In Memoriam: saki (2010-2016)

I first moved to Logan Square in late summer 2010. It was a brave new world for me - my first time living on the northside. Fresh out of college and student teaching, I didn't yet have the physical or financial stability for a vinyl collection but I was determined to explore the neighborhood. On my second day in my new neighborhood I went for an exploratory walk and, amidst a sea of of taquerias and by-the-slice places I ran into a seemingly out-of-place record store on Fullerton called saki. I immediately knew I'd found something.

That little shop became my first neighborhood place in Logan. By that I mean, it was something I could put in a sentence like "you should check out my neighborhood ______ place, it's great". I felt a kinship with saki. We both loved music, had similar taste and were barely hanging on at the edge of the neighborhood's music scene. It was an anchor in the landscape of my new life. Like my local bar or grocery store (The Double and Tony's, for the record), it became a part of my personal geography as a place that felt intensely like home.

It's also what helped drive me into record collecting. Although I still cringe at the fact that vinyl obsession is just another form of consumerist self-medication, it's MY medication and it helps get me do normal, dammit. As the mp3 blog world of the mid-to-late '00s gave way to the even mightier deluge of omnipresent "musical content" (although clearly this blog found out five years too late), I've become one of those assholes who has deep-seated convictions on the joys and benefits engaging regularly with music put out on physical objects with art on the cover and rich sound and all that crap. saki was my kiddie pool, helping me wade carefully into a new way of exploring music.

It's where I bought my copies of The Monitor, London Calling and Double Nickels On The Dime. Do you KNOW what owning critically-acclaimed, genre-challenging punk double albums means to bearded record nerds of a certain age? And if I needed the newest Bloodshot release or Kendrick record or just a place to find something totally unexpected, I had an oasis less than a 10 minute walk from my knee-bumpingly cramped one-bedroom walkup. It wasn't necessarily a beneficial proximity, especially after losing my first teaching job and often skated by on double digit bank balances for far longer than advisable. Still, at the time it felt like a good way to waste my youth and I stand by that.

The allure of the unexpected is what makes it especially appealing. Earlier this year I was browsing aimlessly through saki's Local Artist bin and I stumbled on an LP with a really sweet-looking cover and decided to purchase it for that reason alone. It turned out to be Bill Tucker's Punk Fills / Sad Bad Mittens compilation. As I've since moved, dealt with family medical issues and just generally tried to weather the unrelenting shitstorm that is 2016, I've often found myself seeking the sweaterlike comfort of his guitar and nasaly ruminations on life. It's the kind of record-I-never-knew-I-needed that I come in expecting to find and am rarely dissapointed.

I love the non-algorithmic serendipity of having a place to come and rub musical stones together and see if anything sparks. saki was particularly designed for this, lacing in weird noise records and the complete Sun Ra discography amongst the St. Vincent record I'd originally come in to buy. It was a place to enjoy art, familiar and unexpected. There was always local art and/or posters for sale hung with reverence on the walls and a small bookshelf where you could pick up anything from zines to 33 1/3 installments to John Darinelle's latest novel. 

Baby Money & Beer

They were also a surprisingly great place to see live music. Although I love a cramped record cave, saki's airy layout with a small stage and open area contrasted nicely with most records stores. Here in-stores didn't require trying to cram oneself awkwardly amongst aisles of records, craning and straining to see the artist. The store's giant plate glass windows were also a plus. They would absolutely drench the room in sunlight, giving whomever was onstage an air of having a natural spotlight and it made the pretentious can of beer you'd bought on the way taste that much sweeter.

The shows I most remember were mostly populated by scene faves like The Runnies or Baby Money, with the occasional local heavy hitter like JC Brooks & the Uptown Sound (which I might have mentioned before). Then every once in a while they'd even grab someone like Superchunk and you felt proud that they'd managed to drag indie royalty into your grubby neck of the woods. They also promoted the hell out of live music outside their walls with an ongoing deal where they'd give you a guestlist spot at upcoming live shows if you bought the band's record beforehand. For places like Lincoln Hall or Empty Bottle, this essentially amounted to getting a couple of tickets for below face and a free LP to boot. I never understood why that alone didn't have them mobbed every time a new show was announced but such is fate.

