Andre Williams was originally scheduled to appear, but when he fell ill, Syl Johnson was the last-minute substitute. So the lineup ended up featuring two great soul singers, Syl Johnson and Renaldo Domino, both of whom have had their music reissued in recent years by Chicago’s esteemed archival label the Numero Group. And both were backed on Saturday night by Expo 76, who played several songs of their own, too — well, several of the fun covers of rock oldies that they specialize in, anyway.
Expo 76 (featuring Dag Juhlin) served its role well as the house band for the night. Domino was suave and soulful. Johnson showed off his Grammy nominee medallion and played his best-known songs, letting loose on some bluesy guitar solos. The highlight was a long, impassioned take on his anthem, “Is It Because I’m Black?”
Dag Juhlin of Expo 76 Syl Johnson Syl Johnson Syl Johnson showing his Grammy nominee medallion Syl Johnson Renaldo Domino Renaldo Domino Renaldo Domino Renaldo Domino Renaldo Domino
For the past 15 years, cartoonist Heather McAdams and her husband, musician Chris Ligon, have presented a delightful event each December at FitzGerald’s: Chris and Heather’s Country Calendar Show. McAdams sells her calendars, which feature her drawings of old-time country music stars and tons of factoids and humorous observations packed into practically every square. And each year, a dozen or so musical acts take the stage, paying tribute to one of the artists featured in the calendar by playing a couple of cover tunes. And in between all of those musical performances, a movie screen gets pulled down so that Chris and Heather can project 16mm films from their collection of classic country music.
It’s quite a festive evening, and I’ve attended a few times. Alas, the 2012 edition is apparently the last one Chris and Heather will ever do. At least, that’s what they’re saying now. I’m hoping they come back. To quote the reaction of Neko Case (who has performed at past calendar shows) when she heard the tradition was ending:
Chris and Heather’s final calendar show was filled with all of the hilarity, affection, great music and cool old films that regulars had come to expect. It was a bittersweet occasion, but they went out in style.
Heather McAdams and Chris Ligon Chris Ligon reads Heather's list of other guys she'd like as co-hosts. Scott Ligon plays the music of Skeeter Davis. The Lawrence Peters Outfit sings Randy Travis. The Paulina Hollers play Bill Monroe. The Paulina Hollers play Bill Monroe. Matt Miller sings the songs of Conway Twitty. Jon Langford is Johnny Cash. Devil in a Woodpile do Billy Joe Shaver. Vernon Tonges Robbie Fulks joins Vernon Tonges onstage as Tonges sings Fulks' song "Push Right Over." Heather McAdams hypnotizes Chris Ligon into performing impersonations. The Modern Sounds perform George Jones. The Modern Sounds perform George Jones. Robbie and Donna Fulks perform the music of the Johnson Mountain Boys. The Possum Hollow Boys are Wanda Jackson. Charlie King Jane Baxter Miller and Kent Kessler do Freddy Fender. The Polkaholics "cook" as the Collins Kids. The Polkaholics "cook" as the Collins Kids. The Fat Babies play Bob Wills.
TUESDAY, NOV. 27, THE HIDEOUT — RICK RIZZO AND JANET BEAN: The Hideout’s been hosting some shows lately in its front room, including a few recent gigs by Rizzo, the lead singer and guitarist for Eleventh Dream Day. This time, he was joined by his fellow Eleventh Dream Day member Janet Bean, who normally plays drums and sings. For this unamplified performance, she had jingle bells on her ankles; she also shook a tambourine and occasionally played a Melodica, while Rizzo played acoustic guitar. It was unusual to hear EDD’s songs unplugged. The tunes are meant to rock, but it was cool to hear Rizzo and Bean’s vocal harmonies and lyrics so clearly. They played several new songs, which will probably show up on the next Eleventh Dream Day record, whenever that comes out.
WEDNESDAY, NOV. 28, THE BURLINGTON — DAVID VANDERVELDE: This was the last of four Wednesday-night shows Vandervelde performed during his November “residency” at the Burlington; the only one that I managed to catch. He was in excellent form, playing several songs with buzzing guitar riffs and solos in the style of Neil Young and Crazy Horse. But as always, he also reveled in power-pop melodies. On this occasion, his songs reminded me more than a little bit of Badfinger. Can’t wait to hear his next record. I showed up just in time to catch the last song and a half by Mazes, who seemed to be rocking pretty hard; and alas, I missed the first set of the night, by the Singleman Affair.
THURSDAY, NOV. 29, ALLSTATE ARENA — THE WHO: I hadn’t been planning to see The Who until I got a last-minute offer for a ticket. I’m glad I went. The one time I’d seen The Who before was their “farewell” tour in 1989. And I was skeptical about the whole idea of Roger Daltrey and Pete Townshend carrying on as “The Who” without either Keith Moon or John Entwistle. But as much as I’d prefer going in a time machine back to a Who concert circa 1967, they played a remarkably good show this time.
Daltrey’s vocals stayed strong. Townshend twirled his arm in that trademark windmill, making jagged shards out of his rhythm chords. And several musicians filled out the rest of the sounds as they performed the entirety of their complex 1973 rock opera Quadrophenia, followed by a short string of some greatest hits: “Who Are You,” “Behind Blue Eyes,” “Pinball Wizard,” “Baba O’Riley” and “Won’t Get Fooled Again.” They should’ve ended the show there, but they went on, with Daltrey and Townshend alone on the stage doing an acoustic duet version of “Tea & Theatre,” from The Who’s 2006 album Endless Wire. It was actually nice to hear the two of them playing by themselves, but the song paled in comparison to everything that had come before it. Still, all in all, a memorable night of music by one of the world’s greatest rock bands — or what remains of it.
FRIDAY, NOV. 30, THE HIDEOUT — MIKE COOLEY: Patterson Hood gets the most attention in the Drive-By Truckers, but the other singer-songwriter-guitarist in the group, Mike Cooley, has been contributing great songs to the band’s albums since the beginning. He rarely plays solo gigs, so it was a privilege to see him sitting down with a couple of acoustic guitars on the Hideout’s stage. Cooley, who generally lets Hood do all the talking between songs at DBT shows, turned out to be a fairly talkative and wickedly funny guy. And what a pleasure to hear his songs in these plucked-acoustic arrangements, which often sounded quite a bit different than the full band versions. A friend who saw Cooley on Thursday night as well told me that he played a lot of different songs the previous night. As Cooley noted, he works without a set list, and he obligingly played some of the songs requested by enthusiastic fans. Highlights included “Zip City,” “Checkout Time in Vegas,” “Marry Me,””Carl Perkins’ Cadillac” and “When the Pin Hits the Shell.”
I had my camera at only one of these concerts, the Mike Cooley show. My photos:
Leonard Cohen turned 78 years old this fall, but he showed no signs of allowing his age to slow him down when he performed Friday night (Nov. 23) at the Akoo Theatre (the suburban Chicago venue formerly known as the Rosemont Theatre). Cohen was on the stage for more than three hours! As the concert began, he said he and his band would give the audience everything they had — and it turned out that he wasn’t joking.
Cohen delivered a marathon greatest-hits concert backed by a versatile band of virtuosos and dulcet-voiced singers. Cohen has never been seen as a conventionally great singer, but his conversational tone is perfect for putting the emphasis on his poetic lyrics — and his weathered voice sounded just right on Friday night, especially when it descended into beautifully creaky baritone depths. As good as Cohen’s band is, he allowed the musicians to indulge in a few too many solos over the course of the evening, but it was always touching to see Cohen’s unusual gesture toward those players. Whenever it was someone’s turn to play a solo, Cohen doffed his hat, holding it in front of his chest in a sign of respect, as he stood or knelt facing the soloist.
Cohen also knelt frequently as he sang. Maybe he just felt comfortable resting his legs for a minute, but it also seemed like a sign of gratitude, or perhaps a recognition of music’s holy quality. Cohen skipped with delight as he left the stage, and then he kept coming back … and coming back. Many audience members got up to leave after his first encore, but then he came back and sang more. He skipped away again, audience members got up again, and then Cohen returned for yet another encore. By the time he finished with a cover of the Drifters’ “Save the Last Dance for Me,” he had played 30 songs. And he looked like he could’ve kept it up for another few hours.
Here’s a set list — which Greg Kot included in his Chicago Tribune review; the list matches my notes from the concert.
FIRST SET: Dance Me to the End of Love / The Future / Bird on the Wire / Everybody Knows / Who by Fire / Darkness / Ain’t No Cure for Love / Amen / Come Healing / In My Secret Life / A Thousand Kisses Deep / Anthem
SECOND SET: Tower of Song / Suzanne / Waiting for the Miracle / Anyhow / Heart With No Companion / Democracy / Alexandra Leaving (performed by Sharon Robinson) / I’m Your Man / Hallelujah / Take This Waltz
FIRST ENCORE: So Long, Marianne / Going Home / First We Take Manhattan
SECOND ENCORE: Famous Blue Raincoat / If It Be Your Will (performed by Webb Sisters) / Closing Time
THIRD ENCORE: I Tried to Leave You / Save the Last Dance for Me
The first time I saw Angel Olsen was back in 2007, when she was an opening act for Marissa Nadler at Ronny’s. “Cool downtrodden strumming, piercing pretty vocals,” I noted at the time. And then a few years passed before I heard anything else from this promising singer. She surfaced again in 2010, showing up as a singer in Bonnie “Prince” Billy’s band.
Earlier this year, Olsen finally put out the sort of record that could attract the sort of attention she deserves: a lovely LP called Half Way Home, on the Bathetic label. On the record, Olsen sings and plays with backup from another talented Chicago musician who’s spent time in Bonnie “Prince” Billy’s band, Emmett Kelly (who’s also the leader of the Cairo Gang). While this isn’t a solo acoustic recording, the production and arrangements are spare, and the feeling is that of an intimate, natural performance captured on tape just as it might sound in a bedroom.
Olsen played an in-store with Kelly on Sept. 4 at Reckless Records in Wicker Park, and the store was filled with listeners. And then, when she performed a Nov. 12 concert in New York, New York Times critic Ben Ratliff wrote a glowing review under the headline “A Singer Finds Her Voice, and It Can Silence All Others.” It seemed that this largely unheralded singer from Chicago might be finally getting more widespread notice. Jessica Hopper interviewed Olsen for a Nov. 16 article in the Chicago Tribune, and then Olsen made her triumphant return to Chicago for a gig Monday (Nov. 19) at The Burlington.
At least, it felt triumphant to me. Olsen’s still a fairly obscure singer in the grand scheme of things, and Monday’s show felt a bit like a private party where she was welcomed home by friends. After nice, folk-rock sets by two openers, Clouds and Mountains and I Ching Quartet, Olsen took the stage. This time, she was playing solo — calmly commanding the stage. She did show jitters at a few moments, forgetting a few of her own lyrics, but then laughed it off with self-deprecating humor. She played an electric guitar, but kept the tone clean and unadorned, sounding practically acoustic as she strummed and plucked spare but inventive chord progressions. She sang softly much of the time, but then she would step aside from the microphone as her voice rose in strength, hitting notes filled with plaintive pleading.
At a few points, in the middle of song, Olsen raised her eyebrows or said something like, “hmm,” as if commenting on her own performance as it was happening — gestures that could be seen as examples of her lacking confidence. To me, they felt — paradoxically, perhaps — more like signs that she is comfortable with her presence on the stage. As she sang, the room felt almost completely silent. I sensed some awe among the people gathered there.
