Out

Show at Logan Square

The Chicago Marathon took place on Sunday, Oct. 10^th. None of us participated in such an absurdly physically taxing event this year (although someday I swear I will), but Ward and I did ride our bikes all the way from Uptown to Logan Square. Already a long ride, the over 80 degree weather that this Indian summer has been providing made it a sweaty one, too. Something seemed a bit off as we coasted through neighborhood pumpkin patches with the sun blaring down on us. The high for the day a year ago had been 48 degrees.

The reason for our trek? We had heard there was a cheap show (we actually heard it was free, but this was not the case), at Logan Square featuring Dan Deacon and headlined by a band called Lightning Bolt. Upon arriving, we sat under a tree to catch our breath. The weather was windy as well as hot, and each gust let loose a shower of richly colored fall leaves around us as we sat.

The main source of entertainment for us quickly became a game of “good lord, look what that hipster is wearing.” Logan square is an up and coming neighborhood. It’s hip, and getting hipper every day, apparently. I sort of hate to use the term “hipsters,” to describe the kids at this show, because I’m not even sure what that ever-broadening term even means anymore. But let’s just say that if hipster means individuals that grab random-ass clothing, without concern for matching or how well it fits, from the dumpsters of Salvation Army stores, then there were some “uber-hipsters” here. A couple of my favorites were the dude in the O.R. scrubs and what appeared to be a little boy’s tropical themed swimming trunks and the kid in audaciously high cut-offs with a belly shirt and rainbow suspenders. There was also a dude in an oversized, tan suit and pants combo that appeared to have been haphazardly spray-painted platinum. He was sweating a lot. He was holding up the kid in rainbow suspenders on his shoulders.

So after a bit of people watching, Dan Deacon, the king of off-color attire himself (although today he did not have on that weird skull cap), took the stage. Their bassist wore camouflage bum-gloves. Their guitarist wore a shirt that read “don’t tase me bro” in huge letters. Ironic clothing galore. The band was playing as the Dan Deacon ensemble, which meant an impressive lineup of three drummers, two synth players, a marimba, at times multiple guitars, and Deacon on effect-coated vocals. The show was alright, with my personal highlight being a build up of interlocking percussion and synth to accompany a beautiful fall sunset. The music was almost always so dense, though, that you couldn’t tell the difference from song to song.

After Deacon came Lightning Bolt. In casual conversation I had found out that this band was apparently awesome and pretty old, having been playing together “since like ‘96” a dude told me. I figured this would be awesome—a 90’s band with a cult following that I had never heard before that was going to really blow me away and make me wonder how the hell I had been missing this. This is not at all what happened. Lightning bolt was a noise/spaz/metal outfit whose music made no sense. After three songs, Ward, Erik and I had exchanged enough “what the hell is this?” looks. It was time to be off. Just as we were walking away, a girl came up and suddenly vomited right next to where we had been sitting. It was really time to be off.

Night in Wrigleyville

“Americans are forever searching for love in forms it never takes, in places it can never be. It must have something to do with the vanished frontier.”

-Kurt Vonnegut, astute observer of middle-American existence in his novel Cat’s Cradle

Whether or not you believe this phrase to be a defining piece of our national identity, one simple fact is undeniable: we very often look for romance in the wrong places.

Sometimes we look for it in places like Red Ivy, and that is a damn mistake. I had the misfortune of attending this place on a Saturday evening in early fall, and am convinced that the only difference between this establishment and the grimy, very shallow bars that I mostly tried to avoid in college is… well nothing actually. It’s exactly the same, only twice as expensive. Also, there is an astounding amount of free colognes, mints and gum in the men’s bathroom.

I would come kick it at Red Ivy if you like any of the following:

-Club music blasting so hard you can’t hold a conversation

-Guys and girls awkwardly humping each other for lack of the ability to do anything else to the music being played

- A mysterious lack of any ugly people

Boys and girls in America really are a sad sight together at this bar. I know that these places are way popular and that a large portion of the bar industry now revolves around places like this, but that can’t stop me from posting this little piece of public disapproval.

Deerhunter's Secret Show

Chicago’s Kennedy Expressway seemed a surprisingly fitting venue for Deerhunter’s aesthetic. They are not, after all, a shiny, no-frills pop band. Their soundscapes are often gorgeously layered, but often grungy and haunting as well. A sensation is often evoked from their music not unlike something that might emanate from, say, a shadowy corner underneath an urban overpass.

On late Saturday afternoon on the 25^th, the Kennedy overpass was not filled with any of the shadows, haze or rubble that you would usually picture laying in this lonely section of downtown. Instead, it’s concrete barriers housed a multitude of cigarette smoke, $900 cameras, loafers, Levi's, the occasional moustache and a whole lot of flashy smart-phones being stared at intermittently by the mix show-goers that Urban Outfitters and Deerhunter had jointly mustered.

The show was without a doubt a privilege. For one thing, it was free. For another - as lead vocalist Bradford Cox stated mid-show - this was the first time they were playing most of these songs live. And what took place was by no means a practice session for the band to try out their new material.

The show opened with brand new track “Desire Lanes,” guitarist Lockett Pundtt’s vocals growing more and more confident as the song progressed. The song’s long finale of interlocking guitar work pulsated all throughout the overpass and the Downtown area, slowly building until the concrete make-shift venue was full, too full. It was all going to collapse, but of course did not and the song finally faded out and the atmosphere settled once again.

Right off the bat, this band was on top of their game. Clearly ready to blow the rest of their fans away with Halcyon Digest, it felt a real honor to be seeing them now, just before that wave rose up.

The band moved from here into "Hazel St.", Cox’s angelic vocals now taking command and hovering up over the crowd where they would settle and remain for the rest of the show. After this a string of all new songs followed, and then “Never Stops,” which marked the first appearance Microcastle in the set-list. Lock’s spider-like guitar work slowly building up as Cox’s long-wave, echoing vocals interlocked and contrasted impressively.

The heavily blogged about new track Helicopter followed, tossing wave after wave of sweet, washed out guitar licks into the crowd. Between here and the downright gorgeous closer for Halcyon Digest, “He Would Have Laughed” came a series of ever building and collapsing soundscapes, which the band seems to have an amazing knack for creating in and out of the studio. At many points during “He Would Have Laughed,” and the scenes that preceded it, one could simply close their eyes and no longer be surrounded by the concrete of the traffic-ridden overpass, but instead be floating in an ocean far, far away. Moreover, there was an intense feeling of solidarity throughout the crowd, which I feel is a key aspect for any important rock show.

Being the sweethearts that they are, Deerhunter treated myself and all of the other broke show-goers present to an encore of “Famous Last Words,” “Saved by Old Times,” and of course “Nothing Ever Hapenned.” It seems that the latter in particular is becoming a staple for their shows, and it didn’t disappoint an ounce. I do, however, wish I had brought ear plugs.

Thank you Deerhunter, and thank you, ahem….Urban Outfitters(?!) as well for what I consider to be one of the coolest, most entrancing shows I have ever had the pleasure of attending.