On Thursday, Adam Hirzel and Patrick Monaghan announced that, due to the closure of Carrot Top Distribution, the company driving the store, saki will shut its doors as of December 1st, adding yet another tribulation to the biblical trial that is 2016. Although the news hit me hard, I can't say that I was surprised. As often as not I would stop by on my way home from work and browse for half hour as the store's only customer. Being as far west as they were, they weren't exactly a hotbed for foot traffic. I was spoiled but for most people it was a schlep and, with records stores sprouting up like mushrooms on the northwest side, record buyers didn't lack for other options.

Still, I'll always have fond memories of Adam behind the register chatting with me as I checked out and inevitably talking me into having them order the latest Feelies re-issue or tweeting me when the new Angel Olsen was back in stock, lest I miss out again. I'm sure I was fish in a barrel. Meanwhile Patrick, despite being a Cubs fan, is a wonderfully old soul and one of the finest twitter follows in Chicago (and beyond), especially if you wanna get woke on the scourge of urban light pollution. These are the kind of people who made Logan Square feel like an actual community full of wonderful human beings, not just another "hot neighborhood".

So let me just close by saying a heartfelt thank you to these cool dudes and all the other great folks who helped make saki a thing for these last six-and-half years. You created something meaningful that will always hold a special place in my heart. And on my shelves.

Concert Review - Empty Bottle Winter Block Party, March 1, 2014

Courtesy of Matt Conzen's phone.

At this point, all we can do in Chicago is lean into the winter. I mean, it's made it clear that it's not going anywhere so all we can do is wear our #Chiberia hashtags like a badge of pride. Besides, harsh winters have always been a part of Chicago's DNA. Even as it's become "international city", Chicago has never been a gathering place for celebrities either entertainment (LA), literary/business (NYC) or political (DC) and it's easy to see why - for at least five months of the year, you to have some starch in your shirt and iron in your spine to enjoy life in the city by the lake ice cube.

So a block party in the snow seemed like the perfect way to close out (or at least begin to close out) this 3rd coldest winter in our city's recorded history. The wonderful people at the Empty Bottle were behind this endeavor, which could not have been more fitting. Their scruffy, eclectic but still-discerning approach to music was note-perfect (if you will) for this kind of patently ridiculous celebration. In fact, the perfect distillation of the event's spirit came earlier in the afternoon when an Empty Bottle employee asked everyone in the crowd to look up towards a second floor window where the owner was snapping photos of the crowd. Per their instructions we all looked up, smiled and gave the camera the traditional one-finger salute.

Artist Primer: Project Film

I could tell from the first listen that Project Film is the kind of band I could love. You see, I have a weakness for a certain kind of indie rock band that they play to with a vengeance. It’s a sound that I associate with the mid-‘00s, a sort of mid-fi, mid-tempo rock with inventive, guitars that tread that careful line between shimmery and spikey, maybe with some acoustic strumming and keys thrown in for good measure.

Project Film, is comprised of singer/songwriter/instrumentalist Sam McAllister with the assistance of Megan Frestedt (the two also run the band's label, Tandem Records) hit that sweet spot perfectly with their first album, 2010’s Chicago. I love the fact that McAllister apparently recorded the whole thing in his Chicago apartment, save for Frestedt’s vocals because there is a warmth, intimacy and slightly ramshackle quality to whole affair which that origin story would account for perfectly. It was good timing for me because this record worked its way into heavy rotation for me this January and February and it’s great hibernation rock. As a product of Minneapolis and Chicago, McAllister knows a thing or two about surviving a Midwestern winter and it’s no coincidence that a group of songs he holed up in his apartment to creates sound really good while holed up in one’s apartment.