Here’s a video I shot of one song, “The Waiting,” which is preceded by a giggly introduction:
In case you missed it … Thurston Moore of Sonic Youth played two shows this past weekend in a little Logan Square club called The Burlington. Despite Moore’s fame, the gigs seemed to be a bit under the radar. They were part of the four-day Neon Marshmallow, a diverse and sometimes daring music festival event that was held in the Empty Bottle and Viaduct Theatre in prior years. I wish I could’ve attended more of the festival this year, but other things on my schedule got in the way. But I did manage to catch Moore’s performance on Sunday night — which was especially cool because it featured Moore collaborating and improvising with Frank Rosaly, one of Chicago’s most inventive drummers.
Rosaly made skittering, clattering noises with his kit — occasionally holding cymbals and other percussion pieces instead of drumsticks — creating rhythms that skipped around in unexpected patterns. Moore was using old-school equipment — just one electric guitar, a few pedals, an amp and a couple of bars or tools to assault his strings. Together, they painted an abstract sonic landscape. Near the end, Moore laconically leaned back against his amp, taking his hands off his guitar and letting the feedback ebb and flow. Across the stage, Rosaly was the manic opposite of Moore’s frozen figure, attacking his drums with a rapidity that approached the impossibly fast hammering of woodpeckers. And then Moore abruptly lunged to the middle of the stage and stomped on a guitar pedal just as Rosaly shut himself off and brought the noise to a climactic halt.
OM emerged out of the heavy music genre that’s often called stoner rock, but the band has moved beyond that sound — exploring Middle Eastern melodic structures and other mystical elements. When OM started in 2003, it was the duo of Al Cisneros and Chris Hakius, who’d been the rhythm section for stoner legends Sleep. OM’s most recent lineup has bassist-singer Cisneros playing with drummer Emil Amos — and now, former Chicagoan Robert A.A. Lowe, aka Lichens, has joined the roster. The three of them played Saturday (Nov. 17) at the Empty Bottle, playing music from their recent record Advaitic Songs as well as older songs.
OM’s latest studio recordings sound trippy and almost meditative at times, but each song keeps moving forward with an insistent quality. The rhythm section doesn’t have to drive you to keep listening — there’s simply something inherent in those exotic musical motifs that makes it feel natural to keep them on repeat. As a live act on Saturday night, playing to a jam-packed, sold-out Empty Bottle, OM turned up the heaviness, hammering the bass riffs home with more force. Sitting behind a table, Lowe seemed like an essential part of OM’s musical quotient, singing, playing guitar and fiddling with various electronic gear as he painted more layers on top of OM’s sturdy foundation.
Saturday’s show started off with a solo set by Bruce Lamont, who’s also the singer and sax player in the arty heavy metal band Yakuza, the Robert Plant simulacrum in tribute band Led Zeppelin II — and an Empty Bottle bartender. Lamont used looping to build an evocative drone with his voice, guitar and woodwinds.
Bruce Lamont
The second act of the night was Daniel Higgs, who used to sing with the band Lungfish and also collaborated last year on a terrific punk record by the Swedish band Skull Defekts. (See my review and photos of Higgs’ 2011 show with Skull Defekts at the Hideout.) For his gig at the Empty Bottle, the gray-bearded Higgs sat with a banjo and intoned songs of epic length with lyrics that spooled out with no end in sight. In fact, most of the set seemed to be one song, which he interrupted and then returned to. He told the audience that he was still working out some of this material, trying to decide on a melody to go with his words. It was often compelling and interesting, but it got monotonous by the end of his set. Like many other musicians playing quiet music on the Empty Bottle’s stage, Higgs seemed to be frustrated with the chatter of bar patrons intruding on his songs, but he addressed his frustration by addressing the crowd in strange, elliptical and humorous comments. “I think they should turn this place into a church,” he said at one point. And then he got the crowd to sing a note, directing us just to make it up. “This concert needs a recalibration,” he explained.
Even back in the 1980s, when The dB’s were going strong with four really cool albums of power-pop music, the band was a little bit under the radar. They were one of those groups that you heard about from obsessive record collectors rather than hearing them on the radio. They were starting to get some attention around 1987, when I saw them opening for R.E.M. at the Assembly Hall in Champaign, but then they broke up shortly after that.
They remained favorites of those obsessive record collectors, however — and in 2005, the original lineup reunited for some gigs, including an appearance at the Hideout Block Party. They started working on a new album. And took seven years doing it. Released this summer, Falling Off the Sky turned out to be a winner, a collection of catchy, clever tunes featuring the voices of Peter Holsapple and Chris Stamey, sounding just about the same as they sounded 30 years ago. (It probably didn’t hurt that a couple of their old-time cohorts, Mitch Easter and Scott Litt, assisted with production.)
Chicago was lucky to get two dB’s shows this week at a great venue, the Hideout — especially lucky considering how this fall “tour” included just one other concert, in St. Louis.
The dB’s seemed like they were having a great deal of fun on Thursday night, as they dug deep into their back catalog for songs including their 1979 single “Black and White” — and of course, popular tracks like “Amplifier” and “Neverland.” They turned down an audience request for “Molly Says,” with Holsapple admitting that the band was neglecting songs from the 1987 album The Sound of Music — a fine record, in my opinion. But they did insert “Big Brown Eyes” into their set after someone yelled out that song title. And at the end of the night, the dB’s rocked out on a cover of Barrett Strong’s “Money (That’s What I Want).”
Gene Holder of The dB's Chris Stamey of The dB's Gene Holder of The dB's Chris Stamey of The dB's Peter Holsapple of The dB's Will Rigby of The dB's Will Rigby of The dB's
The Hideout gigs gave dB’s drummer Will Rigby a chance to put his daughter Hazel in the spotlight. As it happens, she lives in Chicago, playing bass and singing with the band Outside World, who opened for the dB’s — playing fuzzy shoegaze rock, reminiscent of a different slice of 1980s rock music. (According to Joshua Klein’s review in the Chicago Tribune, this was apparently the first time Hazel had ever seen her dad’s band in concert.)
Thursday was one of those nights when it was possible to see a couple of good concerts in the same night. After King Tuff at Subterranean, I headed over to the Empty Bottle, where Grass Widow was headlining a late show. The all-female San Francisco trio harmonized in a way that sounded similar to other bands in the recent crop of “Girl Groups,” but they also went beyond the usual garage-rock three-chord template by playing some really creative melodies on the guitar and bass. The group’s latest record is called Internal Logic, and the songs are indeed built on a strong foundation of musical logic. But hey, it’s also rock, and that’s just what Grass Widow did on Thursday night.
Grass Widow Grass Widow Grass Widow Grass Widow
The Empty Bottle show also featured San Francisco punk rockers Neon Piss and Iowa City’s Wet Hair, who sounded vaguely krautrockish. But my favorite of the three opening bands was another all-female bunch, Chicago’s Blizzard Babies — who played more of that girl-group garage rock, but with one unusual touch: a ukulele.
I was at Subterranean on Thursday night, Nov. 8, to see an early, all-ages show by King Tuff, but when I walked into the place, I was struck by the instantly catchy sounds coming from the opening band, Gap Dream. “Who’s that?” you are probably asking. That’s what I was asking, too. It turns out they’re a rock group from Cleveland; the CMJ website describes their music as “Psychedelic surf pop from the southern shores of Lake Erie.” I’m not sure about the surf part, but it certainly was psychedelic, like a trippy version of the Byrds, with lots of chiming, ’60-style guitar lines and strong vocal melodies and harmonizing. I liked Gap Dream enough that I went to the merch table and bought their self-titled debut LP. You can hear it and/or buy it on bandcamp.
Gap Dream Gap Dream Gap Dream
And then it was time for King Tuff, a rocker on the Sub Pop label with a recent self-titled record that’s jam-packed with catchy tunes. King Tuff’s tunes are unabashed homages to an earlier era of hard-rock hits. Although King Tuff seemed very much like a full-fledged band during the Subterranean gig, the band is essentially one dude, Kyle Thomas, who’s also played in the stoner-rock band Witch and the Vermont collective Feathers. Some of that stoner attitude comes through on the harder-edged King Tuff riffs, but for the most part, King Tuff is all about fun songs with memorable hooks. And that came through loud and clear during Thursday’s gig. The show ended early, which gave me time to hit another concert. More on that shortly…
I got my first impression of Dan Deacon when he played 2007 Hideout Block Party, setting up a table of electronic gear and old Casio keyboards and stuff in the middle of the pavement — essentially performing into the midst of an enthusiastic crowd. It all seemed like lots of fun, but as often happens with electronic music artists, I was left wondering just what Deacon had been doing with all of those knobs and levers.
I overcame my skepticism about Deacon’s musicianship when I listened to his two most recent albums, 2009’s Bromst and this year’s America. Both of these records make it clear that Deacon’s a composer of some true sophistication, using the sort of overlapping melodic patterns that are common in Philip Glass’ minimalism but employing them to a different end — pulsing and often anthemic pop music.
As a concert act, Deacon is still a bit of a goofball and a party instigator. When he performed Wednesday (Nov. 7) at Lincoln Hall with his ensemble (two drummers plus keyboardist-guitarist Chester Endersby Gwazda, also one of the opening acts), the music was just as complex as it is on the records. It was still hard to decipher precisely how Deacon was coaxing all of those sounds out of that mound of wires in front of him, but it never felt like a bunch of precorded sounds scrolling on a laptop, which is the unfortunate fate of many electronic artists during concerts.
Deacon got the crowd to do a variety of dances and maneuvers that had the feeling of a hipster game of “Simon Says.” These games included one that involved much of the audience going out on the sidewalk in front of Lincoln Hall while Deacon and his band continued playing. During one song, many of the audience held their smartphones aloft and used Dan Deacon’s app, which picked up the song’s vibrations, triggering the phones to display light in various colors — making the fans part of the light show. The whole concert had an infectious sense of fun.
Dan Deacon Dan Deacon Dan Deacon Dan Deacon Ensemble Dan Deacon concert Dan Deacon concert Dan Deacon concert Dan Deacon concert Dan Deacon Ensemble Dan Deacon Ensemble Dan Deacon concert Dan Deacon Ensemble Dan Deacon Ensemble Dan Deacon Ensemble Dan Deacon Ensemble
Gwazda’s opening set was cut short by problems with broken guitar strings. The evening also featured Height with friends (whose rap-rock tired me out after a while) and comedian Alan Resnick, who charmed with a bizarre lecture about creating a virtual version of himself.
Alan Resnick Chester Endersby Gwazda Height with friends Height with friends
No matter how diligently the media, publicists and bloggers try to tell us about all of the worthwhile concerts happening every night in Chicago, some good ones slip through the cracks. The only reason I knew anything about the show at Township last Sunday (Nov. 4) was that I noticed a friend tweeting about it. (That friend is Heather Copeland, who posts a lot of her concert videos on youtube.) Given how little publicity this show received, it wasn’t surprising that the room was pretty bare when the World Record played, but the 20 or so people in attendance seemed to enjoy it — and I certainly did.
