such a subtle mix of tough and tender. The final song of the night was her 2002 classic “I Wish I Was the Moon,” and she performed the opening verse a cappella (or nearly so) — the same way she did the song during the Solid Sound Fest this summer. And once again, Case’s voice rang out with clarity. See more of my photos from Neko Case’s performance.
Mavis Staples
Earlier in the evening, Mavis Staples ably demonstrated the power of her own voice. The matriarch of Chicago gospel recently had knee surgery, and she told the crowd, “This is my very first concert with the new knee. So I’m going to call this knee ‘the Hideout.'” Staples, who recorded a live album inside the Hideout, does genuinely seem to love the place, and the reception that she gets whenever she plays there.
Staples’ voice sounded tentative during the first song, her cover of Funkadelic’s “Can You Get to That” (from her excellent new album One True Vine), but there was nothing uncertain about her vocals in the rest of the set, as she gave full-throated glory to songs new and old. Closing with the Staple Singers’ classic “I’ll Take You There,” she exhorted the audience to sing along, taunting that the crowd’s first attempt at joining in was “weak.” See more of my photos from Mavis Staples’ performance.
Friday also featured the scrappy garage rock of Nude Beach and the acoustic jamming of Trampled by Turtles.
Nude BeachNude BeachNude BeachTrampled by TurtlesTrampled by TurtlesTrampled by Turtles
Girl Group Chicago
Saturday was a festive day in the garbage-truck parking lot. I just barely missed the opening set by the Guitarkestra (though I heard the roar of its chord in the distance as I walked up to the Hideout). I arrived in time for a fabulous set by Girl Group Chicago — five singer and 15 musicians, if I counted correctly, playing big renditions of classic girl group songs, joined onstage by the dancing gals known as the Revelettes. See more of my photos from Girl Group Chicago’s performance.
Jon Langford and Jean CookJon LangfordJean CookJon Langford
It wouldn’t be a Hideout Block Party without a performance by Jon Langford, and for this one, he played with a new lineup of his Skull Orchard band, playing a new song on the timely topic of “endless war” and closing with a cover of the Faces’ “Debris.” He also played “Haunted,” the song he wrote for Kelly Hogan’s album of last year. “The royalty checks are flooding in,” he joked. “They almost match the parking tickets.”
The Both (Aimee Mann and Ted Leo)The Both (Aimee Mann)The Both (Aimee Mann and Ted Leo)The Both (Aimee Mann)
Next up was the Both, a duo comprising Aimee Mann and Ted Leo. They’ve recorded an album together, and their musical styles blended with surprising ease during this set, despite some technical difficulties with the mix during the first couple of songs.
The WalkmenThe WalkmenThe Walkmen
The Walkmen sounded as intense as ever during their late-afternoon set; lead singer Hamilton Leithauser was unrelenting.
Superchunk
It was bittersweet to see Superchunk for the first time without the band’s longtime bass Laura Ballance, which is still recording with the group but has retired from touring. But Jason Narducy did a fine job of handling duties on bass, even getting into Superchunk’s bouncy, jumpy spirit. It seemed like lead singer Mac McCaughan’s feet were a few inches above the stage at just about any given moment during the show, and Superchunk was as lively and exciting as it ever was. New songs, like set opening “FOH,” sounded terrific alongside oldies like “Slack Motherfucker.” And in some comments to the crowd, McCaughan paid tribute to all of the Chicago people and institutions that helped Superchunk over the years, including the Lounge Ax, Steve Albini and Touch and Go Records. See more of my photos from Superchunk’s performance.
The Hold SteadyThe Hold SteadyThe Hold SteadyThe crowd during the Hold Steady’s setThe Hold SteadyThe Hold SteadyThe Hold Steady
As darkness fell, the Hold Steady launched into a loud and raucous set. The fans along the barricade by the stage clearly loved frontman Craig Finn’s shout-singing and wild gestures. Since keyboardist Franz Nicolay left the band, its sound has been all guitars, all the time. The nonstop riffing in the first half of the set was a bit much, but when the Hold Steady dug into its back catalog for some of its catchiest choruses at the end, all was well in Hideoutville.
Saturday’s headliner was Young the Giant. Who? … OK, I had heard of this group, but I’ve just barely heard its music. And I knew plenty of other people who turned out to see Superchunk or the Hold Steady and who were largely unfamiliar with Young the Giant. Judging from the people who crowded near the stage at the end of the night, most of Young the Giant’s fans are in their late teens or early 20s. And well … to my ears, Young the Giant’s music was rather bland and generic pop rock. It paled in comparison to the other music I’d been hearing all day. But I can’t complain too much, given how much fun the whole weekend was.
After decades of using Grant Park’s Petrillo Bandshell as its main stage, the Chicago Jazz Festival has finally moved to a classier, better-sounding and more welcoming venue: Millennium Park. The festival, which continues throughout this weekend, officially opened yesterday (Aug. 29) with events including a concert by Jack DeJohnette in the Jay Pritzker Pavilion.
Calling it a Jack DeJohnette concert doesn’t seem adequate, however. For this occasion, the legendary jazz drummer assembled a stellar group of well-known Chicago jazz men — pianist Muhal Richard Abrams, bassist Larry Gray and reedists Roscoe Mitchell and Henry Threadgill — billing it as “Special Legends Edition Chicago.” It was indeed special, a set of music filled with intelligent and probing solos by all five of these players, but more than just solos. This may have been an one-off performance, but this quintet thrived on interplay and collaboration.
It seems like most of my friends who are regular Chicago concertgoers have seen the local band Heavy Times a bunch of times. Somehow, I’d missed every opportunity to see Heavy Times — until Tuesday night (Aug. 20) at the Empty Bottle.
I thought I might have blown my last chance to see this group, which has put out some excellent records on the local Hozac label. Back in May, the Chicago Reader’s Gossip Wolf column reported that Heavy Times “broke up onstage after more or less playing at Quarters Rock ‘n’ Roll Palace in Milwaukee on April 27” — and this was just a few weeks before the band was set to release its third album, Fix It Alone. But as Gossip Wolf subsequently reported, Heavy Times ended up losing two of its members and recruiting some new players to fill out the lineup. That’s a strange situation for a band to go through just as it’s releasing a new album, but Heavy Times seems to have made it through the turmoil.
As a group on the Hozac label, it’s natural for Heavy Times to get lumped in with other “garage rock” bands. It’s a genre label I use often myself, and Heavy Times seems to fit somewhere within the loose boundaries of garage. Like a lot of garage rock, this music is essentially punk, and Heavy Times plays it with serrated edges and a sharp focus. The songs are quite tuneful, with riffs and vocal melodies that stick in your mind, but there’s nothing ingratiating about the way frontman Bo Hansen sings those hooks. Each song is a short, tense burst. Tuesday’s set was a rapid-fire series of these blasts.
My photos of Heavy Times:
Heavy Times was the middle band in a lineup of three groups playing Tuesday at the Empty Bottle. I confess that I did not stick around for the headliner, Survival. (I would’ve stayed, except for wanting to get some sleep.) The first band of the night was another local band, Vamos — who put on a fun, energetic set of punk rock.
Jeff Parker and Nels Cline, two virtuoso guitarists who are fluent in both jazz and rock, played together Aug. 8 at the Jay Pritzker Pavilion in Millennium Park. Backed by drummer Frank Rosaly and bassist Nate McBride, they played their version of the 1964 avant-garde jazz album The Turning Point by pianist Paul Bley, Sun Ra saxophonist John Gilmore, bassist Gary Peacock, and drummer Paul Motian. You didn’t have to be familiar with the original to appreciate the subtle and terrific playing by Cline, Parker, Rosaly and McBride.
For a Chicagoan, it’s always sad to see a good musician moving away from the city. Saturday night at the Double Door was one of these bittersweet occasions. Emily Cross, a talented singer-songwriter who makes beautiful and ethereal music under the name Cross Record, played at the Double Door, just before heading to her new home in Austin, Texas, along with her fiancé and bandmate, Dan Duszynski. On Saturday, Duszynski played a separate with his own band, Any Kind, and then it was Cross’ turn to rule the stage. Her music is gaining strength in concert, and she seems bound to continue making great music. Let’s hope she visits Chicago often. Listen to Cross Record’s music at bandcamp.