Artist Primer: Sleepy Kitty

You might remember me writing about Sleepy Kitty last summer after being blown away by their mesmerizing but under-attended performance on a slab of sun baked concrete at the Electric Petting Zoo. I chatted with both drummer Evan Sult and singer/guitarist Paige Brubeck who were nice enough to slip me a copy of their album, Infinity City. At the time I made a mental note to write about it once I'd fully digested it. Well, it's eight months later and now I'm finally making good on that promise. It's my goal to use the month of March to buckle down and put digital ink to digital paper about some of the many great local bands I haven't yet found time to sing the praises of and I couldn't think of a better place to start.

Technically, Sleepy Kitty is really more of a St. Louis band, by way of Chicago by way of New York. And even more technically  they're a "graphic arts and music project,"   No matter, I'll take any connection, no matter how tenuous to lay claim to this duo on behalf of my city. They're the kind of band who you feel like could be way bigger if they cared half as much about self-promotion and "making it" as they do about the artists and communities that they're connected to. For example, upon starting this article I checked in with the group and, despite following them on Twitter and Facebook saw that they'd snuck a new album out this fall and played Chicago multiple times without my knowing! Saddened by the missed opportunities but excited for some new tunes, I quickly downloaded the songs and got to writing.

Concert Review - Pitchfork Music Festival (Saturday) [PopMatters]

The second day at Pitchfork 2012 was wet, steamy and lacking in heavy hitters. Fortunately, I brought my rapier-like wit to keep everything in perspective. Check out a sample below, then get your full fix at PopMatters.

I was kicking myself for lollygagging as I walked into Union Park Saturday afternoon because it meant that I had lost a good 15 minutes of the Cloud Nothings. When I arrived on-scene the Cleveland punks were carrying-on like demons had possessed their guitars. Unfortunately after seeing only two songs, rain once again began coming down in earnest. Although started as a drizzle, it quickly escalated to a soaking downpour. The band, bless their foolish hearts, decided to pick up the gauntlet thrown down by the gods of weather and worked their way into a blistering guitar jam that seemed to get heavier in equal proportion to the rain’s intensity. For a while, it was a thrilling act as those in the crowd thought “who will win, these guys, or the weather?” Sadly, it wasn’t those guys. The group refused to heed stage techs as they screamed “step away from your electronic instruments unless you want your flesh to be fried into a permanent part of the stage” or something in a similar vein. Eventually the sound cut out and the Could Nothings were forced to flee to safety, leaving spectators impressed but thoroughly soaked. Thus began day two.

Read the full article here.

Concert Review - Pitchfork Music Festival (Friday) [PopMatters]

The good people at PopMatters were nice enough to send me to the Pitchfork Music Festival and, in exchange, I wrote some words about it. Check out a sample below, then get your full fix at PopMatters.

Another year, another three days of sweating to odd time signatures and buzzy guitars in Union Park—that’s right, it’s time for the great indie gathering that is the Pitchfork Music Festival. Because a little needless competition makes everything better, this year PopMatters decided to break down the festival into geographic teams based on each band’s home city. Every set was judged on a “win, lose, draw” system based on a complex system that factored in timing, instrumentation, energy, delivery, personal grooming and how their music made me feel inside. Like any umpire’s ruling, the decisions may be rushed, based on bad information or just capricious but they are final, although feel free to argue and kick dirt if it makes you feel better.

On Friday morning it was announced that the entire state of Illinois was officially experiencing drought conditions. So one might assume that it was good news that a wall of clouds rolled into Chicago Friday afternoon to deposit some much-needed rain on the city. Of course, this being an outdoor music festival, it wasn’t good at all and by the time the gates opened the rain had departed but left the the fields muddy, created visible clouds of sticky moisture and left the grounds with a mildly fetid odor. No matter though, dryness, comfort, a festival goer cares not for these things and so it was with a light heart and damp shirt that I entered the fray for another year.

Full article here. 

