Show review: Freelance Whales at Lincoln Hall, 10/4

By Gene Wagendorf III 

Judah Dadone, Chuck Criss and Doris Cellar

Over the last couple years I, and my fellow Windy City Rockers Andrew and Frank, have grown quite smitten with Freelance Whales. From their charming Lollapalooza debut in 2010 to their most recent visit to Chicago almost exactly a year ago, we've been following and digging the Queens-based chamber pop gang. Their inaugural release, Weathervanes, is the kind of first at-bat home run that might have stifled the development of a lesser band. When word got out that the group was working on a new album, the consensus reaction amongst fans seemed to be both excitement and trepidation. Would Freelance Whales again reach the bar they set so high? Would the new record be a facsimile of the fragile, organic compositions on Weathervanes, or a departure so harsh that the band's identity was lost? These questions, and then some, were answered Thursday night at Lincoln Hall.

Wobbling, echoed honks and a gleaming banjo line sailed across a landscape of deliberate thumps.  Choral ooh-ing backlit Judah Dadone's cheery lull; his inflection rendering the poetic lyrics more of an invitation than a statement. Jacob Hyman's cymbal tittering served as a countdown, one that propelled the vocal harmonies and toy piano tinkling into deep, quiet space. This was "Aeolus," the opening track on Freelance Whales' sophomore album, Diluvia. With that one song, Dadone and company quieted any concerns about their future being a retread of the past, or worse yet, an indication that the past was a fluke. Future is the operative word in that sentence, as the new songs played were a synthesis of the band's trademark earthy, acoustic ambling and a new interest in scale and electricity. The dynamic promise of "Follow Through" built from ambient noise into a shimmering, stomping wave that transformed weightlessness into sound and stretched to a size their previous songs had never dared. Clever as ever, the turning point came during what should have been a predictable, albeit satisfying, explosion of sound. Instead the percussion, the keys and the buzz dissolved, leaving only the singer's crystalline swoon and a subdued, shimmering collection of guitar chords. If you've ever seen one human being console another with a simple gesture- a touch to the arm or a quiet embrace in lieu of a lengthy speech- then you know exactly the sound of the climax of "Follow Through."

Show review: Xiu Xiu at Lincoln Hall, 5/17

By Gene Wagendorf III 

Little under an hour before the somber anniversary of Ian Curtis's death in 1980, Xiu Xiu was onstage at Lincoln Hall zipping through a bright and inspired cover of his last song, "Ceremony." Jamie Stewart's guitar glistened and scrunched over the song's pitter-patter percussion, lending it an appropriate brightness and fragility. While the muscle of Peter Hook's bass was missing, Stewart's more operatic approach to the vocals allowed Xiu Xiu's version to evoke the same sense of captivating desperation. That balance between frenetic emotion and moments of glammy, quirky bombast was firing on all cylinders throughout the entire set. "Beauty Towne," from the recently released album Always, moved forward with a deep, hip-swaying groove over which Angela Seo sprinkled synthetic ripples and electronic blurping. The disconnect between the emotions the instruments conjured and Stewart's trademark this-is-my-last-song delivery forged a kind of sunny gloom pop, or what I imagine MGMT would sound like if they were very, very sad.

Show review: Fiona Apple at Lincoln Hall, 3/18

By Andrew Hertzberg

photo from facebook

Fiona Apple played the third show of her mini tour at a sold out Lincoln Hall in Chicago last night (the first two were at SXSW in Austin on Wednesday and Thursday). She hasn’t toured in five years, and her last release was 2005’s Extraordinary Machine. The follow up to that was recently announced with a June release scheduled and only her second longest album title: The Idler Wheel is wiser than the Driver of the Screw, and Whipping Cords will serve you more than Ropes will ever do.

I can’t say what I expected going into the concert. It certainly wasn’t strobe lights. But that’s what we got to accompany the head-banging thrasher of "Fast As You Can." I knew Apple wasn’t the most complacent musician out there, but I didn’t know she was actually that much of an ass-kicking one. Her backing band (guitar, bass, drums, and keyboard) were all solid players who somehow managed to keep up with the dynamic style of Apple. Recorded, Apple’s songs sound like they’re helped a lot by studio tricks and the advantage of static recordings, but the live translation still retains her signature sound, with the help from synthesized strings, upright bass and the drummer’s ability to mix rock with jazz beat keeping (I think she was chewing gum too). The live versions of all the songs took on new life when performed, mostly in thanks to her personal energy. At times it looked like she was exorcizing demons out of her body, and considering her rough past, that’s entirely possible literally as it is figuratively.