The World Record are a Los Angeles power pop band, led by singer-guitarist Andy Creighton (who has also played with Apex Manor, Papercuts and Foreign Born), and their recently released sophomore album, Freeway Special, is filled with 18 hook-filled songs reminiscent of Teenage Fanclub and the Weakerthans. What’s not to like about that? (You can hear the whole record and buy mp3s or FLACs at bandcamp.)
According to a press release, the World Record have “remained one of L.A.’s best-kept secrets, rarely venturing outside of Southern California.” They hadn’t played in Chicago for several years, and unfortunately, Sunday’s gig was below the radar, but I hope they’ll be back soon.
The Canadian band Metz — or METZ, if you follow the group’s preferred capitalization scheme — was back in Chicago this past Saturday night (Oct. 27) for a gig at the Empty Bottle. I happened to catch these guys a year ago, when they played in the same room, opening for Iceage. This time, they were the headliners and they had an actual record out, a self-titled debut that came out recently on the Sub Pop label.
This trio plays pulverizing punk rock — or perhaps it’s post-punk? It’s hard to tell where the boundaries are between rock’s noisier genres. Metz’s driving, loud riffs are more reminiscent of ’90s punk than the looser, garage-rock-influenced punk that’s been heard a lot lately. Saturday’s performance was tight and powerful. It’s the sort of music that might live up to the title of one Metz song, “Headache,” but it actually feels good if you give into the pain.
Saturday’s show also featured an opening set by Toronto’s Absolutely Free, which began interestingly enough with a bit of a Caribou vibe, but by the end of the set, I was getting bored and sensing more of an Animal Collective sensibility. (And sorry, I didn’t get any good photos of Absolutely Free, because it so blasted dark.) The middle set of the night was another strong performance by Chicago’s Radar Eyes, who were decked out in Halloween costumes and playing with a new, apparently temporary drummer, Nithin Kalvakota, filling in for expectant mother Shelley Zawadzki.
Most of the music was dreamy and drifting Thursday night (Oct. 25) at the Empty Bottle. Chicago’s Bare Mutants started off the evening with songs heavily laden with trippy Velvet Underground-esque drones.
The second band of the night, Alex Bleeker and the Freaks, jammed more, but other than a few flourishes of dirty noise, most of the songs sounded pretty, not all that far removed from the music of Bleeker’s other band, Real Estate. The band’s interesting choice for its final song was “Animal Tracks” by Mountain Man; the original is a spare piece of Appalachian folk music sung by three women, but the Freaks turned into an extended Crazy Horse type of jam.
The headliners, Twerps, came to Chicago all the way from Melbourne, Australia, bringing some catchy if somewhat low-key indie pop tunes with them. (Check out their music at twerps.bandcamp.com.) At the end, they brought Alex Bleeker and the Freaks onto the stage with them, and everyone joined together in a ragged cover of the Rolling Stones’ “Sweet Virginia” — a change of pace from the mellowness that preceded it, but a rousing way to call it a night.
Twerps Twerps Twerps Twerps Alex Bleeker and the Freaks Alex Bleeker and the Freaks Alex Bleeker and the Freaks Alex Bleeker and the Freaks
Although it was set in a Berlin populated by humans as well as angels, Wim Wenders’ classic 1989 film Wings of Desire introduced many of its viewers (including me) to a couple of terrific bands originally from Australia: Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds — and a group with similarly Gothic and powerfully brooding music, Crime and the City Solution. Both bands contributed songs to the wonderful soundtrack and appeared in memorable concert scenes filmed in Berlin nightclubs, including this one:
While Nick Cave has gone on to become an icon, Crime and the City Solution broke up after releasing four albums, ending up as more of an obscure cult favorite. The group’s getting some new recognition now, however, thanks in part to a new collection from the Mute label, A History of Crime: Berlin 1987-1991: An Introduction to Crime and the City Solution, and a reunion tour, which brought Crime’s current lineup to Chicago’s Lincoln Hall on Sunday (Oct. 21).
According to the Chicago Reader, lead singer Simon Bonney lives these days in Detroit. The lineup that he has assembled for the new Crime and the City Solution includes two musicians from the band’s Berlin era, violinist Bronwyn Adams and guitarist Alexander Hacke (also of Einsturzende Neubauten). They are joined by guitarist David Eugene Edwards (of Wovenhand and 16 Horsepower), bassist Troy Gregory (who has played with the Dirtbombs, Swans and Spiritualized), keyboardist Matthew Smith, the always-superb drummer Jim White (a member of The Dirty Three who’s played with Cat Power and Nina Nastasia) and Danielle de Picciotto on visuals.
Bonney’s baritone sounded as dramatic ever as he sang his verbose lyrics, occasionally turning for help to a stack of laminated lyric sheets sitting on the stage in front of him. (Can’t remember his own words? Hey, he wrote a lot of words.) His bandmates encircled him on the stage, playing with a smoldering intensity. The old songs sounded fresh, and the band also played a couple of sharp tunes from a new album, American Twilight, which is set to come out next spring.
Here’s one of the new songs, “My Love Takes Me There”:
My photos from Sunday’s show, which also included an opening set by Bobby Conn:
As I trekked up and up to the third level of the United Center and took my seat in section 334, gazing far down at the distant stage, I remembered why I hate seeing concerts at stadiums and other huge venues. I should’ve brought binoculars. And the opening set by Los Lobos at this Oct. 11 concert reminded me of other reasons why the concertgoing experience inside one of these vast airplane hangars is so inferior to what you get at a small club: The sound was dreadful, with so much reverberation that it sounded like another band was playing somewhere in the back of the room at same time as Los Lobos. At least, that’s how it sounded where I was sitting.
But then it was time for the main act of the night, Neil Young and Crazy Horse. There aren’t many bands I will see at a mega-size venue, but this is one of them. I’d seen Young play with Crazy Horse once before, in 1991 at the similarly sized Rosemont Horizon (since renamed the Allstate Arena). (The set list is posted here.) And I’d seen three Young play three other concerts, either solo or with other bands. They’ve all been memorable performances, and a couple of them rank among my all-time favorite shows.
So, sure, I’d love to see Young with or without Crazy Horse in a small room, standing right next to the stage. But that’s not likely to happen. In a strange way, watching him and his stalwart band from a great distance created the illusion that I was watching much younger musicians. Of course, whenever the big video screen on the side of the stage showed a close-up of Young’s face, you could see that he was an old man. It seems like he’s been an old man for a long time. And he and the Crazy Horse guys (Frank “Pancho” Sampedro, bassist Billy Talbot and drummer Ralph Molina) looked like shaggy old dudes. But looking away from the video screen, staring down at that faraway platform, I saw what seemed like a teenager or maybe a longhaired rocker in his 20s, loping around, crouching, stomping, his electric guitar wailing.
Young had a youthful spirit about him as he did what he does best when he’s in Crazy Horse mode: drawing out feedback-drenched guitar solos for as long as he wants. After a quirky bit of theater to introduce the show (roadies in white coats setting up the stage as “A Day in the Life” played and then “The Star-Spangled Banner”), Crazy Horse took the stage in full-out jamming mode.
Although Young and Crazy Horse released an album of reinvented folk songs called Americana earlier this year, they did not play a single song from that collection. They also skipped some of the classic songs that are usually staples of Crazy Horse shows (“Cortez the Killer,” “Cowgirl in the Sand,” “Like a Hurricane”). But they did play some music from their forthcoming record, Psychedelic Pill, including a finely sculpted 20-minute epic “Walk Like a Giant.” That song ends with several minutes of thudding noise, a dark coda of sorts. When the buzz cleared, Young switched to acoustic guitar for a solo performance of “The Needle and the Damage Done.” It wasn’t the jarring transition that it could have been; rather, the sudden change in mood and style just showed the wide range between Young’s electric jams and his folk-inspired songs.
Young and Crazy Horse were on fire for the last four songs of the main set, then they came back with a surprising choice for the encore, the classic “Tonight’s the Night” — a dark tune of peculiar power that sounded like a fresh creation as it was played on this night.
It was another exceptional performance by one of rock music’s great masters and the band that brings out his best.
Set list: Love and Only Love / Powderfinger / Born in Ontario / Walk Like a Giant / The Needle and the Damage Done / Twisted Road / new song / Ramada Inn / Cinnamon Girl / Fuckin’ Up / Mr. Soul / Hey Hey, My My (Into the Black) ENCORE: Tonight’s the Night
Tift Merritt’s lovely voice sounds sometimes like it’s about to break — there’s that slight crack, the one you hear in the vocals of old-time country singers, that little creak that makes the singer seem both brave and vulnerable. And she sounded just as beautiful as ever on Friday night (Oct. 5) at City Winery in Chicago. Merritt played quite a few songs from her fifth and latest record, Traveling Alone, which was a fine thing, since it’s another strong collection of songs rooted in traditional country, rock and folk.
Andrew Bird and Marc Ribot, who perform on the new record, weren’t present, but Merritt had her longtime bassist and collaborator Jay Brown onstage, along with pedal steel guitarist Eric Heywood and drummer Tony Leone, and they provided subtle accompaniment for her delicate singing and acoustic guitar strumming. The highlights included some of her best-known older songs, “Stray Paper,” “Bramble Rose” and “Good Hearted Man,” which sounded like a true classic as she sat down at the grand piano to sing that indelible melody.
This was the first concert I’ve seen at City Winery, and it also featured a nice opening set of mellow, husky-voiced Americana by the Pines. The room sounded great during both sets, and it seems like an all right place to see a singer-songwriter. But it’s hard to escape the feeling that the business is mostly interested in getting you to order wine and food as you sit at your assigned table. Personally, I’d rather see a show in a venue where I can move around and mingle.
Tift Merritt Tift Merritt Tift Merritt Tift Merritt The Pines
The Wire, a fine British magazine about experimental music, sponsors a truly diverse and frequently odd festival each year at the Empty Bottle in Chicago called Adventures in Modern Music. The festival ran five days; I caught one set on Wednesday, Oct. 3 (R. Stevie Moore) and most of the show on Thursday, Oct. 4.
R. Stevie Moore has reportedly recorded something like 400 homemade albums of lo-fi rock music, finally touring extensively for the first time last year at the age of 59. I can’t say I’m familiar with his oeuvre, if that’s the right word for it, but he put on an interesting enough performance that I’m curious to delve into his recordings … if I can figure out a starting point. His beard was blue. His stage banter included an odd chant about Neil Armstrong and Lance Armstrong.
R. Stevie Moore R. Stevie Moore R. Stevie Moore R. Stevie Moore R. Stevie Moore
Thursday’s show was a great example of the odd juxtapositions that are typical of the AIMM schedule. The evening started with an outstanding jazz set by Joshua Abrams and his band, Natural Information Society — well, jazz is about as close a genre label as seems appropriate, but it hardly seems adequate. Next up was the Manchester, England, techno artist Andy Stott, who generated some mesmerizing layered beats with his laptop.
Joshua Abrams' Natural Information Society Joshua Abrams' Natural Information Society Joshua Abrams' Natural Information Society Andy Stott
Then came the New Hampshire black metal band Vattnet Viskar, which conjured up the natural fury of a thunderstorm with precise and powerful riffs. Finally, the English experimental duo Demdike Stare sounded downright sinister with pulsing drones.
