“This shit is crazy!” a Riviera Theatre security guard yelled to me, wide-eyed, as I was leaving the photo pit. I laughed and nodded.
“This is my third time seeing them and…this shit is CRAZY!” he emphasized. Yes, it is. Large balloons bounced around the sold-out venue while cannons blasted so much confetti that I’m still finding pieces of it in my camera bag. There was glitter, rainbows, inflatables (“Fuck Yeah Chicago”), streamers, and Wayne Coyne riding a unicorn through the crowd. And this was only three songs in. God, I love it when The Flaming Lips are in town.
Aside from the antics, the setlist was a pretty epic one. They covered David Bowie (“Space Oddity”) and played a chunk of songs from their suberb 1999 release, Soft Bulletin. The Lips are touring extensively right now in support of their latest album, Oczy Mlody, so seriously, don’t be a moron. Go see them. They’re unlike any other live band.
It was a sold-out ’80s dance party at Thalia Hall this past Saturday as The Psychedelic Furs returned to Chicago with support from Robyn Hitchcock.
The crowd was transported back in time, first through Robyn Hitchcock’s surrealist folk and witty banter, followed by the nostalgic post-punk and showmanship of the Furs.
Both acts are on the road through July, Robyn Hitchcock in support of his new self-titled Yep Roc Records release which arrives in stores April 21—on vinyl.
Rufus Wainwright, accompanied by his sister, Lucy Wainwright Roche, played the first of two sold-out performances at City Winery Chicago this past Thursday.
Lucy had a lovely opening set. In between beautiful folk songs, she was personable and funny, answering audience members’ questions and telling anecdotes. When asked about her biggest musical influences, she credited her family—a most definitely talented musical family. “It’s hard to get around that,” she joked. “They kind of pummel it into you.”
Rufus’ voice is arresting. He unassumingly took the stage and with the first note out of his mouth, the crowd hushed and was instantly transfixed. His voice would stop anyone in their tracks. It’s stunning. The crowd was putty in his skillful hands as he took turns playing the piano and guitar, singing his way through his impressive and diverse discography. In the dimmed light I could see a room full of white teeth, all smiling.
Run the Jewels is the greatest rap duo in the game and you should go see them live immediately. Period. Killer Mike and El-P are the real deal.
If for some reason you cannot see them live, I highly recommend downloading their latest release, Run the Jewels 3 free over at their website. And while you’re at it, check out Run the Jewels and Run the Jewels 2 as well.
If you already know Run the Jewels, first of all—congratulations. Second, check out this set list from the other night at the Aragon Ballroom.
D.C.’s Priests played Beat Kitchen last week as part of their North American tour in support of their debut album, Nothing Feels Natural.
I stumbled across the album not long after its release date (January 27th) and have been listening to pretty much nonstop since. The process of completing the album and getting it out was a long and laborious one for the band, but I’d say it was worth the blood, sweat, and tears. And given the current political climate, it feels as if there was no better time for Nothing Feels Natural to drop.
They are just as energetic and commanding live as I suspected. My only critique is that I wish the show had lasted longer.
Patti Smith celebrated her 70th birthday by bestowing a packed house at the Riviera Theatre the gift of her music and spoken word.
Along with her band, she began the evening by playing her iconic 1975 album Horses in full. In between songs she joked (“I’m the new president of the United States…just for fucking tonight!”), told stories (“I was nearly born in a taxi cab on Lake Shore Drive. The Great Snowstorm of 1946”), and inspired (“Don’t give up! Rise! Strengthen! Learn! Unite!”).
The Godmother of Punk (although she’s reluctant to embrace the title) put on a performance that can only be described as transcendent. Every single person in the sold-out Riv knew they were witnessing something special. It was church, a rally, a celebration and a show rolled all into one. “The dream is not fucking over! There is room in the world for love and peace,” she declared during her encore (a cover of The Who’s “My Generation”).
The calls to action peppered her performance and left me feeling—in a word—empowered. Her message was a welcome reminder that there is hope, love and beauty in this world. I wish every concert was a Patti Smith concert.