Show review: Cass McCombs at Lincoln Hall, 1/29

By Andrew Hertzberg

(Photo Credit: Shannon Aliza)

Cass McCombs has a certain RIYL quality that I associate with the burgeoning mid-2000s Pitchfork bumped indie rock scene: The Decemberists, Okkervil River, Devotchka. More or less, generally innocuous yet intelligent music balancing the tightrope between the theatrical and grandiose. After Sunday night’s performance at Lincoln Hall, it's safe to say that McCombs is still riding that wave, but a few more associations came to light in the live show.

McCombs is a modern troubadour. He’s lived all over the country, including a stay in Chicago. His nomadic lifestyle has no doubt inspired the off-the-beaten-path tales of his lyrics. As any proper artist, he’s lived down and out himself, that first-hand experience relaying even more depth to his stories. The set kicked off with ”Love Thine Enemy,” the five-piece band lined up in front of a wall of twinkling light, obscuring the band members' faces. As Lincoln Hall masquerades as an intimate venue within a large space, every single sound the band made could be heard, which worked more for than against the band considering the attention to detail. Cass seemed to hope it was louder, but as the place was only two-thirds full anyway, full amplification wasn’t needed.

Show review: Fujiya & Miyagi, YAWN at Lincoln Hall, 1/25

By Andrew Hertzberg  & Gene Wagendorf III

YAWN

Anytime music borders on psychedelic, the immediate reaction of listeners/viewers tends to be to drop all sorts of acid comparisons/analogies. If The White Album is an acid trip and MGMT is an acid trip and Merriweather Post Pavilion is a fucking acid trip, fine, but then that doesn't really tell me anything. Any amateur hippie will tell you that mindset is key when making the psychedelic leap, that what you bring in to the trip will manifest in the experience. So OK, yeah, you can have a trip that smells like Roxy Music while your buddy one couch over is meandering through a Cronenberg-ian flea market with Stockard Channing and Arthur Rimbaud. That isn't YAWN. That also isn't to say that I want to strip the band of the psychedelic label that its videos do little to shrug off. Instead, I'd compare YAWN to my last mushroom trip, wherein I found myself both wanting to be swallowed by thick, warm blankets and being incapable of sitting still thanks to my body's insatiable bond with the music slipping out of my stereo.

I showed up to Lincoln Hall Wednesday night crunched in the mucusy grip of a lingering, bastard cold, hacking up orbs of phlegm in the alley just before showtime. Reeking of mentholated cough drops and suffering from a nauseating sinus headache, I was hesitant about how much live music I'd be able to enjoy. Then the woo-ing started. Wisps of auditory lollipop drifted over ripe drumming before settling/bursting into a series of dynamic whooshes and playful yodels. Already my nasal passages were clearing and the dull pound in my skull had faded. YAWN, a group of really normal looking guys, were making this blissfully offbeat music that apparently had mystical healing properties. Either that, or it just confused me into not feeling sick. The third (or twentieth?) song they played began with a series of squeaks and blurps, like an intimate conversation between two eunuch-robots in love. Interrupted by the unfolding of a twitchy bass line and lush, tropical percussion, the tune tightroped between the yammering of a chatty spaceship and an Aztec dance party. I was briefly jarred out of my trance by the brightness of a new track, whose synth swirls were sharp enough to be obnoxious, before the edge was dulled by chunks of rolling rhythm. Later, a similar rhythm propelled a clacking, clattering number that sounded like a steam engine pulling a tidal wave into The Old West. Think Neal Cassady driving the bus in Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test, but sopping wet and wearing a conductor's hat.

Show review: Clap Your Hands Say Yeah at Lincoln Hall, 11/29

By Gene Wagendorf III

CYHSY's Alec Ounsworth and Lee Sargent on "Misspent Youth"


Clap Your Hands Say Yeah took the stage at Lincoln Hall Tuesday night seemingly intent on confirming everything notion of them that I had going in. They're uplifting, occasionally boring, sometimes danceable and impossible to win an argument about.

Touring to promote their third and most recent release, Hysterical, the band Ponged between that new material and tracks from their first two albums. CYHSY have a pretty distinct timbre and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried that the set would wind up melting into a semi-repetitive blur of soothing sounds and whiny vocals. My worries were quelled early as the group rumbled through a broody version of "Satan Said Dance" that featured spelunking drums and a swollen bass line. That percussion then tumbled through "Gimme Some Salt," a skitterish, chunky jam slicked with low, grimy guitars. Normally bands that pull such scuzzy sounds from their instruments are fronted my mutton-chopped ghouls with bellowing voices, which made the nasal la-di-da of frontman Alec Ounsworth even more refreshing.