It’s always a joy when the Handsome Family, who once called Chicago their home, return to this city for a concert. “We did live in Chicago back in the 1800s. The place was all gas lamps,” the Handsome Family’s Rennie Sparks remarked Monday night at the Pritzker Pavilion in Millennium. “We like what you’ve done with the place.”
Well, it hasn’t been quite that long since Rennie and her husband/bandmate, Brett Sparks, lived along Milwaukee Avenue, an experience that inspired grimly humorous and evocative songs such as “The Woman Downstairs.” Rennie writes the lyrics, but it’s Brett who sings them, and on Monday night, standing on the stage in that glorious venue, he sang of those old days in Wicker Park in the 1980s and ’90s: “Chicago is where the woman downstairs/Starved herself to death last summer/Her boyfriend Ted ate hot dogs/And wept with the gray rats out on the fire escape…” And oh, that chorus about the wind screaming up Ashland Avenue.
It’s one of the great songs about Chicago — and a fine example of the Handsome Family’s unusual artistry. This alt-country duo often plunges into the darkness with its macabre lyrics, and yet, it delivers them with an almost jaunty spirit and a wicked sense of humor. The Handsome Family’s latest album, Wilderness, is a concept record, with each song telling the story of a different animal. The deluxe edition comes with a beautiful illustrated book of Rennie Sparks stories to go with each song.
For Monday’s concert, the Sparkses were supplemented by a couple of backing musicians, drummer Jason Toth and guitarist David Gutierrez, which fleshed out and stretched out the songs nicely. Along with a few of the new songs, the Handsome Family played old classics, including “The Sad Milkman,” “So Much Wine,” “In the Air,” “My Sister’s Tiny Hands” and “Weightless Again.”
Rennie was as whimsical as ever with her stage banter, telling the people sitting back on the lawn that all of the musicians onstage had donkey hooves for feet. At one point, when Brett thanked the audience for its kindness, Rennie interjected, “They could still turn on us.” “You always say that,” Brett drawled.
As a matter of fact, there was one particularly loud and boisterous audience member whose shouting proved to be a distraction — by the end, he was yelling out non sequitors such as “Cocaine Blues”! — but not enough to detract from a splendid concert.
The opening act Monday was Chicago singer-songwriter Azita, who sounded lovely as she played Millennium Park’s Steinway piano. Her backup musicians gave her songs a more rocking sound than usual, evoking 1970s guitar-and-piano pop. They played a cool cover of Joe Jackson’s “Breaking Us in Two,” but the highlight was hearing Azita play a quiet song with minimal accompaniment, her voice hitting high notes that echoed the jazzy piano chords.
See my photos of the 2013 Pitchfork Music Festival for The A.V. Club: Days 1, 2 and 3. I’ve included photos in this blog post.
Björk
For a long while now, Pitchfork has been about a lot more than indie rock. The Pitchfork website and the Pitchfork Music Festival both have a history of mixing obscure, strange and intellectual music with unabashedly mainstream pop. This past weekend, the festival put an exclamation point on that attitude by booking controversial R&B superstar R. Kelly as one of three headliners. The other two were more typical examples of the sort of music originally associated years ago with Pitchfork: Björk and Belle & Sebastian.
In theory, I like this idea of mashing Top 40 artists and DIY bands together into one musical amusement park. It pushes fans out of their comfort zones, helping them to discover artists they’ve previously ignored because of a bias toward particular genres. I’m one of those music fans who needs some pushing. Call me an indie snob … a guitar-centric elitist … a rockist. I’ve been ignoring the vast majority of mainstream music for the past few decades. The reason is simple. To my ears, most of it sounds overproduced, unimaginative and uninteresting. I realize that the sonic style of this stuff — the way this music tends to be performed and packaged — probably leads me to overlook some creative and well-crafted songs. But it feels like a chore to sift through it all to find whatever gems might be hidden in there.
So … R. Kelly? Sorry. I’ve barely even listened to the guy. What I have heard didn’t make me want to continue listening. The controversy over the disturbing criminal charges he once faced — and was acquitted of — doesn’t make me especially eager to dig any deeper into his music, either. This weekend, I was taking photos for The A.V. Club. After being allowed to take pictures from the photographers pit during R. Kelly’s first song on Sunday night, I had fulfilled my duty. And I needed to get home to edit a day’s worth of photos. So I left Union Park at that point, missing most of R. Kelly’s set. I’ll leave it up to other writers to say whether his performance was what R. Kelly fans wanted to get out of the experience. Judging from most of the comments I’ve seen, his fans rated the concert as a smashing success. From what I did hear, I doubt that R. Kelly would have made a new fan out of me.
BjörkBjörk
I did stay for Björk on Friday night. There was never any doubt about that. And I stayed for every minute of Belle & Sebastian. Both of these iconic artists delivered terrific performances — the only problem being the weather alert about an approaching storm that forced Björk to end her concert prematurely, cutting a few songs off her set list. Certainly, Björk’s more recent compositions aren’t as catchy as the earlier songs, but even the less memorable tunes came off as intriguing, complex creations as she performed Friday, wearing a sparkly set of spikes on her head. The set’s emotional climax was the moment when Björk sang “I love him, I love him, I love him, I love him…” in “Pagan Poetry,” tilting her head skyward, while her choir of female harmony singers responded, “She loves him, she loves him…” And then, shortly after Björk conjured some bottled lightning with a Tesla coil, actual lightning sparked in the dark clouds overhead.
Belle & Sebastian
Nothing so dramatic occurred during Belle & Sebastian’s set the following night. It was, quite simply, a fun time — a lively concert packed with so many fabulous songs that it was hard to imagine how anyone could come away from it without being a Belle & Sebastian fan.
SwansSavagesYo La TengoYo La Tengo
The three-day festival had plenty of other highlights for me. Woods jammed with a more Byrdsy vibe than ever. Swans droned and declaimed with frightening intensity. Savages made good on their hype. Wire started off a bit slow but finished with a strong buzz. Yo La Tengo played loud, and then quiet — so damn quiet that you had to listen — and then loud again.
…And You Will Know Us by the Trail of DeadFoxygenFoxygenPhosphorescent
…And You Will Know Us By The Trail of Dead dug into its songs with fierce power. Foxygen’s flailing lead singer, Sam France, climbed halfway up the red stage’s metal support column and jumped down, as the band fell into a delightfully shambolic groove. Phosphorescent leader Matthew Houck’s voice keened with longing. Julia Holter’s music floated as she stood as still as a statue. And Waxahatchee’s songs blossomed from bedroom folk into slacker rock.
Angel Olsen (double exposure)LowMetz
Alas, I wasn’t able to stay for whole sets by Mikal Cronin, Angel Olsen, Low and Metz, but they all sounded great for the few songs of each that I did catch. (I wasn’t there when Low closed its set with a cover of Rihanna’s “Stay,” transforming a mainstream pop song into, well, a Low song.) And I wish I’d seen more of Parquet Courts to figure out what all the fuss is about.
What else happened over the weekend? Pissed Jeans cavorted with glee. Daughn Gibson intoned with brash confidence. Trash Talk praised old people for “having us all and shit.” The Breeders fumbled. Mac DeMarco stuck out his tongue. Joanna Newsom plucked her harp and warbled, the subtleties of her songs getting a bit lost in the park.
Lil B fansSolange
I went into this Pitchfork fest with a bias toward old-fashioned, guitar-based indie rock, and I came out of the weekend with my bias intact. Still a rockist, but trying to be open-minded. Toro Y Moi’s frothy pop did nothing for me. M.I.A. put on an impressive and energetic show, but her music quickly wore me down, as it has in the past. I still have no idea what Lil B is all about, other than the fact that he has some really enthusiastic fans. Solange, Beyonce’s sweetly smiling sister, seemed to charm much of the audience. Hearing her music for the first time, it struck me as unremarkable. Maybe just not my cup of tea.
And so, when New York Times critic Jon Caramanica writes that the Pitchfork fest’s second half “served as a reminder of how dance music has become the most exciting emergent narrative in pop,” I have to wonder: What was I missing? I much preferred the weekend’s indie rock, which included, according to Caramanica, “bands in various stages of delusion and defensiveness.”