Album Review: Kelly Hogan - I Like To Keep Myself In Pain [PopMatters]

Hey y'all, I know it's been longer than I'd like between posts and I know what y'all are thinking - "oh, uh sure, I guess if you say so." Anyway, my intention is not to derive you of the self-obsessed ramblings you've come to love, but rather to clean them up slightly and force them onto others!

Among other things (switching apartments, working longer hours, taking up Tuvan throat singing, etc.) I've also been sending some of my words to the good folks at PopMatters who have agreed to post them on their site, provided that I return their families unharmed.


One of my records of the year so far has been Chicagoan and lovely human being, Kelly Hogan's record, I Like to Keep Myself in Pain, which you can sample a bit of my review here:

Kelly Hogan is not the kind of singer who has many casual fans, only devotees. Nor has her music career followed anything like a straight line. Indie guitarist, radio DJ, backup singer, bartender—she’s done it all.  Along the way, she’s worked with musical heavy hitters such as Neko Case, Andrew Bird, Vic Chesnutt and John Wesley Harding, but rarely in a way that grabbed the spotlight for herself. She had the misfortune to release her first solo album, Because It Feels Good, just after 9/11, where it, along with her subsequent tour, was lost in the midst of a national crisis. So perhaps it’s fitting that she has titled her second album I Like to Keep Myself in Pain.

Now that you've had your sweet taste, I know you'll be hopelessly addicted so head over here to read the full review.

Like the idea of my writing elsewhere but want more? I expect to have several other reviews as well as coverage of the Pitchfork Music Festival published there in the coming months.

Hate the idea of me writing elsewhere but love the blog? I'll still be throwing up covers, Six Song Six Packs, random musings and anything else too unfocused or unmarketable for mass consumption here.

Like the review but wish it contained more swearing, personal asides and esoteric youtube links? I wouldn't be a plugged nickel against this little album cruising its way back onto my radar come December.

Which brings me to my final point - this album is like REALLY good. Buy it for yourself. Then buy it for your parents, buy it for your pastor and buy it for your pet boa constrictor, Reggie. And if they don't like it strongly consider getting new parents, a new system of beliefs to organize existence and a less outlandish pet with a less anthropomorphic name.

Bootleg: Wilco Live In Grant Park, July 4, 2001

Fourth of July is a holiday that sparks mixed emotions from many of the liberal arts-educated set that I run with. On the one hand there's something about the knee-jerk, Lee Greenwood-style that makes you wanna grab every red, white and blue bandanna'd person you see by the scruff of the neck and force them to read Howard Zinn. On the other hand, most people I know, no matter how discouraged they might be with "America" as it's force-fed us also recognize that they're inescapably American. Whether it's the "fuck you" independent spirit, the burning desire to be the best or the fact that we've found more new places to put cheese on a pizza than God itself, there's something impossible not to indentify with about our country. Plus, everyone loves getting a day off work to light explosives and play with fire while all day long.


It's these contradictory feelings, I believe, that always lead me to turn to Wilco at some point on every Fourth of July. They're quintessentially American but in the oddball, restless, lefty kinda way with one foot planted squarely in tradition and the other trying to kick dirt over that tradition and mess it up. Particularly I like to play, their fourth album and career masterpiece Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, a record that it was said "conjures a classic rock radio station on Fourth of July weekend". Not only does the music tackle feelings about place and conflicted loyalties ("Ashes Of American Flags" anyone?) but it the way it's bathed in layers of shimmery, staticy noise practically screams "American summer".

Concert Preview: Ultra Violet Petting Zoo

Tom Schraeder is, by all accounts, a busy dude. Besides being the driving force force behind the band Tom Schraeder and His Ego, he's made films,  and even hosted his own prom. But it's hard to find a better use of his time than helping to curate the Ultra Violet Petting Zoo for this, his second year in a row. Co-hosted last year by the wonderful people at Chicago Mixtape and this year by Do312.com, Ultra Violet Petting Zoo is party of the Boys and Girls Club Carnival which is the main fundraising event of the year for the Boys and Girls Club in Chicago. It all goes down this Sunday, July 1st at 2501 W. Irving Park Road (which is Irving, just west of Western for those who can't count) from 2 to 10pm.