In a genius bit of setlisting, the aforementioned songs were followed by the twinkling narrative of "Misspent Youth." Probably the strongest of the new songs played, it gave me the same warm, pastel feeling I get from watching Lost in Translation. Ounsworth's lyrics, when decipherable, tend to lean toward interesting goofball stuff. This only makes his more poetic moments more convincing, as I found myself mesmerized while he sang there's a permanence to the memory of a bruise/ and I still take it on the chin/ for you. You're falling in love too, aren't you?

This Thursday: Warm, Safe & Sound benefit show at Lincoln Hall

By Frank Krolicki

Excellent Chicago bands and helping people. Both very, very good things on their own, but capable of producing extra mondo amounts of positive vibes when they come together under one roof. Such is sure to be the case this Thursday, December 1st at Lincoln Hall, when locally-based acts The Bright White, The Kickback, Blane Fonda, The Steepwater Band and Hawley Shoffner play a benefit concert called Warm, Safe and Sound to collect coats/sweaters for the city's homeless. You can get in for $5 if you bring a coat or sweater to donate ($10 without), and all clothing collected will be given to Cornerstone Community Outreach who will distribute them to those in need.

The show starts at 7 p.m. and tickets are available here. Below is the schedule for the evening. This one should be well worth checking out, for the music as well as the cause.

7-7:30 PM - Hawley Shoffner
7:45-8:15 - The Kickback (EP review here)
8:30-9:15 PM - The Bright White (EP review here)
9:30-10:15 PM - Blane Fonda
10:30 PM - The Steepwater Band

Show review: tUnE-yArDs, Pat Jordache at Lincoln Hall, 11/10

By Andrew Hertzberg

tUnE-yArDs' Merrill Garbus

TUnE-yArDs and Pat Jordache hit up Lincoln Hall for the second of two sold out shows Thursday night. I knew tUnE-yArDs was the real deal after seeing the commanding power of the Merrill Garbus led group at the Pitchfork Music Festival over the summer, but I had no idea how great last night was truly going to be. As is often the case with sold out shows, most of the crowd was there for the headliner. Considering Pat Jordache’s connection with Merrill Garbus, I thought more people would have been interested in seeing what he can do on his own. Alas that wasn’t the case, although I can’t say for sure that they missed anything entirely special. Like Garbus in tUnE-yArDs, Jordache makes very off-kilter music, centered around highly unconventional vocals and compositions, drawing from a myriad of influences. Backed by two drummers and a guitarist, Jordache primarily handles the bass, often opting for chords as opposed to a rhythmic backline. This was definitely their biggest advantage live.

Jordache’s debut from this year, Future Songs, can get a bit monotonous in its effect-heavy production, but the two drums and bass chords become so much more alive and pounding on stage, particularly in the patient revenge fantasy "Get It (I Know You’re Going To)." The weird thing about Jordache is despite the fact that he can’t sing, he can actually craft great melodies, as in standout track "Phantom Limb." I couldn’t help be reminded by his baritone of Bowie’s theatrical "The Bewlay Brothers" as it was often countered with a higher harmony, creating an eerie sound. Although despite the acid-washed jeans Jordache was sporting, he wasn’t entirely revivalist. Abstract drumming, competitive guitar and keyboard and a vague sense of the tropical combined with minimal pop breakdowns reminded me of newer Peter, Bjorn and John, Icy Demons and even TV on the Radio. The set closed with the upbeat "Salt on the Fields," changing time signatures half-way through, ending things on an upbeat, albeit still dreary note.

Show review: Cymbals Eat Guitars at Lincoln Hall, 10/21

By Andrew Hertzberg

It’s hard to pin down what it is I like about Cymbals Eat Guitars. Reference points for their music almost unanimously include the same '90s stalwarts that plenty of bands today try to imitate, but I think it’s CEG’s ability to take risks that sets them apart. For instance, the opening track and lead single to this year’s Lenses Alien is an eight-and-a-half-minute epic, not-quite-easing the listener into a winding album full of dissonance, odd chord progressions and introspective lyrics. And although the four-piece has a basic set up (guitar, bass, keys, drums), they achieve a great dynamicity between songs, and even within songs themselves.

