Crow’s Nest 49: 031223
Happy 1-year anniversary to that time I got high for a concert for the first time
The Inuit may have more than 50 words for snow, but I don’t have 50 introductory greeting phrases for you, and welcome to issue #49 of Crow’s Nest. As always, thank you for opening, hopefully something below will pique your interests.
While the Salt Shed, Chicago’s newest venue of note, officially opened last year, the interior space only did so last month. I have seen 3 separate acts there in the past 2 weeks, and I’m definitely impressed by the space. There’s a bit of awkwardness in getting there and getting in to the venue—the space it occupies is very prominently in the middle of nowhere, and the underdeveloped transportation infrastructure nearby is an irritant—but it’s nothing anyone who visits the Hideout is unfamiliar with, and the army of venue staff keep things moving and prevent things from getting clogged up both inside and outside the space. When I went to grab a drink during the shows I attended, venue staff pointed out shorter lines in the upstairs, back-of-venue grandstands bars compared to the nearby ones. I didn’t take them up on the suggestion, but the lines I was in moved quickly enough regardless—it’s definitely taken me much longer to be served in much smaller spaces.
Repurposing what is quite literally a former warehouse for storing Morton salt into a semi-premium entertainment space was never going to be fully seamless, and the auxiliary add-ons of restaurants and music businesses to fill out the space not dominated by the venue seem a bit lacking at this time. I’m sure things will improve once the Goose Island taproom moves in, and workers and management figure out the best layout outside the main space. The venue space itself is all post-industrial, millennial creator economy chic: bare surfaces, gray-to-rust-brown color scheme, exposed beams and pipework. I’m not sure anyone would consider the sound phenomenal, but it’s by no means bad; I can’t tell whether the ease of conversation on the main floor was an acoustic quality, a result of the music not being as loud as it could be, or that no one felt compelled to shut the hell up for long periods of time. The floor has a slight decline towards the stage, helping to negate some of the geometric issues of tall people in front of you. Despite at least 2 of the 3 shows I’ve been to being sellouts, the venue felt packed but not overly crowded. I am concerned about the amount I sweated in there during shows as temperatures outside the walls were around freezing; if they’re going to host shows in there during the summer, I very much hope some of the ticket price goes towards a hefty A/C bill.
Despite my logistical concerns and some settling-in stresses, I am very much appreciative for the space’s existence, and the care and attention that has gone into providing the best-quality experience for concertgoers. For many of my socio-economic/geographic peers, by the end of this year I imagine the Salt Shed will be a bit like smartphones: one day it was here, and the next we couldn’t imagine life without it. The consensus first impression, based on the size of the space, seemed to be ‘This is better than the Aragon [Ballroom]’. For my concerns about the semi-incestuousness of the 16 on Center brand family, of which the Salt Shed is the newest and biggest addition, they are at least sincere about their intent to provide an above-average experience to showgoers, which is far more than can be said for other Chicago venues in league with Live Nation. If $5 PBR cans, no double drinks, and $40+ ticket prices before fees can be considered ‘reasonable’ in this day and age, I’m glad to see the Salt Shed off to a great start. It already feels a bit like a home away from home.
Surprise: I’ve been getting into African Head Charge these past couple weeks. (The surprise being that I haven’t gotten into them earlier given my … consumption habits.) Don’t ask me when the catalog (or the majority of it) of On-U Sound’s psych-dub group came to Bandcamp, I just found it was there when contemplating what to fill up my cart with last Bandcamp Friday. If you’ve not listened to them before, the consensus high-water mark of their discography is as good as any.
Those who know me irl (or perhaps regularly catch my Tweets @embirdened) know that I sometimes struggle to put 2 and 2 together. Case in point: while I am somewhat familiar with both Brazilian music and shamanic culture, it wasn’t until I came across this archival LP of shamanic Brazilian music that I considered the two could intersect. (In my defense, as an American, shamanic Latin American culture is perceived as more of an Andean/non-Brazilian Amazonian thing.) In addition to being phenomenal acoustic guitar-driven music for someone who largely does not get those LPs, this record was crowdfunded (back in 1980!) to help get this impressionistic journey to the Amazon out of Carioca’s head. It’s a fascinating object well worth your consideration in any location or state of intoxication.