Don't kid yourselves people, between the Republican House, the largest state budget deficit in the country and a mayor more likely to send tax dollars to development corporations than public schools or social programs, our city's youth are in dire, dire need for programs like those provided by the Boys and Girls Club. I don't exaggerate when I say that it's hard to find a better way to spend a dollar than by investing it in a child's development.


So what can you do? For five dollars, less than the cost of a (good) beer (plus tip, cheapskate) you can come out, experience twelve great local bands, food, drinks and, of course, rides to ensure that those substances don't stay in your stomach for long. Considering the estimated 400% return rate on investments in the Boys and Girls Clubs, that's like giving $20 to charity yet still having $15 left for beer! There's no Hold Steady or Dinosaur Jr. to distract you so come rock some Chicago tunes and help make your city a better place. Below, I've got a little bit of what you can expect to hear on Sunday.

A Musical Salute To Chicago Brewing

Tonight at 5:30 pm I was at Garfield Park Conservatory with a few hundred other committed geeks and aficionados quaffing locally-made beers to mark the kickoff of Chicago Craft Beer Week. It's a glorious, eleven day (that's right, a week can be eleven days when there's beer involved) celebration of Chicago brewers and Chicago bars that celebrate great beer. Not just in the city but throughout the suburbs there will tap takeovers, special brews, beach parties, mini-golf and almost any manner of beer-related merrymaking that you can think of - a hophead's dream come true.


Craft beer was a part of my life for years before I touched the stuff thanks to my father dragging my mother and I to brewpubs across the country throughout my childhood. By the time he left me at college with the instructions "When you drink, drink good beer," I was hooked. It's not coincidental that I was also getting pretty seriously into music around the same time as beer makes music sound better and listening to music is a perfect opportunity to drink great beer. With that in mind, I decided to make a minor contribution to #CCBW with an esoteric musical salute to the brewers that make Chicago such a great beer city.

Six Chicago Records To Soundtrack Your Spring

I'm somewhat ashamed to admit this but for a long time I never really did my homework when it came to the local Chicago music scene. When I first got into "cool" music in high school, I was living in the suburbs and focusing on the big musical guns - your Clashes, your Pixies, your OutKasts. As I went through college, I began to delve deeper but, living away from my hometown as I was, I didn't get much beyond Kanye, Wilco and a few other Chicago heavy-hitters. 


Since moving into the city after college I've worked my way way deeper and deeper into the city's pool of local artists like an old man slowly lowering himself into a steaming hot bath and it's been equally invigorating. Although I know I'm just scratching the surface, I've loved having the chance to start seeing groups multiple times around town, discover new artists and generally start to feel the sense of community that scenes build. It takes a certain kind of artist to choose to make it in Chicago. Working out of the coastal spotlight one has to have a bit of humility. The winters require fortitude and both the frenetic nature of local gigs and the difficulty to be noticed sure require a good work ethic. It's all these traits that help tie Chicago musicians of various stripes together. 

Album Review: bell hooks [mixtape] - BBU

Last Tuesday I had one of those rare and wonderful musical experiences that comes from hearing something great for the first time and feeling the excitement just course through your veins. I was basking in an obscenely sunny day off, about to head out for a walk when I ran a across a Reader review of a new mixtape from some Chicago rappers that seemed worth checking out. From the opening beat of the first song I was blown away at the audacious and righteous power of the music and I found myself reveling so deeply in the joy of discovery that I got a little giddy as each new song came on, anxious for each new song like a kid on Christmas Eve.

In terms of introductions, I think that the group themselves does it best on their Bandcamp - "Epic, Illekt, Jasson Perez, and DJ Esquire are the creative force behind BBU (short for Bin Laden Blowin! Up or Black, Brown, and Ugly, depending on the day), and they're committed to making socially conscious rap that doesn't sacrifice an ounce of fun." I didn't know it at the time, but I'd heard their local dance hit "Chi Don't Dance" before which certainly showcased their adeptness at creating unbearably catchy songs. What blew me away was how well they could marry that kind of off-the-wall danceability with lyrics containing more humor, pathos, anger and urgency than anything I'd heard in a while.