Killer Mike won me over, though. Of all the hip-hop artists I watched at Pitchfork, he was the one who had the most to say, even if his rap denouncing Ronald Reagan’s lies in the Iran-contra affair seemed oddly dated. “I want to encourage Chicago to take care of each other,” he said in one of his mini-sermons in between his raps, apparently alluding to the city’s violence. “I’d like to encourage the people of Chicago to look out for one another.” Later in his set, looking out on a Pitchfork audience that was more racially diverse than it had been on previous days, Killer Mike declared, “This is what church is supposed to look like.”
Frankie RoseBlood Orange
See my photos of the 2013 Pitchfork Music Festival for The A.V. Club: Days 1, 2 and 3.
Malian singer Fatoumata Diawara put on a fantastic show Saturday (July 13) at the Square Roots street festival in Lincoln Square. She plays again on Monday evening, in a free concert at the Jay Pritzker Pavilion in Millennium Park. She began Saturday’s concert with a fairly demure presence on the stage, in spite of her colorful attire. But by the end, she was dancing with wild abandon, stirring up an almost frenzied response for the audience. She pulled a girl out of the crowd to dance with her during the encore, and the girl mimicked Diawara’s move, much to everyone’s delight. The band was terrific, too, locking into energetic grooves and letting loose with searing guitar solos. Amid the party atmosphere, Diawara paused a couple of times to explain some of her lyrics, including a plea for peace in Africa and a demand for the end to the practice of female genital mutilation. These were serious, sobering messages, contrasting with the joyful sound of Diawara’s music.
Back when I discovered the music of Big Star as a college student, my first impression was that the band’s first two albums, #1 Record and Radio City, were overlooked classics, while its third album, Third (Sister Lovers), was a weird mess. But then Rykodisc’s 1992 reissue of that troubled Third opened my ears to what a majestic collection of music it truly was. Over the years, it has grown in my estimation considerably, so that it stands together with Big Star’s other album as a masterpiece. Another remastered version, with a different track sequence, was included in the 2009 Rhino box set Keep an Eye on the Sky. I’m most accustomed to the 1992 Rykodisc version, but one of the things that makes Third so fascinating is that there really is no one definitive version.
It’s a shame that Big Star’s Alex Chilton never performed the whole record live with the string accompaniment it needs. But since Chilton died in 2010, a group of his colleagues and admirers has put together a concert version of Big Star’s Third. It made its Chicago debut on Friday (June 28) at Park West. The driving force behind this project was Chris Stamey of The dB’s, working together with Mitch Easter of Let’s Active, Ken Stringellow of the Posies (who played in the latter-day reunited Big Star), and, of course, drummer Jody Stephens, the only surviving member of Big Star.
As the concert visits each city, it brings in some local musicians to fill out the lineup. The Chicago edition featured locals Sally Timms (Mekons), Ed Roeser (Urge Overkill), Tim Rutili (Califone), Josh Caterer (Smoking Popes) and saxophonist Ken Vandermark as well as Gary Louris (the Jayhawks) and Amy Speace. The touring band included singers Django Haskins, Brett Harris and Skylar Gudasz; and a chamber orchestra. (Gudasz also played flute in the chamber orchestra and performed a short opening set of her delicate piano ballads.)
Like the original record, the concert was messy and imperfect. At a few moments, the guest singers flubbed lyrics. (Rutili seemed unfamiliar with many of the words he was tasked to sing.) But at many other moments, Chilton’s haunting and strange music sounded glorious. Stephens, whose drumming parts were a crucial ingredient in making Big Star’s songs so memorable, stepped out from behind the drums to sing “Blue Moon” and “For You,” a song that he wrote. At the climax of Third, most of the musicians who’d played over the course of the evening crowded onto the stage for a rousing “Thank You Friends.”
The concert didn’t end there. The ad hoc group played several more Big Star songs, as well as three of the songs that Big Star’s Chris Bell recorded as a solo artist, and the one radio hit that Alex Chilton had during his career, the Box Tops’ “The Letter.”
Big Star’s music, which was almost completely overlooked when it came out in the 1970s, now feels like it has the respect it deserved all along.
Ken StringfellowDjango HaskinsMitch EasterSkylar GudaszSally TimmsChris StameyJosh CatererKen VandermarkKen Stringfellow and Josh CatererJody StephensBrett HarrisEd Roeser
Gary Louris and Django HaskinsEd Roeser, Tim Rutilit and Django HaskinsJosh Caterer, Ed Roeser and Ken StringfellowJosh Caterer, Gary Louris, Ed Roeser and Chris StameyBrett Harris, Skylar Gudasz, Tim Rutili and Amy SpeaceKen Stringfellow and Chris StameyGary LourisTim Rutili and Django Haskins
Millennium Park’s Pritzker Pavilion hosts a series of free concerts on Thursday evenings called “Loops and Variations,” which brings together electronic experimental music with modern classical music. (“New music,” if you will.) This past Thursday (June 27), the series presented a concert by the Baltimore duo Matmos, with Chicago’s Fonema Consort as the opening act. The Fonema portion of the evening was a good deal more serious. Matmos was downright silly. Still, somehow the two halves of the concert seemed to fit together in a strange way.
Matmos has collaborated in the past with artists such as Björk and So Percussion. They’re one of those electronic acts featuring guys hunched over their laptops, but they’re much livelier and more playful than the typical artist matching that description. On Thursday, they strolled out onto the Pritzker Pavilion stage clapping their hands and making goofy vocal noises, wandering around the stage as if they didn’t know where to sit down. After settling down with their gear and making an evocative soundscape, they explained that they’d been playing music that used recordings Matmos member Drew Daniel had made on recent trips to Istanbul and Beijing.
Joined midconcert by a guitarist and drummer, the Matmos duo transformed into something slightly more like a traditional rock band. OK, hardly traditional — Matmos member M.C. Schmidt blew bubbles in a bowl of water during one performance that was described as a aural simulation of liposuction. And near the end of its set, Daniel expressed his desire for NSA leaker Edward Snowden and led the group in a version of “I Want Candy,” with the words changed to “I Want Snowden.”
Fonema Consort focuses on 20th and 21st century vocal and instrumental music. According to the group’s website, it’s all centered around “our fascination with the exploration of vocal possibilities in music, including the traditional presentation of a text, the breaking down of words into phonemes, or the total absence of words, and the ramifications thereof.”
Those concepts were on vivid display during the consort’s performance on Thursday, including passage of spoken word whispered like auditory hallucinations. (Matmos member M.C. Schmidt later remarked that he’d been in the backstage bathroom listening to this music through the speakers there. “It was terrifying,” he said.) There were also some bravura passages of ear-shattering singing, and wind and string instruments dancing around the voices. The concert included works by Pablo Chin, Daniel Dehaan, Edward Hamel, Jonathon Kirk and Joan Arnau Pàmies.
My recap of Solid Sound 2013, continued from blog posts 1, 2 and 3…
The Solid Sound festival also featured rousing soul music by the Relatives; rootsy jamming by White Denim; harmonic pop by Lucius (who were most impressive when they guested with Wilco); Miracle Legion founder Mark Mulcahy doing solo music, with J. Mascis playing guitar in the back part of the stage; a nice set of solo singer-songwriter music by Sean Rowe; and singer-songwriter Sam Amidon playing quiet songs in the vein of Nick Drake as well as more traditional Appalachian folk, with Beth Orton (his wife) joining in for one song. Marc Ribot and Los Lobos’ David Hidalgo played a terrific set of their “Border Music,” and Brazil’s Os Mutantes playing songs from its new album Foot Metal Jack (which I’m not so keen on) but also some of its classic psychedelic tunes. And as mentioned in Part 2, the fest closed with a strong set by Medeski Martin & Wood, supplemented by various guests.
White DenimThe RelativesMark MulcahyThe Solid Sound fest at MASS MoCASean RoweLuciusJ. Mascis plays guitar during Mark Mulchay’s setOs MutantesOs MutantesOs MutantesOs MutantesOs MutantesOs MutantesMarc Ribot and David HidalgoMarc RibotDavid HidalgoJohn MedeskiBilly MartinChris WoodChris WoodMedeski Martin & WoodJohn Medeski
Watching all of the music, I missed most of the comedy cabaret hosted by Hodgman, though the portion I caught — featuring Hodgman and Jen Kirkman — was hilarious and eccentric.