Ty Segall and Thee Oh Sees played a couple of shows last Friday (Sept. 28) at Logan Square Auditorium, along with Chicago’s Bare Mutants as the opening act. And a raucous, good time it was (despite the typically muddy sound for this venue) … making up for the Pitchfork Music Festival’s cruel decision earlier this summer to schedule Segall and Thee Oh Sees on different stages at the same time.
My photos and video:
Bare Mutants Thee Oh Sees Thee Oh Sees Thee Oh Sees Thee Oh Sees Thee Oh Sees Ty Segall Ty Segall Ty Segall Ty Segall Ty Segall
Also, check out the video of Ty Segall’s wild appearance on WGN-TV’s morning news show on Monday (Oct. 1), which prompted one startler viewer to comment on WGN’s Facebook page: “what in the heck was wrong with that ‘band’ u had on … where the bone head just kept screaming Chicago?????”
Brilliant Corners of Popular Amusements is one of Chicago’s odder festivals, with a truly eclectic mix of musical acts, plus a circus and stand-up comedians, too. Now in its second year, it took place over the weekend at the Riverfront Theater, a 22,000-square-foot tent on the grounds near the Chicago Tribune Freedom Center, next to the Chicago River. While I’m not the only person who went to the festival for all three days, it seemed like a completely crowd showed up each night.
On Friday night, Zola Jesus paced the stage and twirled in circles as she sang in rich, throaty tones, giving her songs a primal quality. The headliner was John Cale, former member of the Velvet Underground. It’s always a privilege to see a musical legend like Cale in concert, but it was disappointing to hear him playing with a band that sounded at times like Bon Jovi. The performance finally took on a bit more of a ragged edge when Cale switched from keyboards to guitar, but still, it would have been more gratifying to see Cale play his songs with revealing minimalism rather than obscuring bombast.
Saturday night was the one night when Brilliant Corners sold out — thanks to headliner Conor Oberst’s enduring popularity. A bunch of his loyal fans thronged to the space in front of the stage within seconds after the doors opened. But they’d have to wait, since the revered orchestral-pop composer Van Dyke Parks was on first. Backed by a small string ensemble, Parks played piano and sang and offered up many wry comments to the crowd. After explaining that he’d just played a song about the freedom of expression, Parks said, “I did a Pussy Riot on you, folks. Forgive me.” And before playing “Orange Crate Art,” he said: “I wrote this song for Brian Wilson, may he rest in peace. In due course.” Parks doesn’t have the greatest voice, but he is a clever and adept songwriter, and his intelligence and wit were clear during this performance.
Van Dyke ParksVan Dyke Parks
Parks kept on mentioning how happy he was to be playing on the stage as Oberst. “Conor’s gonna rock your roost,” he remarked at one point. Well, not exactly — not in the literal sense of rocking, anyway. When it was Oberst’s turn to play, he was alone on the stage, sitting down as he deftly plucked and strummed on acoustic guitars and sang his verbose poems and stories in that distinctive, vulnerable voice of his. Other musicians joined him now and then, adding subtle touches of vibraphone, piano or pedal steel guitar, and by the end, there was a full band of sorts. But the show was really all Oberst’s. Although it wasn’t billed as a Bright Eyes concert, Oberst is, for all intents and purposes, Bright Eyes, so it was hard to see what the difference was.
Starting with “The Big Picture,” Oberst played many of Bright Eyes’ best and most beloved songs. At one point, asking the audience to choose between a dark song and a sweet one, he remarked, “I know Chicago is a rough-and-tumble town. You don’t take to sentimentality. That’s rough when you’re a folk singer.” Actually, as the crowd’s reaction demonstrated, these Chicagoans wanted both the dark and the sweet, and Oberst obliged.
Saturday’s festivities also featured El Circo Cheapo, which I missed. And there were free stand-up comedy performances late Friday and Saturday. I caught the comedy on Saturday, including a sporadically hilarious performance by Jon Benjamin that was memorable for being so surreal and awkward.
Jon Benjamin
Soul music fans turned out on Sunday night for headliner Bobby Womack, though they didn’t rush immediately to the stage, as Bright Eyes fanatics had the night before. The night started with a set of intriguing electronic pop music sung in Spanish by Helado Negro. He received a respectful response, but it felt like much of the audience was biding its time until Womack hit the stage. And by the time that happened, many of the fans who had been hanging back finally came forward. And boy, did they make their presence known.
Helado NegroHelado NegroHelado Negro
It was a great performance by Womack and his band, but what made it a truly exceptional experience was the enthusiasm and joy of the audience. Fans sang along and danced — and flirted with Womack and his backup singers. As Womack began to say that he was dedicating one of his songs to someone, a woman near the stage called out, practically pleading, “To me, Bobby! To me!” Womack exuded coolness, but he was clearly eating up all of that adoration.
Womack is getting renewed attention and critical acclaim this year for his album, The Bravest Man in the Universe, which updates his sound with help from the XL label’s Richard Russell and Damon Albarn of Blur and Gorillaz. It’s an evocative record, but Womack didn’t play a single song from it on Sunday night. Its weird, moody textures probably would’ve required a different band and a different setting. Instead, Womack focused on his R&B of old. He name-checked some of his colleagues who have passed away, getting the crowd to sing a bit of Marvin Gaye, before he performed an emotional rendition of Sam Cooke’s “A Change is Gonna Come.” Womack took off his shades for only about a minute all night. He was cool to the end.
It didn’t seem like anyone else could fit into the space in front of the Riot Fest stage where Iggy and the Stooges were about to play on Sunday night in Humboldt Park. More and more people kept squeezing their way forward. But then, the stage lights came on, and the Stooges took their spots in the center of the stage, like they were guarding the drum kit from an onslaught. Iggy Pop bounded to the microphone stand, his hair flying, his torso as bare as always. Within seconds, the crowd somehow managed to surge forward, and the moshing commenced. It felt like everyone was swaying and bouncing in unison as the Stooges pounded out their proto-punk riffs and Iggy showed his miraculous powers to keep on rocking with rambunctious abandon well past the age when most people slow down.
Guitarist James Williamson, an old member of the Stooges who rejoined the band after guitarist Ron Asheton’s death, sounded even more confident than he had playing at the Riviera in 2010. Drummer Larry Mullins filled in for one of the other original Stooges, Scott Asheton, who has been ailing of late. Bassist Mike Watt pushed and pushed the grooves, while saxophonist Stave Mackay threw on a layer of grungy jazz. Iggy was more talkative than usual, urging audience members to bum-rush the stage, playfully taunting the video camera operators (“I’m over here!”), and asking everyone if they wanted to see… well, you can guess what he offered to show. (As far as I could see from where I was standing among the moshers, Iggy did not pull a Jim Morrison act onstage, despite his offer to do so.) Iggy seemed to be having the time of his life, feeding off the audience’s energy. I’ve seen a couple of Iggy Pop solo concerts and three Stooges shows now; they’ve all been thrilling, and this was one of the best.
I did not take photos at Riot Fest, alas, but you can see my previous pictures of Iggy Pop & the Stooges at Lollapalooza in 2007 and the Riviera in 2010. (And many Riot Fest photos are posted on other websites, including Time Out Chicago.)
Although things got a little close for comfort in the Stooges’ lawn-sized mosh pit, the overall scene at Riot Fest on Sunday was quite pleasant, with plenty of space for fans to spread out throughout Humboldt Park. Riot Fest has been going on for years, but this past weekend was the first time it became a full-fledged outdoor festival, with one night of music at the Congress Theatre, followed by two days of live rock and carnival rides in Humboldt Park. Based on my experiences in the park on Sunday — and the comments I heard from people who were there on Saturday, too — the festival was a well-run affair.
Riot Fest also boasted an impressive lineup of bands. As in past years, the main theme was punk rock, but Riot Fest defined itself broadly enough to include acts such as Built to Spill, the Jesus and Mary Chain and Elvis Costello and the Imposters. Those were the best of the groups I saw on Sunday up until the Stooges stole the show. Built to Spill’s triple-guitar epics were like sharply defined sonic sculptures. The reunited JAMC’s 1980s tunes were nicely crunchy and catchy, leaning more towards pop than shoegaze. And Costello raced at a breakneck pace through many of his early hits, climaxing with lively versions of “Pump It Up” and “(What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love, and Understanding.” At first, it seemed a bit odd that Costello was playing at Riot Fest, but he reminded everyone that he used to be a punk, too.
I was less excited by the music I heard by the Alkaline Trio, NOFX, Gogol Bordello and the Promise Ring, but that’s mostly a matter of taste. Overall, Riot Fest was a winner of a festival.
Two of the summer’s last big music festivals in Chicago vied for attention this past weekend: the Hideout Block Party, which is always one of the season’s most neighborly musical shindigs, and Riot Fest, which expanded beyond its usual indoor confines to become a truly major event in Humboldt Park. I was at the Hideout on Friday and Saturday, including a two-hour Wilco concert, and then I spent Sunday at Riot Fest, culminating with a stunning show by Iggy & the Stooges.
The Hideout Block Party combined forces this year with the Onion’s A.V. Club (which held a separate fest last year at the same location). But it largely felt like a typical Hideout Block Party, with a heavy emphasis on the sort of alt-country and roots-rock music that is the club’s mainstay, though hardly the only genre you’ll hear within its friendly confines.
The two best bands of the night on Friday played early: Cave got the crowd moving with tight krautrock grooves, and then the War on Drugs channeled its rootsier songs into similarly cycling rhythms. The biggest names on the bill for that first night were Glen Hansard and Iron & Wine — both of whom played perfectly pleasant and respectable sets that were a tad too mellow for a headlining festival slot.
Cave Tim Tuten The War on Drugs Glen Hansard Iron & Wine Iron & Wine
It was worth showing up early for Saturday’s Hideout lineup, which started off at noon with a sterling set of old-fashioned country music by the Lawrence Peters Outfit (led by one of the bar’s regular bartenders). The crowd was still sparse at that hour, but some dancing broke out.
Lawrence Peters Outfit Lawrence Peters Outfit
Next up were the Waco Brothers with Paul Burch, all of them wearing red shirts except for Burch, who made up for it by wearing red shoes. Not surprisingly, given Waco Jon Langford’s history of outspoken support for labor unions, the band was showing its colors in support of Chicago’s striking teachers, and the Wacos played the timely song “Plenty Tough and Union Made.” The Wacos kicked out their catchy riffs with their usual sense of reckless merriment.
Waco Brothers Waco Brothers Waco Brothers and Paul Burch Waco Brothers and Paul Burch
Kelly Hogan’s been on a roll lately, finally releasing a terrific album, I Like to Keep Myself in Pain, after years of keeping her fans waiting for a recording that would match the splendor of her live performances. And she was in top vocal form Saturday afternoon, soulfully singing much of the new album as well as the older song “No Bobby Don’t.”
Kelly Hogan Kelly Hogan Kelly Hogan Kelly Hogan, Jon Langford and Nora O'Connor
The Corin Tucker Band’s set marked the welcome return of the singer-guitarist who was one-third of Sleater-Kinney. The other two members of that band have been rocking out as part of their excellent new band, Wild Flag, but hearing Tucker’s banshee wails and spiky riffs on songs from her new record, Kill My Blues, was a reaffirming reminder of Tucker’s own riot grrrl credentials.