That isn’t to say the songs don’t hold some amount of pop sensibility. It was easy to get a headbob going Friday night at Lincoln Hall for "Plainclothes," or at least as long as you didn't pay attention to the lyrics. Likewise, "Shore Points" was short and sweet but full of moodswings throughout. One of the biggest crowd pleasers was "Cold Spring" from their debut 2009 album Why There Are Mountains. Intertwining songs between the two albums in the live set really showed how although the band isn’t breaking entirely new ground, they are at least experimenting more and taking greater risks. Which is where "Rifle Eyesight (Proper Name)," that eight-minute track, comes into play. Although the band is from New York, I feel this track in particular shows the influence of the American Northwest on the guys. Singer/guitarist Joseph D’Agostino is a pretty dead on Jeremy Enigk, sings esoteric lyrics reminiscent of Elliott Smith, with the backing music blurring the lines between Sunny Day Real Estate, Modest Mouse and Built to Spill. It was solid live, but I really wish it was used as a kick-in-the-ass opener or as a powerful closer. Oh well. They ended up closing with "Gary Condit" before coming back out to play "Indiana" from their first album, its upbeat drums and waltzy bassline almost out of place with the rest of the set.

(I feel it should be mentioned: I've never been asked by a bouncer for my sign before while checking IDs. I hope for more of this and cuter bouncers).

More photos after the jump

Show review: Jolie Holland at Lincoln Hall, 7/12

By Gene Wagendorf III

Jolie Holland

My take on Jolie Holland's show Tuesday night at Lincoln Hall could easily be titled "How I Fell in Love Ten Times in One Night." The Houston native's set drew heavily from her recently released record Pint of Blood, but the material carried an extra bounce and fuller sound, almost rendering her record obsolete. I say that, mind you, as a huge fan of the album in question. The ambling tune of "Honey Girl" found a lush focus onstage and practically stole the night no more than three songs in. Arrangements were key to the evening's success; Holland was joined onstage by backup vocalist and violin player Carey Lamprecht, guitarist Jeff Munger and drummer Ford Tennis. During "Honey Girl" Holland's voice, which is more of a lead instrument than a medium for lyrics, wove seductively between Lamprecht's melodies to create warm, ripened musical harmonies. "All Those Girls," the lead track on Pint, was slightly stripped down and well-served by Munger's guitar work. Rather than playing the traditional lead parts, he pulled and bent at the notes underneath, deterring the audience from getting complacent during a set of mostly relaxed tunes.

Holland's demeanor fit the tone of the show perfectly; slightly self-deprecating and casually funny. She tuned up frequently during the set, using the lulls as an opportunity to pay her respects to Chicago artists Grey Gersten and Mavis Staples. During one such moment she told an amusing anecdote about meeting Lou Reed and having him express his pleasure with her dedication to being in tune. While Reed has a reputation for being a bit of a snarling prick (all due respect), Holland comes across as nothing but down to earth. She was quick to point out that a therapist friend of hers once suggested that if she ever was taking herself too seriously that she ought to listen to a Wesley Willis record.

Show review: Cibo Matto at Lincoln Hall, 7/14

By Andrew Hertzberg

I wasn’t too familiar with Cibo Matto before attending this show. But I had it on good authority that this was a band I needed to see live. The Japanese expat duo is touring for the first time in 10 years and new material is expected to be released early next year. 

The set started off with the two ladies of the band at the front of the stage. Miho Hatori took the lead vocals while Yuka Honda controlled the keys and pre-recorded tracks of drums, sax, guitar and more. The crowd was thrilled to welcome Cibo Matto back as they opened up with "Beef Jerky," a track that already features the band's range. The verses spotlighted Hatori’s seductive vocals which quickly transitioned to a confrontational chorus of “Who cares? I don't care! A horse's ass is better than yours.” The funk trip-hop continued with "Le Pain Perdu," a bossa nova-tinged track. The group epitomizes '90s NYC club sounds, ranging between anything that really is driven by a groove; it’s impossible not to give at least a head bob and finger tap while you listen to them.

After Hatori expressed her love for Chicago music (specifically R Kelly and Frankie Knuckles) they played "Sugar Water," which was accompanied by a visual palindrome music video directed by Michel Gondry. Soon after, the duo was joined by a drummer and bassist, and the Beastie Boysesque back and forth between Hatori and Honda of "BBQ" brought the energy up quite a bit. By this point, you’re probably sensing a pattern in the song titles. For those not in the know, Cibo Matto means "crazy food" in Italian and the group is committed to providing cibo matto for the ear buds. I apologize to any wayward Internet stragglers looking to find more info on the Chicago restaurant of the same name. The band themselves have not dined there yet as it’s a bit pricey, but they’ve heard good things. Anyway.