In between the concerts, I stopped into MASS MoCA’s galleries and saw a few of the most striking and memorable artworks I’ve experienced in a while. The Chinese artist Xu Bing’s Phoenix, a pair of hundred-foot-long mythical birds constructed out of debris, is hanging from the ceiling in a room the size of an airport hangar. (And Xu Bing’s remarkable super-wide-screen animated film The Character of Characters was screening in another room.) Another gallery displayed a thousand or so miniature paintings that Tom Phillips created on the pages of an obscure Victorian-era novel, W.H. Mallock’s A Human Document. I could have spent many more hours examining these fascinating pictures. And then there was an entire building devoted to the paintings of minimalist Sol LeWitt. Now, I must confess here that I am unenthusiastic and generally bored by most minimalist art. When I see a big canvas covered in one color of paint, my typical response is, “Big deal.” So I wasn’t thrilled with the prospect of seeing all those LeWitt paintings. But there was something damn impressive about seeing all of them assembled in the three floors of this building. Taken as a whole, they became more like a weird piece of architecture.
Xu Bing’s Phoenix at MASS MoCAThe Sol LeWitt exhibit at MASS MoCAMASS MoCA’s exhibit of art by Jason MiddlebrookA detail from inside artist Mark Dion’s installation “The Octagon Room” at MASS MoCATom Phillips’ “A Humument,” on display at MASS MoCA
All in all, Solid Sound lived up to its name. It’s an inspiring model for how to run an arts festival — although it’ll be hard to emulate elsewhere, because how many other places are there like MASS MoCA?
Artist Mark Remec’s piece “Objects in Mirror Are Closer Than They Appear (Circle Totem)” in the foreground, with the main Solid Sound stage in the background, following the end of the festival of Sunday eveningArtist Marko Remec’s installation “Can’t Hear You (Fat Totem)” — acrylic dome safety mirrors strung up on an old water tank — on the Solid Sound festival grounds at MASS MoCAA courtyard at MASS MoCA
Read more about Solid Sound and see more photos in Parts 1, 2 and 3
Read more about Solid Sound and see more photos in Parts 1, 2 and 4
My last two blog posts about Solid Sound were about what the members of Wilco were up to during this festival. But like any decent fest, this one wasn’t entirely about one band. In brief, the other highlights included a high-energy show on Saturday afternoon by The Dream Syndicate, who were cult favorites in the 1980s California indie-rock scene. This was their first North American gig in more than two decades, but as it felt like they’d never stopped playing.
Yo La Tengo played not one, but two shows during Solid Sound. Alas, I arrived too late on Friday night to get a set at the screening of the film The Love Song of R. Buckminster Fuller, featuring a live score performed by Yo La Tengo. On Saturday afternoon, the group played a typically excellent set of its songs, both old and new, with the most drastic shift in dynamics I heard all weekend. After blasting a couple of noisy songs to open their concert, Yo La Tengo took the volume way, way down for a couple of its hushed, whispery ballads, “The Point of It” and “Decora” — and it seemed like everyone in the crowd stopped making any sound so they could listen in. (At least, that’s what it was like by the stage, where I was standing.) By the end of the set, the band back at full volume.
Yo La TengoYo La TengoYo La TengoYo La TengoThe MASS MoCA courtyard during Yo La Tengo’s set
Out of all the artists playing at Solid Sound, the one that seemed to represent younger, hyped bands was Foxygen. Just as they acted goofy during their recent in-store at Chicago’s Saki, Foxygen’s members seemed loopy at Solid Sound as they cavorted on the stage, playing their quirky, catchy songs. Perhaps they cavorted a bit too much. I heard most of Foxygen’s set, but I was away from the stage when lead singer Sam France reportedly tried to climb the scaffolding and got pulled down by security. Later in the day, I noticed three security guards surrounding Foxygen’s tambourine player, who looked intoxicated, and escorting him away from a tree. During Wilco’s show that night, Jeff Tweedy told the audience that the members of Foxygen had been “kicked out” of the festival. “They’re awesome. A little too awesome, I think,” he said. Later, he apologized, saying he hadn’t meant to disparage the band. But he dedicated the song “Passenger Side,” a song about drunk driving, to Foxygen. And then Tweedy brought up Foxygen one more time, suggesting that they might want to try drinking water onstage. The Reverse Direction blog has more about the Foxygen story. Whatever happened, I was charmed by what I saw of Foxygen’s set.
FoxygenFoxygenFoxygen
Although Low got some flack for playing one long droning song at the recent Rock the Garden festival in Minneapolis, the band played a standard set of its songs at Solid Sound on Saturday. And with Low, standard means beautiful.
LowLowLowLowLow
Neko Case is another artist who nearly always delivers a good to great performance, and her show on Saturday night included a few songs from her forthcoming album The Worse Things Get, the Harder I Fight, the Harder I Fight, the More I Love You, which comes out Sept. 3 on Anti. On first impression, the new songs sounded like a strong continuation of the singular style of music Case has been shaping over her last few records. For me, the highlight of the set was a heart-stopping performance of her 2002 song “I Wish I Was the Moon,” with Case’s voice plaintively calling out across the park in the opening verse. “We’re kind of a weird band for a festival because all of songs are bummers,” Case remarked at one point. Her stalwart harmony singer, Kelly Hogan, pointed out: “Low played earlier.” At the end of her set, Case said, “Every single song in our set is dedicated to that girl playing drums on her dad’s head.”
Neko CaseNeko Case and Kelly HoganNeko CaseNeko CaseNeko CaseNeko CaseNeko CaseJon Rauhouse plays during Neko Case’s setNeko Case
Read more about Solid Sound and see more photos in Parts 1, 2 and 4
Read more about Solid Sound and see more photos in Parts 1, 3 and 4
Given the fact that Solid Sound was a festival organized by Wilco, it’s not surprising that it also featured side projects by the band’s various members on Sunday (June 23). The most impressive of these may have been Wilco member Nels Cline’s eloquent, virtuosic guitar duets with Julian Lage. Cline later showed up as one of the guests during the festival-closing set on Sunday night by the jazz trio Medeski Martin & Wood, and he ended up playing for about half of their set, bending and twisting the notes on his guitar in a frenetic style reminiscent of John McLaughlin’s legendary work with the Mahavishnu Orchestra. (Tweedy, Hidalgo and Ribot also sat in on that set at various points.)
Nels Cline and Billy Martin during the set by Medeski Martin & Wood
Mikael Jorgensen — the keyboardist and electronics whiz who generally sits at the back of the stage during Wilco shows, making himself the least showy member of the band — had a couple of chances at Solid Sound to show off what he does. On Saturday, he generated live electronic analog synth music in a dark museum room, accompanied by longtime Wilco techs Nathaniel Murphy, Travis Thatcher and Josh Goldsmith. I dipped into the performance for a short sample, and it felt like I’d stepped out of the summer festival and into a … well, not a rave, exactly, since no one was dancing. A laboratory?
Mikael Jorgensen in the “Oscillator Fumes” room
And then, the following afternoon, Jorgensen took his pulsing electronic music out into the broad daylight, playing a set with Greg O’Keeffe and Oliver Chapoy. I’m not sure if Wilco’s more traditional-music-loving fans knew what to make of it, but the droning noise settled over the museum courtyard like an invasion of cicadas — but with a danceable rhythm.
Mikael Jorgensen, Greg O’Keeffe and Oliver ChapoyMikael JorgensenOliver ChapoyGreg O’Keeffe
Another member of Wilco with avant-garde tendencies outside of the band, drummer Glenn Kotche, played as part of the duo On Fillmore, which also includes bassist Darin Gray. But it wasn’t a straightforward concert of their music. Rather, they provided accompaniment for an entertaining live version of the public radio show “Radio Lab,” which featured Jad Abumrad and Robert Krulwich reading from scripts and playing short clips from interviews as Kotche and Gray made sounds to evoke the story of the dinosaurs’ extinction.
The crowd gathered in a MASS MoCA courtyard for a live performance of “Radio Lab”Jad Abumrad and Robert Krulwich of “Radio Lab,” with Darin Gray of On FillmoreGlenn Kotche plays with On FillmoreGlenn Kotche plays with On FillmoreDarin Gray makes dinosaur noises with On FillmoreThe key mammal that survived the meteor explosion that killed off the dinosaurs — the shrewdinger — appears during “Radio Lab,” with Jad Abumrad, right.
While some members of Wilco contribute elements of jazz, electronic and avant-garde music to the mix, John Stirratt and Pat Sansone bring a power pop, classic rock and soft rock sensibility, and that was on full display when they performed as the Autumn Defense. After playing pretty pop songs from their own albums, they closed with a perfect cover of Bob Welch’s 1977 radio hit “Sentimental Lady.”