Corin Tucker Band Corin Tucker Band Corin Tucker Band
Performing in the late afternoon, Wild Belle played mellow, reggae-influenced indie pop. More impressive was the solid, driving sounds of the next band, Wye Oak, the Baltimore guitar-and-drums duo. And even better was the act after that, Lee Fields, a soul singer with a sound and songs that evoke the classic tunes of the 1960s. Fields, who released a smartly written and beautifully arranged record this year called Faithful Man, delivered one of the weekend’s best sets with able assistance from his backup band, the Expressions, and a lot of audience members waving their arms.
Wild Belle Wild Belle Wild Belle Wye Oak Wye Oak Wye Oak The Expressions Lee Fields Lee Fields Lee Fields
As darkness fell, Wilco took the stage, which was set up in a city parking lot normally occupied by garbage trucks. “For so many years, they’ve looked past us with the Hideout Block Party,” Wilco leader Jeff Tweedy dryly noted. “What’s up with that? This is one of our favorite places in Chicago. This parking lot. Love the place.”
This Wilco set felt like a bit of a throwback. While the band played the requisite songs you’d expect from its most recent couple of albums, it bookended the show with songs from Being There, and there was plenty from Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, too — including moody, tricky songs such as “Poor Places” and “Radio Cure.” The performance ebbed and flowed from dark moments of meditation to intricate prog guitar solos and rousing, foot-stomping rock — the full range of what this remarkable band is capable of. The eight-song encore included one of the Woody Guthrie lyrics that Wilco wrote music for on the Mermaid Avenue records, “Christ for President” — an apt choice in this election season. After dedicating the song to the Hideout impresario Tim Tuten, Tweedy sang Guthrie’s words: “The only way we can ever beat/These crooked politician men/Is to run the money changers out of the temple/Put the Carpenter in.”
WILCO SET LIST: Misunderstood / Company in my Back / I Might / Sunken Treasure / Either Way / Hummingbird / Impossible Germany / Born Alone / Radio Cure / Handshake Drugs / Wishful Thinking / Whole Love / Kamera / I Must Be High / Nothingsevergonnastandinmyway(again) / Heavy Metal Drummer / Poor Places / Art of Almost ENCORE: Dawned On Me / A Shot In the Arm / Passenger Side / Christ for President / Walken / I’m the Man Who Loves You / Monday / Outtasite (Outta Mind)
Eleven years ago, Karl Wallinger — the man who is the band called World Party — suffered an aneurysm, which left him unable to speak for a time. On Thursday night (Aug. 30), he was back onstage and in fine spirits at that, frequently grinning widely and making self-deprecating jokes as he performed at Chicago’s Cubby Bear.
It’s been 12 years since World Party released a proper album of new material, but Wallinger recently released Arkeology, a five-CD collection of B-sides, live recordings, outtakes and even some new songs. When Wallinger played Thursday night, the focus was squarely on the music he recorded under his World Party moniker from 1986 to 2000. Many of those studio recordings featured elaborate, intricately layered confections reminiscent of the Beatles in psychedelic mode.
But for this tour, Wallinger is doing those songs essentially unplugged, playing acoustic guitar or piano, with accompaniment from just one other musician, violinist-singer David Duffy. Wallinger’s best songs are sturdy enough (with a touch of Bob Dylan folkiness at times) that they sounded quite good, even without all of those production frills. Still, it was hard not to imagine all of those lovely studio touches in your head as you heard Wallinger strumming an acoustic version of “Put the Message in the Box.”
The audience sang the choruses of beloved songs like “Ship of Fools” without any prompting, and Wallinger seemed almost ecstatic to be performing in front of his fans again.
The rainy weather on Sunday (Aug. 26) seemed at first like it might ruin eighth blackbird‘s plans to perform composer John Luther Adams’ piece “Inuksuit” with a hundred or so musicians in Millennium Park. After all, these musicians weren’t just going to be playing on the Pritzker Pavilion’s stage. The idea of this performance (and Adams’ concept) is that the musicians would perform at various scattered spots all over the park.
Some daring concertgoers took seats in front of the stage, staying dry under the pavilion’s roof, but then one of the ensemble members explained that we’d have to venture out onto the lawn to experience the music in the first section of Adams’ piece. It was hard to tell at first that the music had even begun. Some people carrying umbrellas or wearing ponchos formed a circle in the lawn, watching something and a sound emerged from that circle — the sound of people blowing into seashells.
First came the hornlike sound of seashells. And then people waved plastic tubes, making a high-pitched hum. Then came a clatter of drums from all over the lawn. And then other participants began cranking hand-operated sirens. What had begun like an atmospheric backdrop of sounds recorded on a beach sounded like a man-made thunderstorm, complete with sirens warning us all to take shelter. And almost as soon as “Inuksuit” reached this dramatic sensation of alarm, the rain really began to pour down. As it happened, the drummers assembled in front of the stage were playing now, which made it a convenient time to seek shelter up there.
I couldn’t see what happened to the musicians out on the lawn after this — how many of them stayed out there. Adams’ layers of percussion eventually gave way to a tranquil coda of glockenspiels dueling with bird-mimicking piccolos. The peaceful ending of this stormy composition lingered awhile, finally fading into silence. Silence except for the ambient sound of that rain, which was still coming down hard. The audience paused. If others were thinking the same thing as me, they were uncertain whether the music had actually ended. Finally, someone shouted “Bravo!” and the crowd gave the performers a rousing ovation. It felt like we had been part of the performance.
Is Wussy “the best band in America,” as the “Dean of Rock Critics,” Robert Christgau, recently proclaimed? Well, not quite, in my opinion. But Wussy is a pretty terrific band, with a string of four great records since 2005 (or five, if you count a limited-edition acoustic record). And this is exactly the sort of band that deserves some hyperbolic praise from a famous rock critic. So if Robert Christgau wants to kick the rest of the world in the pants for not paying attention to a little Cincinnati band he loves, who can blame him?
Wussy’s been flying under most people’s radar for the past seven years. Their excellent 2011 record, Strawberry, was barely noticed by critics and music websites. Wussy has played in Chicago a few times, but the gigs have always been low-profile and low-publicity. I’d never seen Wussy (though I did see the Ass Ponys, a previous band featuring Wussy’s Chuck Cleaver, once at Lounge Ax), and I was starting to wonder when I’d ever get a chance. After Strawberry came out, the band failed to make a Chicago appearance in 2011. And then most of 2012 passed by without a gig here. Finally… the Wussy website listed an Aug. 25 show at the Bucktown Arts Fest. This is not one of Chicago’s more prominent street festivals, but hey, at least Wussy was finally coming to my city. Like previous Wussy shows here, this one happened without much publicity, though Chicagoist ran a nice preview.
And so it was that Wussy at last took the stage Saturday afternoon, in front of a small bunch of appreciative fans as well as a bunch of festivalgoers who probably had no idea who they were. Such is the nature of small street festivals. Who knows what all of the bystanders thought, but the hard-core fans seemed to love it. Playing songs stretching from the first Wussy album up to the most recent, the band captured that loose and occasionally ragged spirit that makes its records sound so real. Cleaver and the band’s other singer-guitarist, Lisa Walker, were in good spirits, with self-deprecating jokes. After audience members shouted out some requests, they departed from their set list to give the fans what they wanted. Thanks, Wussy.
Wussy’s coming back to Chicago in October, but this time, the band will be opening for the Afghan Whigs at Metro. Later, they’re playing some dates elsewhere in the U.S. as the opening act for Heartless Bastards. I’m hoping they win some new fans in the process. In the meantime, all of Wussy’s records are streaming and available for sale at the band’s Bandcamp page. You can also buy these records from Wussy’s local Cincinnati label, Shake It Records.
R.I.P. Bill Doss. The singer for the Olivia Tremor Control and member of the Elephant 6 psychedelic collective has died at the age of 43. No news yet on the circumstances, but the news comes as a shock just a few weeks after Doss and the Olivia Tremor Control performed at the Pitchfork Music Festival. Here’s a photo I took of Doss in March 2011, when he played during the Elephant 6 Holiday Surprise Tour show at Lincoln Hall:
Bill Doss
And here’s an audience video of the Olivia Tremor Control playing one of their best songs, “Hideaway,” at the recent Pitchfork Fest:
Another R.I.P. — but this one is for a band, Hollows. This Chicago girl group (well, mostly girl group) had just released am album of strong, catchy tunes, Vulture, so it came as a shock when Loud Loop Press reported that the band’s July 17 show at the Burlington could be its last — at least, for the band’s current incarnation. The reason? Lead singer Maria Jenkins is moving to New York. During the set at the Burlington that night, Jenkins told the crowd of adoring fans, “This is our last show ever. You’re never gonna hear this shit again.” And then, as Hollows took off their guitar straps after the last song, the fans practically pleaded for an encore. But the girls of Hollows would play no more. At least one of them was crying as they left the stage.
I didn’t take photos at the Burlington show, but here’s a photo Maria Jenkins singing with Hollows back on June 7, 2010, when they opened for She and Him at Millennium Park:
Leroy Bach, formerly of Wilco and various other bands, played a rather interesting set July 24 at the Hideout. Bach led a sextet of acoustic guitarists, sitting on chairs in the Hideout’s front room, playing unamplified in front of about 20 people. The apparently improvised and often discordant music sounded like layered drones, a live analog version of looping, with overlapping figures going in and out of synch. The music was hushed but oddly unsettling.
Kalman Balogh, a Hungarian master of the cimbalom, played July 26 at Martyr’s, making hauntingly beautiful music on that Old World instrument, which sounds like a cousin of the dulcimer and harpsichord. (Thanks to the Chicago Reader for tipping me off to this show.)
Wicker Park Fest happened Saturday and Sunday, continuing Chicago’s string of street festivals. I was there for part of the day on Saturday, catching Screaming Females, Cursive, Walter Salas-Humara and a supergroup called the Baseball Project — which usually includes Peter Buck, Scott McCaughey, Steve Wynn and Linda Pitmon. Buck didn’t play with the band on Saturday, but oddly enough, another member of R.E.M., Mike Mills, did. Ira Kaplan of Yo La Tengo (who are recording in Chicago lately) also joined in for one songs. The Baseball Project’s songs, all of them about baseball, were generally pretty catchy and fun, but the highlight of the show came when Mills sang the R.E.M. classic “(Don’t Go Back To) Rockville.”
Screaming Females Screaming Females Screaming Females Screaming Females Walter Salas-Humara Scott McCaughey of the Baseball Project Steve Wynn and Mike Mills of the Baseball Project Steve Wynn of the Baseball Project Linda Pitmon of the Baseball Project Steve Wynn, Mike Mills and Scott McCaughey of the Baseball Project Mike Mills of the Baseball Project Cursive
Were those tears on Charles Bradley’s face or just beads of sweat? Both, I’d venture to guess. It had been about 100 degrees earlier in the day and was still fairly steamy when Bradley hit the stage Monday night (July 16) at Millennium Park’s Pritzker Pavilion — and he’s an energetic performer who tends to sweat anyway, in the tradition of another singer he resembles in many ways, the legendarily hardworking James Brown. But Bradley’s songs are also drenched with emotion.
Just as he did at last summer’s Chicago gig, Bradley strained his voice to the limits, screaming and shouting and squeezing out notes bursting with both pain and passion. His band, the Extraordinaries, kept a soulful groove bouncing through the whole set, including a few instrumental tracks, but the focus was on Bradley, who truly seemed to wow the audience with his unbridled intensity as well as his heartfelt comments. His encore made a strong case for “Why Is It So Hard” being one of the great songs of recent years, and as the song ended, Bradley descended from the stage and hugged some of his fans across the security barricade for several minutes.
