Concert Review & Pictures: Ex Hex & Priests at Schubas, March 18, 2014

All Photos Courtesy of Matt Conzen

Humans are bad time-keepers. For example, it seems like just last year that I was rocking out to Wild Flag at the Empty Bottle while it seems like forever since Matt Conzen starting shooting shows with me. And yet both of those events were, in fact, two-and-a-half years ago - go figure. Now Wild Flag is no more, Mary Timony is rolling through Chicago with her new project, Ex Hex and, fortunately, Matt Conzen is still snapping away with me.

Last Tuesday's show was an all-ages special, which despite all the griping that usually accompanies such a designation, I was excited for. Generally I enjoy high schoolers getting their first taste of the endorphin rush of live music and God knows in this case I felt that no teen in Chicago wouldn't benefit from seeing the ass-kicking, no-names-taking bill being presented this night.

Concert Review: Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin, Schubas, June 24, 2013

It had been a long time for me and Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin. I first fell in love with the band when they played my college in spring 2006. Their debut album had just been re-released by Polyvinyl and they'd had a song featured on The OC, back when that was still a thing (I'll admit it, I wouldn't mind more Rachel Bilson). That wave of buzz steered me towards Broom, a record whose warmth and intimacy have given it a longevity that other mid-00's flavor-of-the-month bands have lacked (OK, that first Clap Your Hands Say Yeah record holds up alright but when was the last time you played any Tapes N' Tapes?).

Although I've dutifully checked out songs from their following albums, I never quite gave them the honest chance they deserved. You know how it goes, you get busy, your eyes start wandering, life happens. Then I was given an opportunity to interview them a few weeks ago, which gave the excuse to ramble through their catalog with new purpose. I ended up falling in love all over again and when they offered me a spot on the guest list for a show and Schubas, I jumped at the chance.

Concert Review - Jennifer Hall at Metro, August 31st 2012

Used to be that Labor Day celebrated not only the end of summer and the hopes of Chicago's baseball fans but the end of festival season. 2012, however looks to be different. Not only has the outdoor music season firmly implanted itself into at least mid-September with North Coast, the Hideout Block Party/AV Club Fest and an outdoor incarnation of Riot Fest, among others, but this year, local musician/artist/gadabout, Tom Schraeder is putting on a month-long salute to local musicians, comedians and artists at Lilly's, called Chicago, I Love You. With all music swirling around the city, it was fitting with that the newly-thirtysomething Cabaret Metro decided to kick off the holiday weekend with a trio of local acts on Friday night, headlined by songwriter and chanteuse Jennifer Hall.

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. 

Concert Review: Ultra Violet Petting Zoo, July 1, 2012

"It's basically just a group of artists who are fed up with the music industry."

I was talking to Jackie Lancaster, someone I knew from high school who was now helping run the second annual Ultra Violet Petting Zoo. Organized by Tom Schraeder, she explaining to me that most of the bands performing at the event were friends who collaborated and performed often together before the festival. It was clearly a labor of love as this was a festival that gave the word "basic" a whole new meaning. Despite the fact that beautiful Horner Park was less than twenty feet behind the stage, the UVPZ was in a hastily fenced off area of the parking lot for a wire supply company which featured little shade, a devastating heat island effect and a steady supply of cars and trucks passing just beyond the gate. It was if to say "yeah, we're just here for the music and the people, deal with it."

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 Review: Billy Bragg at Old Town School Of Folk Music, June 22nd 2012

Billy Bragg came to town Friday night to play the first of his two sold-out shows at the Old Town School Of Folk Music and I was excited. It's not often that the old Brit makes his way out to Chicago and, my personal financial situation had been massaged, money saved in advance, to swing the $40 asking price for a ticket. I feel like I'm not alone in this - especially in America he's one of those cult artists you either connect very personally with or mostly ignore. It's a tough situation for an artist to live up to such projections but Bragg's reputation as a charming and skilled live performer had me heading in with high hopes.