The Autumn DefensePat Sansone plays with the Autumn DefenseJohn Stirratt plays with the Autumn Defense
Meanwhile, the Blisters — a band featuring Jeff Tweedy’s son, Spencer, on drums — also played at Solid Sound. The youngsters got plenty of adults dancing as they rocked out near the end of their noontime Sunday set.
The BlistersThe BlistersThe Blisters
Read more about Solid Sound and see more photos in Parts 1, 3 and 4
Read more about Solid Sound and see more photos in the rest of my report: Parts 2, 3 and 4
Wilco’s home base is Chicago, but the band’s vacation home seems to be MASS MoCA — the Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Art in North Adams, Mass. Wilco held its Solid Sound festival of music and arts June 21-23 on the museum’s sprawling grounds, the third time in four years that it has brought this event to this spot in the Berkshires. (The previous two Solid Sound fests were in 2010 and 2011, and then the event took the year off in 2012.) This past weekend was my first visit to Solid Sound and MASS MoCA.
What a cool place to hold a festival. The maze-like museum has been open only since 1999, but most of the 26 brick buildings on the 13-acre site have been standing there since the 19th century, when 3,200 people worked there, making printed textiles for Arnold Print Works. During World War II, the industrial complex was transformed into the Sprague Electric Co.’s factory.
The Wilco strongman carnival game
Now, it’s a place for putting up works of modern and contemporary art, with enough space to hang up some truly massive sculptures and paintings. And for three days in June, it was also a place to make music — and to explore. During his performance on Sunday with David Hidalgo, guitarist Marc Ribot marveled at the sight of music fans gathered in one of the old factory courtyards. “If they took all of the factories and turned them into art museums, everyone would have fun,” he remarked. (Not exactly a sound idea in economic terms, but let’s not quibble too much.)
Like many other music festivals, this one had a bunch of bands playing on a few stages, with their performances taking place over a few days. That’s one of the main reasons people attend festivals: to see a whole lot of bands in one fell swoop. The pace was more leisurely at Solid Sound than it is at, say, Lollapalooza or Pitchfork, with only a little bit of overlap in the performances. There was plenty of room for people to move around, anywhere other than the clusters right in front of the stages for the most popular musical artists.
There was a lot more than live music at Solid Sound. John Hodgman, who emceed the comedy portion of the festival, called it “a nexus of fantastic things coming together in an amazing space.” Of course, Hodgman was emceeing, so you’d expect him to hype up the festival a bit, but his description wasn’t far off from the truth.
Naturally, art was on display in and around the art museum — as well as displays created specifically for Solid Sound. “Jeff Tweedy’s Loft” exhibited pieces of Wilco memorabilia.
“Jeff Tweedy’s Loft” exhibit at MASS MoCA1962 Silvertone 1482 tube amp used during the “A.M.” sessions, on display in “Jefff Tweedy’s Loft” at MASS MoCAA Nudie jacket on display in the “Jeff Tweedy’s Loft” exhibit at MASS MoCa
One of the museum’s galleries filled with Sol LeWitt paintings featured Wilco drummer Glenn Kotche’s sonic soundscapes playing over the speakers. Kotche also created some “earth drums,” which were embedded in the ground, with signs encouraging festival attendees to tap out messages in Morse code to one another. (I got the impression that most people were just playing random rhythms.) Wilco bassist John Stirratt and Chicago artist Chad Gerth created the “Rickshaw of Forward Motion,” a mobile sound installation. (I failed to catch a ride on it.)
Jeff Tweedy, during the June 21 Wilco concert
And of course, Wilco performed on the concert stage — an all-request show on Friday night, followed by a more standard Wilco show on Saturday night. Saturday’s concert was fine, as far as Wilco concerts go. Just another night starring an outstanding band playing a wide range of songs from throughout its career. If you’ve seen a Wilco concert in the last few years, you’ve seen a show like this one. But the one on Friday was something else entirely.
John Hodgman, “randomizing” during the June 21 Wilco concert
The band asked for fans to request songs, and boy did they ever — apparently dozens of pages listing songs. Pulling from that list, the songs that Wilco chose to play were almost entirely covers. Hodgman came out onto the stage several times to “randomize” the concert, pulling out ping-pong balls with numbers assigned to songs on the huge master list and challenging the band to play them. This resulted in a few of the less-rehearsed and sloppier tunes of the night (Grateful Dead’s “Ripple” and Yo La Tengo’s “Tom Courtenay,” which was rescued by the participation of Yo La Tengo itself). Just to prove that all of his choices weren’t rigged, Hodgman also brought up three audience members to play “stump the band.” It turned out that Wilco couldn’t really play two of these audience requests (Lucinda Williams’ “Atonement” and the Cranberries’ “Dream”) without learning and rehearsing them, but the band delighted much of the crowd when it succeeded at playing the third audience member’s unlikely request: Daft Punk’s current hit, “Get Lucky.”
Jeff Tweedy, Pat Sansone and James McNew of Yo La Tengo, during the June 21 Wilco concert
The members of Wilco were clearly having a blast as they played covers of some terrific tunes, ranging from the delicate, wistful beauty of the Kinks’ “Waterloo Sunset” to a goose-bump-raising guitar solo by Nels Cline during Television’s epic “Marquee Moon.” And Replacements guitarist Tommy Stinson made a surprise appearance when Wilco played the Mats classic “Color Me Impressed.” Stinson (who will play with the reunited Replacements — er, Westerberg and Stinson — at Riot Fest in September) had a big grin on his face the entire time, and Tweedy seemed to relish sharing the stage with him.
Jeff Tweedy and Tommy Stinson, during the June 21 Wilco concert
At a couple of points during the night, a fan or two shouted, “Play some Wilco songs!” If you had never seen Wilco before, this concert would’ve served as a rather unusual introduction to the band’s live act. But for longtime fans, this was a night to treasure, filled with delightful musical nuggets. (NYC Taper captured the whole thing on audio.)
The set list almost speaks for itself:
The Boys Are Back in Town (Thin Lizzy) / Cut Your Hair (Pavement) / In the Street (Big Star) / New Madrid (Uncle Tupelo) / Dead Flowers (Rolling Stones) / Simple Twist of Fate (Bob Dylan) / Ripple (Grateful Dead) / Who Loves the Sun (Velvet Underground) / And Your Bird Can Sing (The Beatles) / And Your Bird Can Sing (repeat) / Psychotic Reaction (Count Five) / Tom Courtenay (Yo La Tengo) with Yo La Tengo / James Alley Blues (Richard Rabbit Brown) / Waterloo Sunset (Kinks) with Lucius / Waterloo (ABBA) with Lucius / Peace Love and Understanding (Nick Lowe) / Marquee Moon (Television) / Happy Birthday (to Pat Sansone) / Don’t Fear The Reaper (Blue Oyster Cult) / Cinnamon Girl (Neil Young) / (Stump the Band) / Get Lucky (Daft Punk) / Surrender (Cheap Trick) / Color Me Impressed (Replacements) with Tommy Stinson / Kingpin / Thank You Friends (Big Star) / ENCORE: The Weight (The Band) with Lucius / Roadrunner (The Modern Lovers) with Yo La Tengo
Nels Cline, during the June 21 Wilco concertNels Cline, during the June 21 Wilco concertNels Cline, Glenn Kotche and Jeff Tweedy, during the June 21 Wilco concertJohn Stirratt, during the June 21 Wilco concertJeff Tweedy and Lucius, during the June 21 Wilco concertNels Cline, during the June 21 Wilco concertNels Cline, during the June 21 Wilco concertTommy Stinson and Jeff Tweedy, during the June 21 Wilco concertJeff Tweedy, Glenn Kotche and Tommy Stinson, during the June 21 Wilco concertNels Cline, during the June 21 Wilco concertMikael Jorgensen, Nels Cline, Jeff Tweedy and Glenn Kotche, during the June 21 Wilco concertWilco’s June 22 concertPat Sansone, during Wilco’s June 22 concertJeff Tweedy, during Wilco’s June 22 concertGlenn Kotche, during Wilco’s June 22 concertGlenn Kotche, during Wilco’s June 22 concertJeff Tweedy, during Wilco’s June 22 concertJeff Tweedy, during Wilco’s June 22 concertJohn Stirratt, during Wilco’s June 22 concertNels Cline, during Wilco’s June 22 concert
Read more about Solid Sound and see more photos in the rest of my report: Parts 2, 3 and 4
Dr. John (aka Mac Rebennack, aka “The Night Tripper”) won some well-deserved attention last year, thanks to a terrific album called Locked Down. Producer Dan Auerbach (the Black Keys’ singer-guitarist) inspired Dr. John to make some of the spookiest, quirkiest music he’s made since his early recordings such as the classic 1968 album Gris-Gris.