Speaking of security barricades… Bradley urged audience members to get up close to the stage and start dancing, but Millennium Park’s security guards refused to let anyone into that area (reserved for press photographer such as myself), or even to stand in the aisles. Security concerns and keeping the aisles open are legitimate concerns, but surely the guards could lighten up a bit. At least, people were allowed to stand up in front of their seats and sway to Bradley’s soul-baring soul music. thecharlesbradley.com
Charles Bradley Charles Bradley Charles Bradley Charles Bradley Charles Bradley Charles Bradley Charles Bradley Charles Bradley Charles Bradley Charles Bradley The Extraordinaires
Monday’s free concert also featured an excellent opening act, folk singer-songwriter-banjoist Abigail Washburn. She sang lovely original compositions as well as a couple of old gospel and folk songs of the sort that you’ll hear on Alan Lomax’s field recordings — and even a song in Chinese, which she learned when she lived in China. Washburn’s music was often quiet and spare, sounding beautiful and crystal clear in the summer air at the Pritzker Pavilion, making the concert feel like an intimate gathering despite the epic proportions of the venue. abigailwashburn.com
I went into the 2012 Pitchfork Music Festival with skepticism. Vampire Weekend as a headliner? Meh. Not my cup of tea. The same goes for several of the other big names Pitchfork booked for its annual festival, including Beach House and Sleigh Bells, to name just a couple. And yet, as always, Pitchfork also included some top-notch bands — and a bunch of artists I was largely unfamiliar with.
Purity Ring
My duties included taking photos for WBEZ’s website, and I wasn’t always able to stick around for full sets. Some of my regrets include not seeing more of Purity Ring, a Canadian duo that delivered a highly intriguing show of Björkeseque art rock on Friday night — and missing The Men altogether on Sunday. But it’s impossible to see and hear everything. Other bands I want to hear more from after catching a few songs: Milk Music, Unknown Mortal Orchestra and Youth Lagoon.
I’ll leave the hip-hop and electronic dance music reviews to others, though I did enjoy the energy I felt as I was standing in the photo pit in front of the fans waving their arms for Flying Lotus, AraabMuzik and The Field. Some of the laptop artists, including Clam Casino, left a lot to be desired from a photographer’s viewpoint. Just how many different shots can you take of a guy pressing a space bar as he stares blankly at a computer screen? Even if I weren’t taking pictures, I’d feel bored watching these performers.
Godspeed You! Black Emperor
Some of the musical acts seemed too subtle for the setting, but let’s give credit to the devoted fans and adventurous listeners who gathered in front of the stages for artists such as Tim Hecker and Godspeed You! Black Emperor, putting their brains to work as they took in the musical undulations washing over them. GY!BE is fierce and fabulous, and their Saturday-night closing set was fantastic in many ways, but it felt strange coming right after Hot Chip’s peppy dance pop. The Pitchfork programmers seem to revel in these jarring juxtapositions. GY!BE’s epic instrumental compositions slowly built to frantic climaxes as the band’s trademark film projections cast an atmosphere of urban decay in the midst of the dimming park.
Feist played a decent if not exactly rousing headline set on Friday night, boosted by the presence of the excellent female trio Mountain Man on backup vocals. Sunday’s festival-closing show by Vampire Weekend drew an almost frenzied response from a throng of young fans, but the band’s music was as bland as ever.
As for the other hyped bands I was skeptical about: Sleigh Bells was highly entertaining to watch, whipping up an enthusiastic response from the audience, but the band failed to break out of its noisy-riff formula, boring me when I wasn’t up-close and watching singer Alexis Krauss and her hair flying around the stage. On the other hand, Beach House was as stiff as ever, barely moving as the duo intoned its pretty but ultimately soporific pop creations. Cloud Nothings played with impressive energy and the band’s fans loved it, but I still found the group’s songs a little lacking.
Willis Earl Beal
So what was great? Willis Earl Beal’s booming voice and his reel-to-reel recorder. The ladies of Wild Flag holding their guitars aloft as they tore through Television’s “See No Evil” and their own excellent rock songs. The perfectly pretty retro girl pop music of Cults. The mellowness of Real Estate, which felt right on a sunny afternoon. The mind-bending harmonies and pretzel-twisty guitar lines of Dirty Projectors. Outer Minds, Thee Oh Sees and Ty Segall digging hard into their ’60s Nuggets-style garage rock. Fans moshing and crowd-surfing to bands including Thee Oh Sees and Segall.
In fact, Segall himself surfed almost all the way across his audience and back to the stage. Alas, I failed to capture this moment on my camera — not realizing until later that Segall was that dude who seemed to be setting an Olympic record for longest time aloft. Here’s a video from Sei Jin Lee:
Now, that’s what an outdoor music festival is supposed to be all about.
See my photos from the 2012 Pitchfork Music Festival: Day 1 / Day 2 / Day 3
Dirty Beaches Dirty Beaches A Lull A Lull Unknown Mortal Orchestra Unknown Mortal Orchestra Unknown Mortal Orchestra Milk Music Milk Music Milk Music Iceage Iceage Thee Oh Sees Thee Oh Sees Thee Oh Sees Thee Oh Sees Thee Oh Sees Ty Segall Ty Segall Band Ty Segall Ty Segall Ty Segall Ty Segall Band Crowd surfing during Ty Segall Crowd surfing during Ty Segall Real Estate Real Estate Real Estate Chavez Chavez Chavez Chavez AraabMuzik Beach House Beach House Beach House The Field The Field The Field Vampire Weekend Vampire Weekend Vampire Weekend
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Saturday night (July 7) at Schubas was the umpteenth time I’ve seen the Sadies, but they’re a band that deserves to be seen umpteen times. I would have seen them yet again on Monday at the Pritzker Pavilion, too, but I opted instead for the wonderful combo of Robbie Fulks and Sally Timms at the Hideout.
After leaving West Fest and taking the bus to Schubas, I walked in just in time for the glorious opening riff of “Memphis, Egypt,” the classic Mekons song — which was the opening number for the opening act, Jon Langford and His Sadies. (Langford joked about the Sadies as if they were a separate band coming up later in the show.) The Sadies play that Mekons music fiercely … and then, when it was time for the main act, they returned to the stage and impressed me all over again with their telepathic guitar playing. It all culminated with another great medley of covers during the encore. I’m hard-pressed to name all the songs that crammed into this 10-minute-plus epic, but it was all bluesy ’60s garage rock, including the Count Five’s “Psychotic Reaction” and the Belfast Gypsies’ “People, Let’s Freak Out,” among others.
Last Saturday (July7) at West Fest, Man or Astroman? donned space suits and shiny orange outfits, reeled off one blazing surf rock guitar riff after another, and then set a Theremin on fire. It was a blast.
And then came the evening’s headliners, the Black Lips, who stomped their way through one Nuggets-style garage rock tune after another, many of them outfitted with catchy choruses, which had the crowd singing along to some of the familiar songs. The people near the stage did more than sing along — they moshed and pumped their fists into the air, and a few of them managed to get on top of their fellow audience members for some crowd-surfing. Many rolls of toilet paper were tossed back and forth.
Time to catch up on some concerts I’ve seen lately. Back on July 8, I saw Rogers Water perform Pink Floyd’s The Wall at Wrigley Field, a spectacle with plenty of bombast and muddled metaphors, and yet some weirdly small moments — if that’s possible — featuring that one guy, Waters, standing way down there like an ant, dwarfed by the iconic wall behind him, and singing his old songs for 40,000 fans. Those were the times with at least a tiny touch of spontaneity sneaked its way into the highly rehearsed and plotted-out proceedings. I did not bring my camera and I sat way up in a nose-bleed section. I attempted to take a few photos with my cellphone, seen below.
Rogers Waters at Wrigley Field (before the concert) Rogers Waters at Wrigley Field
The following night, June 9, was quite a change of scenery. From Wrigley Field to the Hideout, where alt-country singer-songwriter Megan Reilly was playing achingly beautiful songs from her great new album, The Well, backed by an exceptional band: guitarist James Mastro, bassist Tony Maimone (of Pere Ubu fame) and drummer Steve Goulding (of Mekons fame). The room wasn’t as full as it should’ve been for this show, but in its own way, it was more spectacular than seeing Roger Waters at Wrigley Field. (I had every intention of taking photos at this concert, until I made the boneheaded error of grabbing the wrong camera … the one with a dead battery in it.)
On June 15, The Figgs played a rocking set of power pop at Ultra Lounge — including a nifty cover of the Who’s “Happy Jack.” It was another show that deserved a bigger crowd, oddly coming one night after the Figgs opened for Smashing Pumpkins at Metro.
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The Figgs had three opening bands — the Lustkillers, the Cry and the Van Buren Boys — in an evening filled with plenty of power pop and hair gel.
The Van Buren Boys The Cry The Lustkillers
On June 16, Baby Dee played at the Old Town School of Folk Music’s Szold Hall, in the school’s new building across Lincoln Avenue from its main center. With a small crowd sitting silently in the room, it felt a bit like a classical music recital, except for the fact that the irrepressibly odd and ribald Baby Dee was saying things such as: “Are there any crack whores here tonight?” Her “dirges,” as she calls them, came across with nuance in the acoustically perfect room.
June 17 at the Taste of Randolph Street, David Vandervelde played the best set I’ve seen him do so far, with a fantastic band that featured bassist Ben Clarke and guitarist Emmett Kelly, a.k.a. Bonnie “Prince” Billy sideman the Cairo Gang. During a couple of long, Crazy Horse-style jams, Vandervelde and Kelly were soloing on top of each other, to riveting effect. Let’s hope they keep working together and that Vandervelde gets a new album out sometime soon. Vandervelde played a couple of Jay Bennett covers during his surprisingly long (hour-plus) set, opening with the mordantly humorous “Beer.”
David Vandervelde David Vandervelde David Vandervelde David Vandervelde Emmett Kelly and Ben Clarke
After an opening act of some fire-juggling circus folk…
Pyrotechniq Pyrotechniq
… The Hold Steady closed out Taste of Randolph with a set that rocked pretty hard from beginning to end — quite a change from frontman Craig Finn’s recent solo performance at Do Division. Now that keyboardist Franz Nicolay is no longer in the band, the sound is all guitars. A bit of keyboard would have helped for variety’s sake, but the band sounded tight, including a couple of new songs in its set.
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Thursday (June 21), Late Bar hosted a cool set by Astrobrite, a shoegaze band that started in the ’90s and recently had its first album reissued by Chicago’s BLVD label. BLVD impresario Melissa Geils joined the band on keyboards at this gig, which was delightfully noisy.
The opening act, Cinchel (a.k.a. my friend Jason Shanley), played noise of a different kind, the droning and shimmering sort. Cinchel has a dreamy new record out called Stereo Stasis — check it out on bandcamp.
Cinchel Cinchel
On Friday (June 22), I caught one set by Jason Adasiewicz and his new band Sun Rooms — a trio that also includes Mike Reed on drums and Matt McBridge on bass — at the Green Mill. Adasiewicz assaulted his vibraphone with alarming force at times, but still managed to coax lovely sounds out of it.