I’ve really come to look forward to the annual WXRT Big Holiday Concert. It’s always a great lineup, a great concert, a great venue, and a great excuse to run into Terri Hemmert and tell her you love her.
This year’s was no different, as Nathaniel Rateliff and the Night Sweats headlined with special guest—local legend and natural treasure Mavis Staples. As usual, Mavis, a recent Kennedy Honors recipient, exuded such joy that the grinch would’ve been clapping and singing along with her. It was a stripped down set with the spectacular Rick Holmstrom on guitar as her lone accompanist.
The Night Sweats were the next to hit the stage and they dove into their bluesy soul right away keeping the energy high. The audience was treated to a Mavis encore when she joined Nathaniel and company on stage to sing a beautiful version of “The Weight.” Another notable cover was Leonard Cohen’s “Chelsea Hotel No. 2.” Rateliff’s solo acoustic version was a lovely tribute to yet another icon we’ve lost in 2016. The crowd stood and danced for the majority of the evening, shimmying and singing along to Ratecliff’s originals. It was a perfect ending to a year filled with incredible shows.
I have to confess that I went to this show to see one band only—The Lemon Twigs. Simply put, I dig them.
I dig their sound, their look, their youth, their theatricality, their confidence. I dig that they’re brothers and both multi-instrumentalists. And now, I can say with certainty that I also dig them live. This is not a band to sleep on. From the second I was introduced to them earlier this year, I’ve been intrigued—excited even. And after their performance at Lincoln Hall last Friday, I’m now officially mesmerized. If you like David Bowie, The Beach Boys, The Beatles, and Queen then you’re sure-as-shit gonna like this band.
Of course, the bonus of attending a show for one band is that you get to see other bands as well, and in this case, other bands who deserve some attention. Illinois native Joe Bordenaro and the Late Bloomers opened the evening with a high energy, garage rock set that perfectly set the tone for the night. Headliners Sunflower Bean brought their indie rock (heavy on the rock) to the stage. I immediately heard some nostalgia in their sound, like I was at a loft party in Chelsea in the ’70s. Most impressive was their ability to evoke such nostalgia given that the trio isn’t even of legal drinking age.
I highly encourage you to check out these young, talented bands as there are still plenty of tour dates ahead.
The ethereal Sigur Rós brought their extraordinary and unique music to the historic Chicago Theatre last Friday, marking it as one of the most memorable Fridays of the year.
Their music is other-worldly, blanketed in mystique, and I can confirm that their performances are just as artful as their songs. The lighting is dramatic, moody, and beautiful—the stage clouded in fog as Jónsi’s perfect falsetto soared, his right arm furiously moving his signature cello bow across his guitar strings, the drum beats synced to the lights mimicking lightning.
It’s was a stunning sight to behold, let alone hear. Throughout their two sets (both about an hour each) they played a healthy mix of their catalogue but relied heavily on songs from my personal favorite Sigur Rós album, ( ). Their show, like their albums, seemed to build and build climaxing into the most epic moments. There’s not another band like Sigur Rós.
2:42pm: As I’m running to catch the Juliette Lewis and the Licks, I hear Dee Snider covering Nine Inch Nails’ “Head Like a Hole” in the distance. I arrive Riot Fest’s Rock Stage and turn my attention to Juliette Lewis, who is absolutely commanding the stage. She twirls, jumps, dives, screeches.
3:00pm: The party has officially started. Andrew W.K. has arrived, muscles bulging out of his signature white t-shirt and white jeans. He stuffs his microphone into his pants and slams down on his keyboard, jazz notes ringing out. His fans are screaming so hard the noise is almost deafening. Party on.
3:08pm: Juliette Lewis can sing. I wander back over to the Rock Stage to catch her covering—and nailing—Led Zeppelin’s “Whole Lotta Love.” Before her final song she pauses, “I feel like music is a spiritual thing and I want to thank you for being here.” She ends her set with Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Proud Mary”—her version sounding like Tina turner on steroids.