Dr. John headlined Friday night’s show in a festival called Blues on the Fox, which is out in the far western suburb of Aurora. It was worth the trip. Dr. John played several songs from Locked Down, and even though he didn’t have the same lineup of musicians that Auerbach assembled in the studio, the songs retained their weird edges. His touring band, ably led by singer-trombonist Sarah Morrow, jammed out on the funky grooves.
Decked out in his standard sunglasses, hat and beads, the bearded, ponytailed Dr. John growled in a voice that didn’t sound all that different from the younger Dr. John of 1968. He’s one of those performers who seemed old before his time.
“I can get away with anything I say tonight because I’m on psychotic medication,” he said — probably a joke, alluding to the psychedelic flavor of his New Orleans blues-jazz-rock. Probably. When he dug into the keyboard notes of his biggest hit, 1973’s “In the Right Place,” it was impossible to resist the impulse to dance — or just move.
Some bands really make you wait. The Bats, a New Zealand band that formed in 1982, went for 19 years without visiting Chicago. The previous time they played here was a 1994 gig at the late, lamented Lounge Ax nightclub. The group stopped recording for a while, but then came back together in 2005. But New Zealand is a long way from Chicago, and so, the group’s local fans had to make do with listening to the studio records. Until Sunday (June 9) — when the Bats made their triumphant return.
Schubas was the venue this time, and the show sold out just shortly before the Bats began playing. The room was packed with a who’s who of Chicago’s most stalwart concertgoers and record-store clerks. And the Bats’ set list was packed with 22 songs stretching from the band’s first record, Daddy’s Highway (1987), to the most recent, Free All the Monsters (2011). It was wonderful to hear those clean, jangly guitar lines meshing together and those catchy vocal melodies — sounding like the 1960s by way of the 1980s.
Robert Scott, the Bats’ main singer, kept his face hidden in the shadow of a baseball cap all night. Scott’s onstage personality was low-key, but bassist Paul Kean was exuberant. The whole quartet, which also includes guitarist-singer Kaye Woodward and drummer Malcolm Grant, clicked as a musical unit. And the fans loved it. The Bats promised they’d be back in Chicago faster this time. Let’s hope it doesn’t take another 19 years.
The opening act Sunday at Schubas was the Chicago band Magic Gloves, and they proved to be a great match with the Bats. Three of the Magic Gloves traded off on lead vocals, and the songs made a very strong first impression. Definitely a group I look forward to hearing and seeing again.
Jason Isbell, who sang and played guitar in the Drive-By Truckers back when the band had three great singer-songwriters in its lineup, has a strong new record out today called Southeastern. Dwight Garner wrote a great profile of Isbell for The New York Times Magazine, which is well worth reading. Isbell recently went through rehab, and he has emerged from that experience with a terrific set of new songs. Isbell and his band, the 400 Unit, came to Chicago on Saturday (June 8), playing at the North Center street festival called Ribfest. The set included several of the new songs, both the softer, acoustic ballads and the rockers like “Super 8.” And of course, Ibsell and the 400 Unit played some of his best-known songs from previous records, including “Codeine” and the touching tribute to a friend killed in war, “Dress Blues.” And of course of course he delivered the signature tunes he first played with the DBT’s: “Decoration Day,” “Never Gonna Change” and “Outfit.” Isbell’s fans sang along enthusiastically.
The last time I saw a headline set by singer-songwriter Sharon Van Etten was Feb. 17, 2012, at Lincoln Hall. As I noted back then, she was in a silly, giggly mood, fumbling around a bit too much in between her lovely songs. She was more focused when she played this Monday (June 3) at the Jay Pritzker Pavilion in Millennium Park. Her goofy charm was still evident, as she made a few jokes, but this concert was all about her music. She doesn’t have a new record, so her set list drew from last year’s Tramp as well as her earlier albums. Even in a venue with thousands of concertgoers and a sweeping, panoramic view of Chicago’s skyline, Van Etten’s songs felt like intimate revelations.
One of the delightful things about seeing a concert at the Jay Pritzker Pavilion in Millennium Park is watching the performers themselves marveling at the beauty of the venue. And for some of the lesser-known musicians who get the chance to grace this stage — thanks to the inventive, often bold programming choices of the folks who book summer concerts — you can sense a certain amount of awe. I sensed that on Monday night (June 3), when the Chicago band Speck Mountain landed a primo spot as Sharon Van Etten’s opening act. It’s a very good bet that a sizable portion of the audience that turned out for the evening didn’t know who Speck Mountain was, but they probably made a lot of new fans.
Did they have any jitters about playing on a big stage in front of thousands of people? Not that I noticed. In fact, the band sounded more confident than I’ve ever seen them, especially when they jammed out with dual guitar solos on songs from their strong recent album Badwater. Marie-Claire Balabanian’s singing and guitar playing both sounded beautiful. They were a perfect choice to set the stage for Van Etten’s headlining performance. (More on her in my next post…)
Despite unseasonably chilly temperatures, the summer concert season got off to a stellar start May 27, with the year’s first show in the Monday night series called “Downtown Sound” at the Jay Pritzker Pavilion in Millennium Park.
The evening started with Marc Ribot’s Ceramic Dog, a trio led by the highly esteemed guitarist. I’ve admired Ribot’s distinctive playing ever since I heard him on the 1985 Tom Waits masterpiece Rain Dogs. He went on to play on several more Waits albums as well as records by Elvis Costello, John Zorn and others. This was the first time I’d ever seen him perform in concert. Ribot really let his fingers fly at many points during Monday’s set, but he also led his group through the droning textures of a piece aptly called “Prayer.” Ribot was less successful as a singer, whenever he occasionally barked out some words. But it was marvelous to see him twisting notes on his guitar into gnarly, spiky solos.
The headliner had been billed ahead of time as the Lee Ranaldo Band, but by the time they were introduced, they were calling themselves Lee Ranado and the Dust. It’s half of Sonic Youth — Ranaldo on guitar and vocals and Steve Shelley on drums — along with guitarist Alan Licht and bassist Tim Luntzel. Of all the music released by Sonic Youth’s members since the band went on hiatus, Ranaldo’s 2012 album Between the Times and Tidesis the strongest and most accessible work. And that came through during this concert performance, with a slew of catchy choruses and smartly constructed riffs.
Ranaldo and the Dust also played a few songs that the band is working on for its next record, as well as a somewhat surprising choice for a cover: the Byrds song “Everybody’s Been Burned,” written by David Crosby. Jamming out with Shelley and their new bandmates, Ranaldo seemed completely confident in his new role as a frontman.
Laura Marling was alone on the Athenaeum’s stage Thursday night (May 23), standing in a white spotlight with a dark expanse of floor all around her. She has played with a backup group on some previous tours, but this time, it was just her voice and her guitar. That was all she needed.
Marling’s records, including the superb new Once I Was an Eagle, show that she’s a marvelous singer and songwriter. Her concert performance demonstrated another great talent: her guitar playing, which was highly expressive, using many alternate tunings and inventive compositions that allowed her to play melodies up and down a few strings while the chords formed by the open strings continued to ring out.
She joked and apologized about all of the time she spent tuning her guitar between songs. “They should advertise now that my concerts are 15 percent tuning,” she said at one point. And later: “My next album is going to be called ‘Tuning.'” Marling’s good-natured stage banter made up for the long tuning pauses.
She started the concert with an uninterrupted suite of songs off the new album, which stretched out to epic length, somewhere around 12 minutes. That one suite covered so much musical, lyrical and emotional ground that it felt like a miniature concert unto itself.
Marling played one brand-new song, newer than the new album. It opened with the lyrics: “I look west and I believe. He looks east and thinks of me.” Marling noted that she debuted another song during a previous Chicago concert. “I’m going to … make Chicago my debuting city,” she remarked.