After that stop at the Green Mill, it was over to the Logan Square bar Township, where I saw an exhilarating set by Treasure Fleet, a Chicago band showing some strong similarities to the great Bee Thousand-era tunes of Guided By Voices, as well as 1960s psychedelia and power pop.
Finally, on Saturday (June 23), I arrived at Schubas just in time to see a stunning performance by saxophonist Colin Stetson. From what I hear, I missed great opening sets by Chicago percussionist Frank Rosaly and Arcade Fire violinist Sarah Neufeld. Interestingly, each of the three acts at Schubas last night played alone. Stetson sounded more like a whole band, however. Playing an immense bass sax on most songs and occasionally switching over to an alto, Stetson created undulating patterns of notes reminiscent of minimalist classical music, and then he somehow managed to add internal melodies and tunes on top of all that, which sounded at times more like human singing than woodwind. The crowd watched and listened in rapt silence, and Stetson worked up a good sweat with the sheer exertion of his powerful and impressive music.
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The Eternals are one of the hardest Chicago bands to pin down, as they slip from one musical form into another. In recent times, they’ve been just a duo (Damon Locks and Wayne Montana) playing funky, jazzy, experimental rock. But for their concert last week (June 12) at Millennium Park’s Jay Pritzker Pavilion, the Eternals expanded to a massive, 10-musician lineup. And the band played nothing other than one long suite of new music called “Espiritu Zombi.” The new and perhaps temporary members of the Eternals for this occasion included 1900s vocalist Jeanine O’Toole, bassist Matt Lux, cellist Tomeka Reid and the always-animated vibraphonist Jason Adasiewicz.
Those vibes gave this zombie music a flavor that was reminiscent of another Chicago outfit, Exploding Star Orchestra. Not coincidentally, Locks has performed with that ensemble in the past. And the extra vocalists added new levels of beauty and complexity previously unheard in the strange world of the Eternals. The suite was an audacious and ambitious composition, which deserved the spotlight it received in this prominent venue. Decked out in psychedelic attire, Locks danced with elbow-jutting moves, a dapper weirdo reveling in his moment on the city’s big stage.
Last Thursday (June 7) was my first visit to the music room that Logan Square’s Burlington bar added a while ago. It’s small room with mostly unadorned brick walls. It feels a bit like an actual garage. Perfect for some loud punk rock played by musicians in sweat-drenched T-shirts.
And that’s just what I saw — a great triple bill, including Chicago’s own Football, the ungainly named OBN III’s from Austin, Texas, and Royal Headache from Australia. As I was taking photographs, I think I nearly got kicked in the head by the guys in Football. (No offense taken.) Then the OBN III’s frontman reached out to touch my head. (I wasn’t the only audience member he stared at with alarming intensity as the band slammed out some rough and rugged riffs.) Royal Headache’s frontman worked out his nervous energy by pacing back and forth across the stage, while the bassist stood with his back to the crowd. The members of the band looked oddly disconnected from one another, but the loud, pounding songs connected.
Football Football Football Football OBN III's OBN III's OBN III's OBN III's OBN III's OBN III's OBN III's OBN III's Royal Headache Royal Headache Royal Headache Royal Headache
“It’s not a concert,” Jonathan Richman told the audience Monday night (June 4) at the Jay Pritzker Pavilion in Chicago’s Millennium Park. “It’s supposed to be more like a party. That’s why I sang all the songs with the word ‘party.'” And indeed, Richman’s performance — like any Richman performance — didn’t feel like a normal concert. Not exactly a party, either. Not a party hosted by a normal person, anyway. Richman doesn’t seem like a normal person, and that’s much of the reason why it’s so entertaining and funny and touching to watch him play his music.
Richman followed the same format he’s used in his concerts for many years now, playing an unamplified classical guitar into a microphone as he sings, accompanied by just one musician, drummer Tommy Larkins, who plays a plot with brushes as he keeps a minimally invasive beat going underneath Richman’s loopy tunes. Richman frequently sets his guitar down or holds it to the side as he sings or interjects jokes and wry commentary into the middle of his songs. And whenever the impulse strikes, Richman stops everything else to dance and shake some percussion. As one of these dancing interludes went on for a few minutes, Richman remarked, “We can only get away with this for so long. Pretty soon we’ll have to switch to another song.” And so he did.
Richman sang in Italian, French, Hebrew and Spanish and maybe some other languages, too, helpfully offering English translations that only heightened the sense of absurdity. He sang tributes to Vermeer and Keith Richards. He reminisced about dancing in the lesbian bar and got the crowd to sing along about opening the door to Bohemia. A big, goofy grin stretched across his face. He seemed to be smiling at the reaction of the crowd. Then again, I have the feeling Richman would have been smiling no matter what.
Tommy Larkins
In a somewhat unusual pairing, the opening act for Richman was jazz guitarist Bobby Broom and his Deep Blue Organ Trio, who made some groovy music, including a cover of the Doors’ “Light My Fire.” Not exactly what you’d expect before seeing Jonathan Richman, but since Richman’s so uncategorizable, it made about as much sense as anything would.
Bobby Broom Chris Foreman of the Deep Blue Organ Trio Greg Rockingham of the Deep Blue Organ Trio
This past weekend’s Do Division Festival featured a strong schedule of local and touring bands. Standout performers from Chicago included Mannequin Men and Pinebender, who pummeled away at their post-punk songs. Craig Finn of the Hold Steady played a rare solo acoustic show. He’s better with a band backing him up, but the low-key format put the focus on his smart narrative lyrics. The Besnard Lakes soared with majestic guitar solos and keening falsetto vocals. And the Antlers wove intricate musical pieces together into melancholic art rock, playing a fine festival-closing set that would have been even better if they’d played more from their 2009 album Hospice.
But no one else at the festival could match the sheer spectacle of Le Butcherettes, who played Saturday night. The band’s front woman, Teresa Suaréz aka Teri Gender Bender, was not wearing the bloody butcher’s apron she donned at some previous concerts; for this outing she wore a tight dress that struggled all night to conceal her panties. Suaréz clearly revels in flaunting her sex appeal when she’s onstage, but she also sings, screams, rolls her eyes, pounds her keyboard and shakes her hair with such abandon that it feels more like some sort of punk performance art than a striptease act. In between songs, she often put her hands together and bowed, thanking the audience in a polite gesture that contorted sharply with her lack of inhibition during the songs, which are reminiscent at times of PJ Harvey during her early years. The climax on Saturday came when she crouched down behind her keyboard, then rose up to smash the instrument on the stage, stomping on it. Maybe it’s all an act, but the frenzy was visceral.
I posted photos of Le Butcherettes in a previous blog post, and another one is below. My friend Seijin Lee captured much of the performance on video, including this clip, which includes the moment of keyboard smashing around the 5:00 mark:
Le Butcherettes Pinebender Pinebender Pinebender Pinebender Pinebender Pinebender The Antlers The Antlers The Antlers The Antlers The Antlers
Photos from the Do Division Festival on Saturday, June 2.
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Patrick Watson called his new record Adventures in Your Own Backyard because he recorded it almost entirely inside his apartment in Montreal. Nothing about it is lo-fi, however — it’s a beautiful recording of some of the most beautiful music yet from this excellent Canadian singer-songwriter, who makes delicate pop, rock and folk music with the sort of sophistication and subtle touches heard more often in chamber music or old pop standards. He’s in the same musical realm as Andrew Bird, Rufus Wainwright and the late Jeff Buckley.
And on Friday, Watson and his nimble band brought their musical adventures to Chicago’s Lincoln Hall, playing outstanding new songs such as “Lighthouse” and “Words in the Fire” along with fan favorites such as “Beijing” and “The Great Escape” from previous Watson albums. Watson spent most of the show sitting at the piano, although sitting hardly seems like the right word to describe what he was doing. While he doesn’t dance on his instrument as Jerry Lee Lewis does, Watson did make the piano seem like a living partner in the act of music-making as he coaxed lively but precise runs of notes out of it. The audience clearly included a good number of devoted Watson fans, who sang the backup harmonies impressively and shouted out requests. At one point, Watson apologized for not being able to show a movie he usually screens during one of his songs. “You can imagine the move that’s supposed to happen now,” he remarked. “It’s an imagination game tonight.” And indeed, his music did inspire all sorts of pictures in the mind. adventuresinyourownbackyard.com
Millennium Park’s Jay Pritzker Pavilion opened its season of free concerts on Memorial Day (May 28) with a stellar selection: Kelly Hogan, who has an outstanding new record, I Like to Keep Myself in Pain, coming out any day now. I had the privilege of interviewing Hogan for the A.V. Club. Hogan’s all-star studio band isn’t touring with her, but she put together another crack outfit of musicians to play her new songs: Jim Elkington on guitar, Casey McDonough on bass and Joe Camarillo on drums — plus (for this gig anyway) Scott Ligon on organ and “piano situation” and Nora O’Connor on harmony vocals and guitar. But of course, Hogan herself was the center of attention, as she greeted the crowd with her irreverent banter and wowed us with her voice, whether she was belting out notes with deep strength or cooing more delicate tones.
Hogan and her band played every song from the new record, not straying too far from the studio versions but varying up the delivery and arrangements like a jazz combo comfortable with its ability to make changes on the spot. The encore began with a lovely performance of the Magnetic Fields song “Papa Was a Rodeo,” which Hogan recorded back in 2000. Ligon gently plucked Elkington’s nylon-string guitar as Hogan’s only accompaniment — until O’Connor returned to the stage midsong and took over the lead vocals on the final verse, making the tune into an endearing duet.
Monday’s opening act was Local H singer-guitarist Scott Lucas’ other band, Scott Lucas & the Married Men, who also have a new record coming out June 5, Blood Half Moon. Lucas and his band delivered a pretty fierce performance, particularly on the closing song — which also closes the new record — a dark, heavy incantation, the traditional song “There Ain’t No Grave (Gonna Hold My Body Down).” When the band stopped and Lucas kept chanting the chorus a few more times, he looked slightly possessed.
Chicago’s terrific HoZac Records brought its annual Blackout Fest to the Empty Bottle this past weekend, May 18-20, for three long nights filled with lots and lots of rock music — mostly garage rock, with a bit of punk, power pop and classic ’60s psychedelic music thrown in for good measure. Many, but not all, of the bands are on the HoZac label, and nearly all of them shared a similar spirit of banging out scrappy yet tuneful songs with enthusiasm.
This was the sort of festival where an audience member would boo (jokingly, I think) at the very sight of an acoustic guitar. That was during Friday’s set by Cozy, but haters of mellow music had nothing to worry about — the band strummed a few acoustic chords before jumping back into the rock. And while some of the musicians swaggered and flailed with punk attitude, many of them were more nonchalant in their stage manner. The Ketamines set the tone by dryly announcing: “We’re going to play 12 songs and then we’re going to stop.”
The festival’s two biggest names were Saturday headliners Redd Kross and Sunday’s closing act, Roky Erickson. Redd Kross is getting ready to release its first album in 15 years, Researching the Blues, which will come out Aug. 7 on Merge Records. Judging from the title song (download it here), Redd Kross’s new music sounds much like its old — power pop with a hard edge. Saturday’s set started off with a complete performance of the band’s 1981 album Born Innocent, which provided some raucous fun — although personally, I would have preferred to hear a full run-through of Redd Kross’ 1993 record Phaseshifter. The band did play some songs from that album later in its set, as well as a cover of the Runaways’ “Cherry Bomb.”