Concert Review + Pictures: JC Brooks & The Uptown Sound at Millennium Park, June 21st 2012

I've always romanticized the idea of the local band. There's something about giving your heart to the local group that's so liberating. You never know what's going to happen. You could be like Liverpudlians in the Cavern Club watching the Beatles on their lunch hour or Floridians grooving on Petty before her made it bid. Alternately, you could be pledging allegiance to a group that will never really make it out of your town or state or region, a group whose star is destined only to shine for those who know them. You might well spend many nights of your future waxing on about that group that never quite found its national audience to fellow bar-goers who nod politely and then leave when there's a convenient pause in the rant.

As I took in my fourth JC Brooks & The Uptown Sound performance of the last year at Millennium Park tonight, I couldn't help but think how fortunate I was that THIS was one of those local bands that I get to champion, because I know it's not just me who thinks that they're the real deal.

Concert Review: Nada Surf at Metro, April 2nd 2012

I'd started to doubt Nada Surf. Mea culpa.

I had been hemming and hawing about going to this concert for a while, which surprised me. I fell in love with these guys the first time I saw them play one snowy March evening at the Metro in 2006. At the time they were bubbly over the fact that they'd sold the place out, something they'd make a habit of in the coming decade. Since then I'd seen them enough to collect autographs, shake hands and even have them dedicate a song to my then-girlfriend as an anniversary present the last time they played the Metro in 2008. Now, I found myself falling into the "it's good, but not great"-trap when thinking about their new album and wondering if I really needed to see the latter-day group touring off it.

This was foolish, I see that now.

Concert Review - Jeff Mangum at the Athenaeum Theatre, February 8th, 2012

"God is a place you will wait for the rest of your life."


Neutral Milk Hotel wasn't just a band, it was an experience, a shared secret, a way of processing the world, an alternate reality, all based on the beautiful, fractured, naive worldview and lyrics of one Jeff Mangum. His decision to disband the group and subsequent nervous breakdown in 1999 left many of his fans feeling like they were living the above quote from "Two-Headed Boy, Pt. 2". Since then, the band's work has taken on a mythical place in the indie cannon, bringing in millions of new fans to join in the waiting for the musical deity.

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.

Concert Review - Wilco at The Vic, December 15, 2011

Some days you listen to music because you like it. On other days, you listen to music because you need it. I didn't realize it at the time, but yesterday was one of the latter. It was a day like one that we've all had. You know, rough week, work problems, bad weather, etc. To top it off, my girlfriend was sick, so I had nobly suggested we sit in the balcony rather than try and hug the stage - a suggestion which landed me distressingly close to the rafters in the old theater.


We were at The Vic for something a long time in the making - Wilco's triumphant Chicago return. As part of their "amazing shrinking residency", they had already played the Civic Opera House on Monday and the Riviera on Tuesday and now they were settling into the relative cosy confines where they recorded their 2006 live album, Kicking Television. Not only that, but they were doing it the right way, inviting Chicago scene legends to open each night, which meant that tonight we'd get to see Jon Langford and his band Skull Orchard.

Concert Review - tUnE-yArDs at Lincoln Hall, November 9, 2011

If you've seen Merrill Garbus live then you already know what I'm talking about. The woman is a presence, a force to be reckoned with onstage who commands your attention and delivers a performance that is equal parts intimate charm and shock and awe. In a musical landscape saturated with critically-acclaimed touring acts and comeback tours to beat the band, she creates a unique live experience that feels miles away from and above anything else out there.


I knew all this coming into tonight's show, having already seen Garbus fronting tUnE-yArDs during a glorious, sun-dappled Friday afternoon set at this year's Pitchfork Music Festival. It was curiously placed on a side stage, which was packed to the gills by 4PM on a workday and everyone there knew from the first song that it would be a festival highlight. What remained to be seen for me, however, was how that experience would translate to a small club like Lincoln Hall.

Concert Review + Pictures - Wild Flag at The Empty Bottle, October 9, 2011

You know a band is special when you just saw them three months ago and you're already geeked to do it again. This is especially true when they've only officially released ten songs. But it was precisely this feeling that gripped me as I walked up Western Avenue to see Wild Flag this past Sunday night. 