On a couple of the songs from previous albums, audience members shouted “woo!” when she sang the opening lines, which made her laugh midsong. “I forget that people come to gigs to hear me,” she said.
After warning the audience that she wasn’t sure she would be able to remember how to play her song, “Hope in the Air,” Marling did indeed find herself blanking out on the lyrics. She stopped, and audience members shouted out the words, helping her back into the song. Afterward, she said, “I was just bragging this afternoon how I never write down the words to any of my songs.”
She may not write them down, but they’re clearly etched in the memory of her fans.
Hozac Records’ Blackout Fest was back this past weekend for another round of garage rock, power pop and other mostly raw and raucous music. It stretched out across four days at the Empty Bottle; I was there for the last two nights: Saturday, May 18, when Chrome headlined; and Sunday, May 19, when Dwight Twilley had top billing.
For my money, Sunday was the much better of these two nights — partly because Sunday’s lineup leaned more heavily to the power-pop end of the spectrum, which was to my liking. As for Saturday … Well, Saturday had its moments, too, especially the powerful music of Chicago’s Verma, with wordless singing (or is it merely incomprehensible?). Wizzard Sleeve, with Quintron on percussion, were another highlight, with a number of catchy choruses.
But when Chrome took the stage for the headline act of the night, everything ground to a halt. Original Chrome member Helios Creed encountered one technical difficulty after another, struggling to tune his guitar or to get his pedals working, even as he kept making boasts such as, “We’re going to blow you away.” It seemed like a rehearsal with a newly assembled band more than an actual concert. The band sounded all right once it got started playing songs, but there was an uncomfortable vibe among the players. At several points, Creed abruptly halted songs by waving his arms at everyone else in the band, giving them a not-so-subtle signal to stop playing. Maybe this is just the way Creed functions on stage, but it seemed more like malfunctioning.
Sunday got off to a damn good start with The Sueves, a Chicago band with jagged guitar riffs and vocals — the best discovery of Blackout Fest for me. The second band of the night was one that I was already familiar with, Games, who put out a strong album of ’60-influenced garage rock/power pop on Hozac late last year. The songs sounded even more bracing in concert than they do in the studio versions.
Then came what amounted to a double dose of power-pop headliners: Oak Park’s Pezband — a trio that originally formed around 1971 and still knows how to rock, demonstrating that they should play far more often than they do — followed by Dwight Twilley. The Tulsa, Okla., singer is most famous for his two hits, “Girls” and “I’m on Fire,” but he has a cult following of fans who clearly loved hearing Twilley play other songs from his old records — as well as the news that Hozac is releasing the first official record of Twilley’s 1975 song “Shark (in the Dark).” Twilley closed out the Blackout Fest in style.
The SuevesThe SuevesThe SuevesGamesGamesGamesPezbandPezbandPezbandDwight TwilleyDwight TwilleyDwight Twilley
By the end of a long night, more than a dozen musicians had filled the stage at the Bluebird Nightclub in Bloomington, Ind., joining their voices and instruments together into majestic rock songs. But as crowded as the stage was, what was more striking was the absence of one man.
The songs cried out for the voice of Jason Molina, the singer-songwriter who had played with many of these musicians in his bands Songs: Ohia and Magnolia Electric Co.
Molina died in March, and the tribute concert on Saturday (May 11) was a celebration of all the great music he left us with. It also served as a sorrowful reminder of what we’ve lost. (Read and hear my 2006 interview with Molina.)
Held in the college town where his record label, Secretly Canadian, is based, the bittersweet concert brought together Molina’s former bandmates from the various phases of his career, as well as musicians from other bands whom he’d befriended. The show stretched on for more than five hours — a testament to just how prolific Molina was, and just how well his music holds up.
The first set of the concert, featuring early members of Songs: Ohia
Proceeding in a roughly chronological order, the concert began with some of Molina’s earliest musical collaborators reuniting. Admitting they’d had little chance to rehearse, these players still managed to deliver moving renditions of Molina’s early songs.
“This is going to be an epic night of music, 20-plus years of music and people who played with him,” singer-guitarist Bruce Comings remarked. “It feels weird to be play this music without him, but it feels good.” Later, touching his hand to his chest, Comings added, “We all miss him and this is helping a little bit.”
Singer Jennie Benford (who also performed in Jim and Jennie and the Pinetops) made the first of several appearances throughout the night during this set. It was great to hear her lovely vocals again.
Pete HessBruce ComingsJennie BenfordOneida
Oneida, who toured with Molina and recorded a split single with Songs: Ohia, played a three-song set, returning to the scrappier, more song-oriented sound of its early days to capture the spirit of the times Oneida spent with Molina. For this performance, Oneida was supplemented by Erica Fletcher on bass and vocals. (She later came back to the stage with Oneida’s Fat Bobby to sing another tune.)
Band members from the Magnolia Electric Co. album
The next band to take the stage was essentially the group that Molina brought together in Steve Albini’s studio to make the 2003 album Magnolia Electric Co. — although it wasn’t the same band that played on later Magnolia Electric Co. albums and tours. This was a rare opportunity to hear these musicians (including some members of the Chicago heavy metal band Arriver) playing the songs live. Back when Molina made the record, he turned out the lead vocals on his song “The Old Black Hen” to Chicago alt-country singer Lawrence Peters, and now it was Peters who took a turn at the microphone to sing it in a rendition faithful to the beautiful original. Most of the songs from that masterpiece of an album were saved for the end of the night, however.
Rob SullivanDan MacAdamDan SullivanDave Doughman of Swearing at MotoristsErica Fletcher of Nurse & Soldier and Fat Bobby of OneidaErica Fletcher and Fat BobbyMike BrennerLawrence PetersRob Sullivan and Dan MacAdam
The core of the band that became Magnolia Electric Co.’s long-running lineup is the Coke Dares — a Bloomington trio that plays loud, fast, short and humorous hard-rock songs. The Coke Dares delivered 10 songs in rapid succession, adding a bit of comic relief to the evening. “We felt like we won the lottery when Jason asked us to play with him,” Coke Dares/Magnolia guitarist Jason Groth reminisced.
Pete Schreiner plays during the Coke Dares' setJason Groth plays during the Coke Dares' set
The final set of the night was essentially a concert by Magnolia Electric Co., and it was practically a concert unto itself. “We don’t have a lead singer, so we’ve asked out friends and ourselves to fill in,” Groth said. Not everyone could sing the songs in a style similar to Molina’s, but a few of them pulled off a tone reminiscent of Molina’s conversational, melancholy vocals.
Elephant Micah and Jason Groth, during the Magnolia Electric. Co. setJennie Benford and Chris Kupersmith with Magnolia Electric Co.Magnolia Electric Co.Dave Doughman with Magnolia Electric Co. Michael KapinusMembers of Bottomless Pit and formerly of Silkworm, with Magnolia Electric Co.
Capping off the last set, players from the various eras of Molina’s career piled onto the stage, playing four songs from the 2003 Magnolia Electric Co. album: “Farewell Transmission,” “I’ve Been Riding With the Ghost,” “John Henry Split My Heart” and “Hold On Magnolia.” At their most dramatic moments, these final songs swelled and pounded with an almost startling force. In their quietest and most lyrical passages, the songs felt like prayers the musicians were saying for their lost friend.
This was not only a stirring tribute to Molina. It was also probably the last time the musicians who played on these songs will ever do them live in a concert anything like this. It was the final Magnolia Electric Co. concert and the final Songs: Ohia concert — albeit without the man who defined those bands. As the final notes sounded, singer Jennie Benford said, “I don’t want it to end.”
The big group at the end of the night, including Jennie Benford and Lawrence Peters on vocals
Molina’s handwritten liner notes for Magnolia Electric Co. included this comment: “Someone used to say to me: ‘If the only two words you ever say are THANK YOU then that will be enough.’ Thank You.”
Bill Callahan’s been quiet lately, revealing no sign yet of a follow-up to his 2011 masterpiece Apocalypse. The beguilingly odd singer-songwriter made a welcome return to Chicago on Monday (May 6), playing at an unusual venue — the Garfield Park Conservatory — in a concert booked by Land and Sea Dept., which featured tap dancer Flat Foot as the opening act. As Callahan took the stage and looked out at the sold-out venue filled with about 400 fans, Callahan laconically remarked, “There’s a lot of people here. You look like trees.” And then, appropriately enough, he began with a song about trees. “There’s sap in the trees if you tap ’em,” he sang, beginning the concert with “Sycamore,” from his 2007 album Woke on a Whaleheart.