Erickson, the legendary former leader of the 13th Floor Elevators, has been back on the concert circuit for a few years now, recovering from a long absence due to legal problems and mental illness. Erickson seemed to be in a good place Sunday night, smiling as he sang and played guitar, backed by a strong and hard-rocking band. The audience in the sold-out venue sang along to many choruses and was rewarded at the end with the 13th Floor Elevators classic, “You’re Gonna Miss Me.”
There were many other fine performances throughout the weekend. My favorites included Barreracudas, who played head-bopping pop-punk; Far-Out Fangtooth, who delved more into dark psych sounds reminiscent of the Black Angels; Fungi Girls, who sound like the house band at some mysterious road house circa 1966; and Bare Mutants, who grooved to a Velvet Underground-style beat.
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The band called Mahogany has been around since 1995, going through a few different configurations and styles over that time. Their music has been labeled dream pop and shoegaze. They’ve made electronic and orchestral rock. Their website says they’re “an electric music-based multidisciplinary media ensemble” with “a combination of vocals, cello, massed guitars, pianos, melodicas, sequencers, synthesizers, samplers, tape, percussion, and other instruments.” But when Mahogany played Saturday night (May 5) at Subterranean, that’s not actually what the band was like at all. Mahogany was more in full-on-rock mode, making a wall of lovely noise with guitar strings instead of all that other stuff. And that probably offers a good hint at what Mahogany’s next record is going to sound like … but you never know.
During their first decade together (1995-2005), the Waco Brothers cranked out seven studio albums. But then, seven years went by without a new record of original Wacos material. That’s not the say the band disappeared. They’ve kept on playing lots of gigs (in Chicago, anyway). Jon Langford and other members of the band have continued making music under other guises. But no new Wacos songs. Until now.
The new record on the Bloodshot label is not just by the Waco Brothers — it’s by the Waco Brothers and Paul Burch. And the Wacos aren’t merely serving as the backup band for Paul Burch, an alt-country crooner. It’s more like Burch has been recruited as an auxiliary Waco, singing and writing most but not all of the new songs. And a fine bunch of new songs it is, kicking off with the title track, “Great Chicago Fire,” co-written by Burch and Langford. The song’s opening line turns a famous quote by Johnny Rotten — “Ever get the feeling you’ve been cheated?” — into a memorable melodic hook.
The Wacos and Burch celebrated their new album with a gig Thursday (April 26) at FitzGerald’s in Berwyn, and the new songs survived the ultimate test, fitting right in with the old tunes that are longtime audience favorites. Burch fit right in, too, standing in the middle of that long line of microphone stands. The Wacos already had an abundance of lead singers (Langford, Dean Schlabowske and Tracy Dear, not to mention bassist Alan Doughty, who often jumps into the fray with backup vocals). But why not add another? The Wacos’ attitude seems to be, “the more, the merrier.”
The Chicago bluegrass band Tanglewood opened for the Waco Brothers with a set highlighted by their cool cover of the Undertones’ “Teenage Kicks.” Perhaps not coincidentally, it’s a song that Paul Burch covered back in 2007, when he opened for the Mekons at the Mutiny.
The San Francisco band Terry Malts played a tight set of melodic garage/punk rock April 24 at the Empty Bottle, capping off an evening of cool music that also featured Chicago’s Unicycle Loves You (who sparked an onstage dance party) and the scrappy guitar-and-drums duo Soft Jolts.
Terry Malts Terry Malts Terry Malts Terry Malts Terry Malts Terry Malts Terry Malts Terry Malts Terry Malts Unicycle Loves You Unicycle Loves You Unicycle Loves You Soft Jolts Soft Jolts
The emergence of Willis Earl Beal is one of the most fascinating Chicago music stories of the past year. A year ago, he was “super unknown,” as the headline of a terrific Chicago Reader story by Leor Galil put it. Beal was essentially an outsider artist, making lo-fi tapes of his music, never performing in public, without any myspace page or anything like that, who was posting strange flyers about himself, which led to his discovery by Found magazine and the Reader. Now, somehow, Beal landed a deal with a prestigious record label, XL, which has just released an album of his home recordings, Acousmastic Sorcery.
Beal played last night at the Hideout. Although he recently opened for SBTRKT at the House of Blues, this was apparently his first headlining gig in Chicago. As he took the stage in a leather jacket and shades, he remarked, “Since you all came to see me, we’re going to do this my way.” Doing it his way included opening the show with a reading of the Charles Bukowski poem “The Harder You Try.” Then came an a cappella song, followed by several songs featuring Beal singing to tracks he’d records — on a reel-to-reel tape machine, of all things.
He played one song on guitar, briefly struggling with an out-of-tune acoustic and then playing an electric guitar he was unfamiliar with. His guitar playing was rudimentary, off-kilter and almost arhythmic, but his singing was soulful and impassioned. For another song, he sat down at the piano, playing simple notes as he sang. Both of these songs made you wonder what Beal would sound like with professional musicians backing him. Would it enhance his music, or detract from its quirky appeal? As things stand now, Beal is an unusual songwriter and performer who doesn’t easily fit into any category. There are touches of Tom Waits and Screaming Jay Hawkins in what he does. He showed that he’s capable of great blues and soul vocals, but his reel-to-reel accompaniment pushed the songs into stranger, more surreal territory.
Beal went back to a cappella for the final song of the night, “Same Old Tears” — a powerful performance that featured the audience clapping the beat. I videotaped that song and Beal’s comments afterward:
After the song ended, Beal made it clear he’s not that happy with his debut record. “It’s not a reflection of what you just saw on the stage,” he said. “It’s some shit I did when, I just like, I didn’t know what I was doing. It’s like walking in on somebody on the toilet. So, like, buy it, you know, to fill my pockets, but it’s not what you just saw. Also, I’m not a fucking musician. I am a motivational speaker, with harmonious inclinations.” Beal’s being too harsh about his record. He may not have known what he was doing, but that could explain part of what makes Beal so magical.
The opening act last night provided a nice bonus: Quarter Mile Thunder, a new band led by Ben Clarke, played haunting, quiet folk rock with a moody, atmospheric mix of acoustic guitar, piano and synth. “We’ve got a record done if anybody wants to put it out,” Clarke said, prompting some laughs. “It’s true.” Indeed, you can stream the album, Twist, at http://soundcloud.com/quartermilethunder/sets/twist/s-Xmjx9.
The Canadian band Cowboy Junkies has never quite matched the attention it got for the 1988 album The Trinity Session, but the group never went away, either, building up a big discography over the years. The latest additions are four albums conceived as a series and released within 18 months — the “Nomad” records, each with a different theme or style, and all collected now in a boxed set, along with a fifth disc of outtakes. That’s a lot of new music for the band to perform — and for listeners to absorb.
When Cowboy Junkies played Saturday night (April 14) at SPACE in Evanston, singer Margo Timmins sounded somewhat apologetic as she explained that the band would devote the entire first set to music from the “Nomad” albums. But she promised the crowd would hear its old favorites during the second set. That turned out to be a winning strategy, giving enough focus to the new music while satisfying everyone’s desire to hear songs such as “Misguided Angel,” “Sweet Jane” and “Murder, Tonight, in the Trailer Park.” The new songs included “Wrong Piano” and “Square Room,” two selections from Demons, a “Nomad” album of songs written by the late, great Vic Chesnutt. The old songs included some audience requests that the band hand’t played in a while, including a little gem from 1992, “A Horse in the Country.”
Margo Timmins’ voice still sounded much as it did when everyone heard it for the first time in that quiet masterpiece The Trinity Session. She often draped one of her arms on the microphone stand in front of her, giving the impression of someone who was just casually hanging out on the stage rather than a performer who was the center of attention. That stance fit perfectly with the conversational tone of her singing: breathy but not whispered, confessional but not melodramatic, beautiful but completely natural.
Her brother Michael Timmins played guitar, including those insistently strummed chords that the Junkies took from inspirations like the Velvet Underground, but didn’t say a word, seeming very much like a modest sideman, despite the fact that he writes almost all of the music and words. Another sibling, drummer Peter Timmins, and bassist Alan Anton anchored the hypnotic grooves, while frequent Junkies collaborator Jeff Bird filled out the sound with percussion, harmonica and mandolin. He played the mandolin more like an electric guitar at many points, playing fiery solos. But for the most part, the band’s sound was smoldering.
The Chicago band Disappears is sounding better than ever on its third album, Pre Language, with more concise and direct rock songs — not that there was anything wrong with band’s longer krautrock jams and drones on previous records. The presence of Sonic Youth drummer Steve Shelley as a full-fledged member of the Disappears seems to have given the group a new sense of focus, and a few of the songs have the driving force of Sonic Youth at its most song-oriented.
Disappears slammed out several of the great riffs from its new record Thursday evening (April 12) during a mini-concert at the studios of Chicago Public Radio WBEZ. The show was open only to the station’s High Fidelity members… but everyone else will get a chance to see Disappears Friday night at Lincoln Hall. myspace.com/disappearsmusic
The album-release party for Outer Minds on Saturday at the Empty Bottle was more like a party for a whole scene of bands who are apparently pals with Outer Minds. With their electric 12-string guitar riffs, Farfisa organ, stomping beats and flower-children mix of male and female vocals, Outer Minds played melodic psychedelic rock that sounded like it was from another era. Then again, I long ago got used to the idea of previous musical eras co-existing in the present. I overheard someone in the crowd saying he felt like he’d traveled in a time machine — presumably to the 1960s, since that’s what it sounded like. Outer Minds’ self-titled debut LP is available from Southpaw Records.
The opening acts were a blockbuster billing of cool Chicago bands: Summer Girlfriends played fun Girl Group music of the sort you’d expect from their name. Radar Eyes were even fiercer than they were a couple of weeks ago at their own record-release party. And Mannequin Men played one hard-edged brand-new song amid a strong set of their best and catchiest tunes. Taken altogether, it was a great sampler of some of the exciting music happening in Chicago today.
The Museum of Contemporary Art Chicago has been hosting a cool series of monthly free musical performances in its cafe called Face the Strange, which was a perfect setting last week (March 27) for the ambitious, experimental music of Chicago duo Spires That in the Sunset Rise. The group began 11 years ago as an all-female quintet from Decatur, Illinois, but they’re now just two, athleen Baird and Taralie Peterson.
For their “Face the Strange” show, Spires played an eight-part suite inspired by some writings of Italo Calvino, with cello, flute, looping pedals and processed vocals that resembled those of Laurie Anderson. It was an impressive work overall, with the complexity and gravitas of contemporary classical music, although like many such compositions, it was hard to absorb it all in one listen and arrive at a full feeling for it. Let’s hope it surfaces on future Spire recordings.
Spires finished off their concert with a couple of shorter songs that are more typical of what the group does on its recordings — heavily atmospheric songs that combine rustic acoustic instruments with echo and effects. Spires That in the Sunset Rise has a fine new album, Ancient Patience Wills It Again, coming out April 17, and the whole thing is streaming now at the band’s website, stitsr.com.
One more concert is coming up in the current “Face the Strange” series: Plastic Crimewave Vision Celestial Guitarkestra plays at 6 p.m. April 24.