I had work the next morning and the doors weren't even until 9:30 pm, which meant that by all rights I should have been at least mildly annoyed. However, I kept thinking back to July when I'd seen this band slay a street festival of thousands. Tonight they were playing The Empty Bottle, an incredible venue with the shaggy ambiance and capacity of an overgrown basement show. The thought of squeezing all that energy into such a small space was giddying.

Concert Review - Fucked Up/Wavves At Logan Square Auditorium, September 30, 2011

It was windy last night as I was walking to the Logan Square Auditorium. And I mean windy. As I strolled past the turn of the century two-stories north of Fullerton, I could hear the leaves constant rustling as background noise that reminded me of the recently-departed cicadas but sounded more like the wash of surf crashing far away. It was the first time I'd had the headspace to really notice the end of summer and beginning of the chilly onslaught that is Chicago from October through April.


After arriving and getting my ticket torn, I was given the most thorough pat-down I've recieved since forgetting to remove hair gel from my suitcase before going to O'Hare, which made me smile. Cleary the Empty Bottle and the show's other promoters were taking no chances with a hardcore crowd.

Concert Recap/Pictures - The Hideout Block Party

Another year, another Hideout Block Party come and gone. This year's iteration, in celebration of the venue's 15th anniversary, garnered more media attention than usual as people used to the opportunity to take stock of how a former dive bar became the physical and spiritual home for Chicago artists of all music stripes.

After attending the sold-out festival, I can tell you it felt like a coming-out party for the Hideout, with thousands packing an old parking lot to hear music curated by a bar that looks like your parents' basement and doesn't even hold 200. It was a resounding success, highlighted by Mavis Staple's triumphant sunset performance in front of a rapturous audience. But this was still the kind of festival where you could catch Jon Langford hanging around in the crowd during White Mystery's set or go say hi to the Eternals' Damon Lock or Alex White after they got off stage. 

Concert Preview - The Hideout Block Party

Of all Chicago's varied and wonderful concert venues, none can quite match the ramshackle charm of The Hideout. From its amazing artist in residence, to its impromptu Black Eyed Peas cover shows to its Wednesday night soup for the hungry, this is a venue that does nothing the usual way but always gives you a unique experience. When I consulted a neighborhood map to determine its exact location, I found it listed in an area called "industrial corridor" and I couldn't think of a more accurate desctpiton if I tried. The bar itself is a tiny thing, tucked away on an industrial strip of Wabansia just east of the river, located near a series of loading docks, a Home Depot and, of course, a garbage truck marshaling area for The Chicago Department of Streets and Sanitation.


It is in this parking lot, where the trash-haulers usually sit, that The Hideout hosts its (mostly) annual Block Party. My first visits to the Block Party have been for label celebrations, namely the legendary Chicago punk/noise providers Touch and Go in 2006 and alt-country (and beyond) Bloodshot Records in 2009. After a hiatus last September, Hideout is back running their own show this year and have settled on a lineup not only packed with the cream of local talent but, tellingly, filled with regulars who've played the bar more than their fair share over the years. The party is this Saturday and I've been looking forward to it for over month now, here's a quick look at what you can expect if you decide to end your outdoor concert season with a bang in a garbage truck lot this weekend.

Concert Review - Langhorne Slim at Lincoln Hall, August 24th 2011

All Music Guide describes Langhorne Slim as "a one man mixuture of The Cramps, Beck's early indie work... and the soundtrack to O Brother Where Art Thou" and I guess that description's as accurate as any. Slim anchors his songwriting in the well-worn, love songs n' rave ups territory to be sure. But he throws enough curveballs and heartfelt passion into his songs that I found myself hopping on the #74 bus on a Wednesday night to catch him at Schubas' larger sister-venue, Lincoln Hall.

Concert Review - Atmosphere at Metro, August 5, 2011

Sean Daley is an endlessly fascinating individual, at least if his rhyming is anything to go by. He spits under the name Slug and, along with his producer Ant, he's been putting out amazingly heartfelt, angry, bitter, tender and insightful records under the name Atmosphere for over a decade. His songs are self-absorbed forays that deal with aging, anger, drinking and failed relationships (family and romantic). He works as a classic unreliable narrator, mixing personal history with three dimensional character studies and second-hand narratives that are never anything less than honest and compelling.