Callahan was in top form, stretching out his songs for emphasis at key moments, turning around phrases from his lyrics like incantations coming to him in a fever. Although the music was a far cry from Van Morrison’s, Callahan and the two players accompanying him on Monday achieved a mystic flow that occasionally evoked Morrison’s famous musical prayers. Guitarist Matt Kinsey, who played on Apocalypse and toured with Callahan in 2011, offered a sort of call-and-response to Callahan’s vocals, reeling off tiny guitar solos squeezed between the lyrics. There was no drummer this time, just Kinsey and bassist Jaime Zuverza. As a result, much of the music was wonderfully rubato (“intentionally and temporarily deviating from a strict tempo”).
Callahan was more talkative than he has been at the previous concerts I’ve seen, showing a dry sense of humor. When he asked for more vocals in his monitor, a fan called out that the mix sounded great. Callahan replied, “It sounds different up here. Just so you know. Two different worlds. Trying to merge them into one.”
Callahan — who is known for his understated stage presence — later remarked: “A security guard asked me tonight if there’d be any Justin Bieber action. I’m doing my part. The rest is up to you.”
Callahan played one song from his early years when he recorded under the name (Smog), “Our Anniversary” from the 2003 album Supper, saying that he’s surprised people still want to hear him play it, but that he’ll keep playing it as long as fans request it.
He included two covers in his set: Percy Mayfield’s 1950 soul classic “Please Send Me Someone to Love” and Jim Jackson’s 1928 blues song “Old Dog Blue.” As he sang that old tune about a dog, a cat scampered along a nearby wall into the conservatory’s Horticulture Hall. In one quiet — practically silent — moment in between songs, Callahan noted the sound of a passing L train.
And after the main set finished and Callahan’s fans responded with enthusiastic applause, Callahan returned to the stage with his band and began strumming the chords to his 2011 song “Riding for the Feeling.” But before singing, he talked over the music for a bit, speculating on what life was like in 1908, when the Garfield Park Conservatory opened. He imagined how early people had to wake up for work back then. “Right after they got off stage, they got up … and were grinding their wheat for their breakfast,” he said — and then finally began singing lyrics that felt like the perfect way to end the night: “It’s never easy to say goodbye/To the faces/So rarely do we see another one/So close and so long…”
SET LIST: Sycamore / Universal Applicant / The Wind and the Dove / Drover / Please Send Me Someone to Love / Baby’s Breath / One Fine Morning / Old Blue / Our Anniversary/ Too Many Birds / ENCORE: Riding for the Feeling
Kelly Hogan returned on Sunday night to the venue she calls her favorite — Chicago’s Hideout, of course. It was another outstanding performance by Hogan, featuring most of the songs on her 2012 album I Like to Keep Myself in Pain as well as No, Bobby Don’t and the Magnetic Fields’ “Papa Was a Rodeo.” Here’s my video of that song:
Hogan’s band for this gig was essentially The Flat Five, a group she performs with occasionally, although Casey McDonough and Nora O’Connor switched on their usual instruments — he played guitar while she handled bass duties — and the drummer was original Flat Five-r Gerald Dowd rather than current member Alex Hall. During the long encore, McDonough, O’Connor, Dowd Scott Ligon each took a turn at the microphone. It was like a mini-Flat Five set. (For a full one, check them out June 8 at Space in Evanston.)
The opening act was Dmitry Samarov — the author, painter and former cabdriver, whom I profiled for the Chicago Reader in 2011. Among his many creative endeavors, Dmitry recently released a CD called Blue Light, featuring his readings of stories accompanied by improvised jazz by guitarist Bill MacKay, drummer Charles Rumback and bassist Daniel Thatcher. The four of them took the Hideout stage on Sunday and made music and stories together, with the laid-back vibe of a guy recounting stories to you in a bar. Well, I guess that’s actually what this was. You can hear the studio recordings — and buy the CD — at http://samarov.bandcamp.com. I especially enjoy the story “Charles Bronson.”
The Shoes have been making great power pop since 1975, though the band has largely gone unnoticed by the public at large. They’ve kept at it, however, even if their recording and concert pace has been pretty sporadic for the past couple of decades. The group, which originally formed in Zion, Ill., re-emerged last year with a fine record of new songs called Ignition, while the Numero Group reissued some of the band’s early records and the Real Gone label released 35 Years: The Definitive Shoes Collection 1977-2012.
Amid this resurgence of activity, Shoes finally got around to playing a local concert last night (May 4), performing at FitzGerald’s in Berwyn.
It was the first time Shoes had played a Chicago-area concert since a 2007 gig in Millennium Park. (I was there for that show, too.) When they played six years ago, I wrote that “they did not sound the least bit rusty,” and that was just as true last night. Shoes sounded quite sharp as they delivered shiny guitar riffs, catchy vocal melodies and harmonies, and the new songs from <i>Ignition</i> stood up quite well alongside great oldies like “Tomorrow Night.” An enthusiastic bunch of Shoes fans filled the room, clearly delighted when the Shoes came back for two encores.
The opening act was another excellent Chicago-area band that seldom performs, Green, who made the superb 1987 album <i>Elaine MacKenzie</i>, among other fine recordings. I’m not sure when their last gig was, but I had managed to see Green only once before — at Phyllis’ Musical Inn, something like 24 years ago. The band was in top form on Saturday at FitzGerald’s, and the Green fans clustered near the front of the stage seemed ecstatic to be seeing this band on a stage again after all these years. In additional to old Green songs, the band played covers of two Buzzcocks tunes and one by Nick Drake — a somewhat odd choice, but a good indication of the band’s range of influences.
The worlds of classical music and indie rock have been intersecting in some interesting and exciting ways lately. I get the sense that certain musicians and composers feel completely free to cross over the old genre boundaries — if they even recognize that such boundaries exist. Several of these category-defying artists came together this past week for two concerts at the Museum of Contemporary Art Chicago.
Top billing went to Chicago’s eighth blackbird, a chamber ensemble that champions contemporary classical music (or “new music,” if you will). But the group’s guest performers — Shara Worden, Bryce Dessner and Nico Muhly — were a big draw, perhaps explaining why the concerts sold out.
Dessner and Muhly both wrote pieces that eighth blackbird played during the concert, but they also sat in with the ensemble during other pieces, performing like integral members of the team. (Afterward, on his blog, Muhly wrote: “it’s always a pleasure to interfere in their patterns.”)
Worden, who performs her singular style of rock under the name My Brightest Diamond, is also a classically trained singer and composer — and that pedigree came in handy as she took on the role of the soprano for two movements of David Lang’s“Death Speaks,” which has just been released on CD. It was delicate and mournful music, with sublime singing by Worden giving it a strong emotional undertow.
The concert also featured playful moments, including the opener: Tristan Perich’s aptly titled, “qsqsqsqsqqqqqqqqq,” which used three toy pianos and electronics to create an undulating, mind-bending pattern of notes. Eighth blackbird member Lisa Kaplan wrote three piano pieces for four hands and played them alongside Muhly, their arms crossing but never tangling.
Dessner, best known as a member of The National, wrote a set of four “Murder Ballades” for eighth blackbird, and this was the U.S. premiere of that suite. Dessner drew on old folk songs for his material, and it did sound distinctly American, with woodwinds and strings taking over for the human voices that might have announced tragic crimes via the folk-music medium in the 19th century.
Muhly wrote his composition, “Doublespeak,” for eighth blackbird in 2012 as a contribution to a festival honoring Philip Glass. It echoed the cycling arpeggios and looping melodies that are Glass’ trademark, without sounding like a slavish imitation.
Appropriately, the concert also included an early Glass composition, “Two Pages” from 1968. Introducing it, eighth blackbird flutist Tim Munro said, “Philip Glass is sort of the grandfather of this entire concert.” He noted that performing “Two Pages” requirers such intense concentration that it feels like “running an ultra-maration,” and that the musicians are really “freaking out” during the piece even if they seems expressionless. That rigorous Glass composition also proved to be something of an ordeal for the audience — harsher and less yielding than Glass’ later music — but it was an impressive feat in its own way.
Throughout the evening I attended (Wednesday, May 1), eighth blackbird and its guest stars played compositions that were equally intriguing and accessible, performing it all at a high level.