I feel like if I used the term ‘Shit Hippies’ in front of my mom, she’d respond with her ‘Wasn’t that a band we were in?’ bit. Which would cause me to give the sort of ‘Excuse me?’ facial expression intending to communicate ‘No mom, you are/were not in a Nottingham band playing New Zealand style drone/noise rock. The sort of music that somehow launches fully into itself immediately upon starting, causing you to lose your temporal grounding such that you cannot recognize the passage of time, whether it’s been 2 minutes, 20 minutes, 10 years, you’ve fully forgotten that anything other than this has ever existed, could exist, will never not exist, how did I even get here, could I even possibly get out?, holy moly I’m not even high right now but what the fuck, damn …’
Here’s a quick burst of energy for you: first-wave Boston punk from which you can hear much of the proceeding music to come as a result of that first revolution. The energy of punk is there on the A-side, the B-side has the sonic landscape and vibes that would fuel post-punk and new wave, respectively. For those of you who do cough up the scratch and purchase this, you get 3 live songs in addition to the studio wax to further add to La Peste’s portrait. An archival, essential 7” from Wharf Cat.
While dance music has no shortage of mysterious, enigmatic figures among its ranks, Kassem Mosse remains one of the most notable of these kinds, with DJs regularly getting excited for his releases. His deconstructed take on lo-fi house has been getting a fair amount of praise recently—for good reason. It is utterly fascinating to hear how stripped down and minimal some of these numbers are, and how little is needed to keep a groove going for a little shuffling.
Speaking of lo-fi house, as I was tightening up the prose of this issue for publication I spun this EP from Swedish/Sri Lankan producer Lex Ludlow, out on Atomnation, in the background and have wound up really enjoying it. A bit more fleshed out and conventional than KM but still deep, minimal and lo-fi, this slab of house music will be up your alley for melancholy on the dancefloor (or perhaps wishing you were on one when you spin it by yourself).
In the sense that ‘alt’ might refer to a difference in style than the most prominent, biggest names in electronic music writ large—they are very much mainstay attractions in and of themselves at this point—alt-dance diva Róisín Murphy and big-room presence DJ Koze have teamed up again on the debut single from Murphy’s forthcoming TBA album. CooCool is more understated and non-anthemic than Pick Up, though considering both artists thrive as much in the moodier, understated moments on the dancefloor as during the ecstatic high points, that’s not a bad thing. Hopefully Róisín comes to the states for shows soon.
Much of dub music adheres, in my mind, prominently to the idea of the ‘studio as instrument’ notion Brian Eno articulated in the 70s. It’s very much apparent that much of its power comes from the high fidelity of the recordings and the sound systems they play on, as contrasted by this more lo-fi take on the genre and some of its associates by Midnight Minds. By no means bad if you’re looking for some 15-minute+ experimental zoners, but interesting to note how the exclusivity of studio access has become with modern technology and fiscal constraints, and what we’ve been losing as a result of that.
A couple quick one-offs from artists whose work I’ve really enjoyed the past few months which, honestly, just makes me want to listen to the full albums more:
-Spacemoth, the flower girl sci-fi psych pop project by producer Maryam Qudus, released an alternate version of No Past No Future track If I Could Close My Eyes And Pretend featuring Meric Long of The Dodos. If the track’s relative mellowness was still too much for you, or you were wondering how her work would sound during an acoustic session, dive in:
-Delivery, the very good Melbournian punk act whose early Parquet Courts x early Devo crossbred sound has been a constant listen for me the past few months, released this collaborative one-off with Adelaideians Workhorse this week. The latter inject a little alt-country haze into the former’s wire-taut sound.
One of the great tragedies of Chicago is the neglect the city’s leaders have for the vast cultural and musical legacy generations of southsiders have incubated and developed. There are many instances, going back to at least the Rolling Stones praising bluesmen through Mike Paradinas and Kode9 compiling footwork tracks, of British folks informing residents of the city of the innovations occurring in our own backyards. Nevertheless, I’m thankful someone is doing that work. An example here: a series of deep house edits from Beverly resident Jamie 3:26 popping up on BBE. Plenty of groove to shake things out while thinking either about the present or past legacy of this work.
And that will be it for issue #49 of Crow’s Nest. Thank you for reading, as always, and I hope you found something within you enjoyed. Make some plans, get those taxes in, and tell someone you know that you love them.
Really digging that Delivery/Workhorse collab. It’s got just the right amount of sneering for my taste.