This is primarily for the non-Chicagoans among you. On August 3rd, we had quite a nasty storm here, one comparable to any I’ve seen in a bad horror movie. I just read today that northern Illinois had 90,000 lightning strikes in a four-hour period that night, as much as we usually receive in six-months. There were three tornadoes, none in Chicago proper but nearby. The one in Bolingbrook was a little too nearby, as far as I’m concerned. done
Don’t Know Why There’s No Sun Up In The Sky…
Wraygun Rumbles at Bernice’s
On Saturday we went to a chock-full-of-character Bridgeport bar named Bernice’s Tavern to hear some music by Wraygun, a Link Wray cover band that, on different occasions, turns into a Cramps cover band. Link Wray, of course, was one of the pioneers of the power chord in the late 50s and early 60s, especially in his big hit “Rumble.” “Rumble”, even though it’s an instrumental, was actually banned from some radio stations at the time because it might subvert the youth of America.
Larry (bass), Jack (drums), and a guitarist whose name I didn’t catch (although I do remember his fine Fender tube reverb unit), brought a smile to everyone’s face with a mix of Link Wray and vintage surf tunes. It’s always a good night when I hear “Pipeline.” In the second set, they added a guest saxophonist and guitarist, both of whom I enjoyed. Larry also sang a couple of songs.
The sound was excellent — just the actual sound of the amps and drums and a small vocal PA. To me, rock is meant to be heard in small clubs where you can hear the amps and drums themselves, not some muffled, over-amplified mix where the kick drum seems to be the lead instrument. Are you reading this, Metro?
The crowd at Bernice’s, which is quite eclectic and ranges in age from 20-somethings to people seemingly born in the 20s, had a great happy vibe. People were just plain having fun. It’s contagious. We met some friends there too, which added a lot. Mike, Bernice’s son, worked the crowd like a veritable ringmaster of libations.
Great job, guys! At least as far as I can remember….
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Across the Sea of Twee
On Tuesday, we went to the Co-Prosperity Sphere to see a lineup of performers from K Records, including the somewhat-known Calvin Johnson. The Sphere (not really) is located around 32nd and Morgan in Bridgeport. It’s the home to a sort of artistic collective called Lumpen, which is pretty neat overall. Whether they are actually good artists or not, we need more artists around.
The space was a vast empty floor with a lovely embossed tin ceiling, large enough for any kind of performance or exhibit. Although the weather was bad, a decent crowd gradually wandered in. Quite a few of them probably lived upstairs. They were, by and large, pleasant twenty-something tweesters who were taking on The Man by smoking cigarettes in defiance of the new law. Mary Ann thought the crowd seemed very 1992. Refreshments consisted solely of Pabst in cans for $2 and bottled water for $1. Admission was a more-than-reasonable $6.
The show, scheduled on the web site to begin at 8:00, didn’t start until about 10. This gave us time to chat with the representative of CHIRP, a project whose aim is liberalization of the laws concerning low-power radio stations. They’re hurting from the loss of Loyola’s station and want to make it easier to establish very localized indie radio. Sounds good to me. Then, inexplicably, the subject changed to vegan marshmallows. Here I thought that Jell-O and marshmallow companies had long ago changed over to some kind of non-disgusting gelatin substitute in their products. Nope, they still use gelatin from pig and horse hides, bones, and…you get the idea. Even in marshmallows. So, the CHIRP rep had ordered some truly vegan marshmallows over the Web. This is going to put somewhat of a damper on my hot chocolate.
After about an hour-long sound check/rehearsal by a band we ultimately missed, the show began with a crazy street person, sort of the Lumpen mascot, singing about Jesus, Barack Obama, and whatever else short-circuited his neurons at the moment. This was amusing for a while. I repeat, A WHILE. I have to give Lumpen credit for constancy, though. They brought him back to sing THREE different times while we were there. Imagine Wesley Willis crossed with Luciano Pavarotti, a cappella. If you can’t, check out the video. Also, he kept referring to Calvin Johnson as KEVIN Johnson. Five times, at least.
Second up was some guy who looked like Screech from Saved By The Bell would look if he let his hair grow out for about ten years. Sorry you all missed his immortal version of Monkberry Moon Delight, a bad Paul McCartney song. He was doing a lot of that Minnie Riperton three-octave stuff. Screech, indeed.
Next up, after some more opera, came the headliner, Calvin Johnson, formerly of the Beat Happening and other pioneering indie bands. This evening he played solo acoustic. Calvin is an acquired taste, but I’ve more or less acquired him. He has a distinctive baritone voice that occasionally strays onto a known pitch. He writes wry, earnest songs about romance and other phenomena I don’t understand. Occasionally, he will sing sans guitar and do odd hand gestures and spastic, lurchy dances. He even tells amusing anecdotes. I think you really have to see him live to appreciate him. He’s a real American original, and his genuine feeling and sympathy for the human condition, albeit in a sort of autistic way, resonate. It would be easy to label him as just a guy who can’t really sing or play the guitar. The fact is, he’s all that and a whole lot more.
In a side note, what’s the deal now with everybody talking through concerts? It seems that people show up with no interest in the music, but want to say they were there. Or maybe concerts are where the Least Generation does its in-person texting (what old people call conversation). Either way, it’s rude. Calvin Johnson does not want to hear about your boyfriend. Geez, even those two people grooming each other like monkeys were at least quiet!
All in all, it was a very worthwhile experience. You go, Lumpen! Calvin Johnson is a quiet champion of sincerity in music, whether I agree with all his choices or not. As I said when I bought the mix tape from him after the show, “Keep on doing what you’re doing!” He replied, “That’ll be seven dollars.”
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Mechanical Equivalent of the Mitt Romney Campaign
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This happened right around the corner a few weeks ago. I was on the spot with the Jim-Cam. The atmosphere was downright carnival-like. Around here, motor vehicle accidents are your best entertainment dollar.
P.S. No one was hurt but the tree.