Show preview: Audiences, the Leadership at Lincoln Hall, 7/9

By Andrew Hertzberg

(Poster by: Jillian Rahn)

So obviously Lincoln Hall is one of the greatest venues in the city. What makes it better? When they team up with Betta Promotions to host some great local bands. Here's what they got brewing on Saturday:

Opening up the evening is Antony Ablan and the Tramps with their vaguely gypsy but constantly unpredictable jams. I mean, here’s a link to the tunes, but according to Anthony: “A song to me is living, and it needs to be free to change and grow, go wherever it pleases on any given night. You nail it down and it dies a little, maybe completely.” So don’t expect just the recording, hell, don’t expect anything. Jellybones pop up next, with a more psychedelic, Secret Colours type flair: dissonant guitar and hihats hit as loud as possible. Likewise, there’s a tinge of ELO pop sensibilities, without the overindulgence. 

Up third is a band who continue to prove why we can’t ignore our downstate brothers in Urbana completely. The home of Polyvinyl continues to create other great indie-pop bands. The Leadership wouldn’t be out of place on a bill with Santah: poignant lyrics, catchy hooks and a shining Replacements influence all diverge into one golden band. Headlining this shindig? Audiences, who wear their 70s inspirations on their sleeves, with the perspective of '90s indie rock. Expect some cathartic upbeats and even more emotive, harmonic vocal breakdowns. Get a taste of a set from Lincoln Hall earlier this year on bandcamp.

Conclusion: you’ll be moving the whole night. This show starts at 10 PM, is for any human being over 18 years and only for the measly price of seven bones. Bills like this are hard to find; get on it and catch all these great bands at once.  

Show review: Tame Impala at Lincoln Hall, 5/3

Posted by Conor O’Hagan

They say that imitation is the highest form of flattery. I disagree. Look at Wolfmother. Instead, let’s try reinvention. And Tame Impala.

Tame Impala are a psychedelic hypno-groove rock band from Australia. They also claim to be a “movement in Orion's nebula and the slime from a snail journeying across a footpath.” That I can not vouch for, but the psychedelic rock I absolutely can. I caught the band performing their old-school revival at Lincoln Hall last Tuesday.

Building from the solo recordings of Kevin Parker (before he found his bandmates to back him up), Tame Impala’s debut album Innerspeak seems to be exactly that – the imaginative wanderings and close, personal thoughts of the frontman. His vocals are impressively controlled, swimming in a Lennon-esque stream and always controlled and hitting the mark. And while the musicianship holds a hefty '70s influence, the performance remained organic and relevant in a modern soundscape.

Show review: The Island of Misfit Toys at Lincoln Hall, 4/23

Posted by Conor O'Hagan

The Island of Misfit Toys have come a long way in recent months. As little as six weeks ago the eight-piece graced the Schubas stage; the earnest appreciation of the opportunity declared by the members. Now, they have one-upped themselves by playing a Saturday night headlining show in Lincoln Hall on April 23rd.

If you were to see the show, you would not be surprised at this sharp incline of success. The full team of eight young members were dynamic and their adolescent anthems were enhanced by their unerring swagger and musical ability. That is without mentioning the constant exchanging of instruments. Guitar, bass, drums. Check. Keyboard, xylophone, saxophone. Check. Flute. Melodica. Accordion. Yes. Washboard? Yes, even a washboard.

Show review: Low, Gaberdine at Lincoln Hall, 4/21

Posted by Andrew Hertzberg

Alan Sparhawk and Mimi Parker of Low

Oh, the joy of another windy, rainy, is-it-still-really-this-cold April night in Chicago. But given the ambiance, I can’t think of two better bands to have checked out at Lincoln Hall last night than Low and Gaberdine.

Chicago’s own Gaberdine started off with their lyrically strong brand of indie-folk. Lead singer Mark Federighi showed off his pipes, affecting a falsetto akin to Justin Vernon, while songs like "1918" appropriated a historical setting a la Colin Meloy. Aside from drums, bass and keys, the backing band consisted of a trumpet and cello, adding a warmer feeling to the often darker lyrical tones. Glockenspiel, harmonica and even a toy piano solo took their place as well. The band released a full length When We Land earlier this year, available on bandcamp (with "Run, Rabbit," one of my favorites from the set, available as a free download). 