The "Happy 175th Birthday Chicago!" Mix

Wow, it sneaks up on you, doesn't it old girl? One minute you're a makeshift metropolis just making its way in the world, the next you're the fourth most powerful city in the world, blowing out the candles on your 175th birthday cake. Yup, Father Time can be a tricky bastard, you've got to stay on your toes.


I just want you to know that I didn't forget your birthday, I was just busy and I couldn't find uh... internet stamps. The point is, it's the thought that counts and I put a lot into your present. You're a complex city, not easy to pigeonhole and I tried to reflect that here. Sure, there's some outright love songs from Lupe, Frank and others, but there's more than that. I've got radio hits from Power 92 and deconstructionist jams for the XRT crowd. You're getting love from all sides North, West and, of course SOUTH. We've got orchestral folk pop and punk rock polka, country-rock and standards. Most of your major music movements from Chicago blues (and some wankers from London ripping it off), 80's indie & hip-hop. I'll admit that I'm still not strong on my house or industrial music but there's time for that in the next 175 years. I even threw in some instrumentals to say what words couldn't.


Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I think you're special. You're a world-class city without all the pretension that normally implies. Your cuisine is amazing because you don't call it "cuisine", your (metro area) beers are the best in the world and only getting better and you're also pretty good when it comes to art, architecture, music, and parking space retention. In short, the world is a better place because you're here. So Happy Birthday (Belated) 175th Birthday Chicago and remember, you're only as old as you act!

Album Review: Want More - JC Brooks & The Uptown Sound

Yesterday was one of those blustery March late-winter days whose oppressive grayness just makes you want to stay inside swathed in artificial heat and light. So it was with some reluctance that I dragged both myself and my girlfriend away from hearth and sunny, spring training baseball on TV to make a chilly walk down Fullerton. The only reason that I made that trek was that local record store Saki was hosting a free concert (which was recorded for download on Epitonic) by JC Brooks & The Uptown Sound whose new record I hadn't stopped listening to all weekend.

Concert Review - Radar Eyes (w/Outer Minds & Bare Mutants) at The Empty Bottle, February 7th 2012

Chicago felt cold and desolate last night. A barren, winter Monday with nobody on the streets - it reminded me of nothing so much as my first February evening in Poland, with a sense of gloomy Slavic dread hanging in the air. Then again, that might just have been the Polish deli's on Western rubbing off on me as hustled from my car into the welcoming womb of the Empty Bottle. 

I had high hopes for the evening which were immediately vindicated as I waltzed in the door without paying. The show was part of the Bottle's glorious free Mondays series and tonight we'd be treated to three of Chicago's fastest rising bands, all courtesy of local noise-pop label Hozac Records. It was the record release party for Radar Eyes' self-titled debut full-length and it seemed like the whole Chicago indie scene (or at least those not seeing Jeff Mangum) was out and ready to party.

New Music: Souljunky - Here and Now [EP]

One of the problems with being a music-lover in the internet age is that there is bottomless well of fantastic music that's always literally right at your fingertips. Souljunky is a new Chicago band that demonstrates that principle aptly (full disclosure, Your Narrator is a friend of one of the band members). The group is four guys who work regular jobs and have full lives but also decided to get together and record some absolutely unbeatable pop rock in their free time.


The result is their debut EP, Here and Now which is twenty minutes of sweet musical escapism that you can get right now, for free. What a time to be alive! The group is based around songwriters Chris Hess and John Mott who have played alongside midwestern icons such as Jay Bennett and the Bodeans. They're joined by John Vander Weit and Grant Niebergall holding down the rhythm section. It's a classic pop four piece with guitar, bass, drums and keyboards that gives this group of songs a bouncy, airy feel that would fit right in alongside the New Pornographers or the Heavenly States on a mixtape.