Low’s signature minimalist sound was apparent before they even took the stage, with a simple setup including a guitar, bass and keys; the drums consisted of not more than a snare, a floor tom and two cymbals, one adorned with screws to further accentuate the decay. Accordingly, thus did things minimally begin. A spare recorded drumbeat and handclaps opened up "Breaker," the lead single off 2007’s Drums and Guns. Despite the sparse sound of the band, lead singer and guitarist Alan Sparhawk showed a magnificent amount of passion and energy, a strong force within a subdued craft. Behind the nearly skeletal drumkit was Mimi Parker adding the second half of the vocals.

Show review: Tobacco, Beans, Shapers at Lincoln Hall, 4/15

Posted by Andrew Hertzberg

Tobacco

So how long have those pat downs been going on at Lincoln Hall? Really getting tight around there. But that still wasn’t the weirdest part of the night: that honor goes to Tobacco. But let’s start at the beginning.

Locals Shapers kicked things off with their usual brand of musical voodoo. I couldn’t help but think that the projected negatives of human bodies behind them were a perfect metaphor for their music: negative versions of conventional rock songs. From free jazz to post rock, chaotic to melancholic, they traverse a dynamic musical landscape. Check out their Daytrotter session from last week to get a taste if you haven’t already.

New York rapper and Anti-Pop Consortium member Beans was up next. In true minimalist style, he hit play on his laptop and solo-rapped-no-posse for the next 40 minutes. Lacking the grandiosity of Kanye or the sideshow absurdity of OFWGKTA, the performance wasn’t the most exciting. But guy raps pretty damn good for nearing 40, his voice at points taking on the scratches of a record. A more enthused audience member than I graced the stage with her presence for a bit, while security said "not a chance" to her friend. Another bit of confusing over-security at Lincoln Hall. So that was Beans. And then…Tobacco: 

Show review: Hemmingbirds at Lincoln Hall, 3/16

Posted by Conor O'Hagan

Hemmingbirds perform at a past show (facebook.com/hemmingbirds)

A host of local acts played Lincoln Hall last Wednesday in a show presented by Betta Promotions, including local indie rock band Hemmingbirds.

Hemmingbirds began as a side project for writer-guitarist-singer Yoo Soo Kim, but led to the release of their debut and self-produced album, Death Wave, last May. The album was described here on WCR recently as “sometimes uplifting, sometimes darkly desperate and most often a powerful mixture of both.”

The show began as a solid indie rock set with surprisingly strong vocals, which impressed on me the extent of Kim’s ability as a songwriter and performer. Supported by a host of talented characters, the songs transitioned from well-rounded originals to a cover of The Beach Boys’ "Wouldn’t It Be Nice," with four-part harmonies to boot.

Show review: Maps & Atlases at Lincoln Hall, 3/11

Posted by Conor O'Hagan

"Accessible" is a term that is sometimes shunned in the musical community. It has connotations of selling out, of dumbing down. And at times these connotations are well-deserved.
And at times they are not.

Maps & Atlases began as an impressive math-rock outfit, displaying technical capabilities that match up to their influences, such as Don Caballero and Hella. Then the band took a different route. A more accessible route. This more pop-oriented direction was perfectly displayed at their Lincoln Hall show on March 11th.

Show photos: Baths, Braids at Subterranean, 2/26

California's Baths and Canada's Braids were in town Saturday night to play SubT (along with Chicago's own Houses), and WCR contributing photographer Mary-Claire was there to get some shots of both sets. Take a look below.

Braids:

Show review: Akron/Family at Lincoln Hall, 2/24

By Conor O'Hagan

Akron/Family (photo: deadoceans.com)

Akron/Family are extremely difficult to label. And maybe that’s the point.

Last Thursday the band performed at Lincoln Hall, promoting their latest album Akron/Family II: The Cosmic Birth and Journey of Shinju TNT. I have no idea what that title means. By means of explanation, in a note sent to their record company, Akron/ Family were inspired by a note left for them which said: “Flourish. Flourish. Flourish. Fuck Shit Up.” The band took this to heart. That’s good enough for me.

The trio played six new tracks, mashing their sincere sing-along hippy-revival numbers with wild experiments in noise pollution. At times battling in Dan Auerbach territory, at times sporting a wide variety of miscellaneous instruments, and never seen without some of the best beards rock and roll has to offer, AK are cool customers and had the crowd dancing and participating throughout.