Gordon is the star of the show. He alternates between stomping on stage while playing chords on his acoustic and straining into the mic with that distinctive voice of his. It is this grinding yet melodic sound that distinguishes the Choir from other acts on the folk rock scene. The rest of the band did more than just fill the small Hideout stage however. The lower register of Katy’s cello complements her sonorous backup vocals while percussionist Jack McClain entertains the crowd with costume changes (starting with hula hoop overalls and finishing as a giant banana) and confetti cannons.

The Hideout gig served as a CD release party, so the band entertained the crowd with songs from their new album You’re Called My Secret Fire like the catchy “Noah”, which showcases the band’s emerging ability to put the occasional hook and sing-along chorus into their songs (the live action music video isn’t too bad either). They also managed to throw in an impressive cover of The Cure’s classic “Lovesong” with Gordon using his rough vocals to the fullest, putting a new emphasis on the track as someone pining for a love lost forever.

No matter what, Gordon’s past is always going to influence his songwriting-like Guy Pearce in Memento, his numerous tattoos are always going to hold some memories of painful relationships. However, the Damn Choir’s increasingly polished sound is making its presence felt on the local music scene. Gordon may actually be starting to enjoy this success as the band puts on more light-hearted performances, have fun with their fans, and shoot off a confetti cannon or two.

DATE: Friday, May 4, 2012
WORDS BY: Aaron Hosansky
PHOTOS BY: Pedro DeJesus ( @Lessthan3pi )

While The Fox & The Hounds are most certainly not your next American Idol, their sultry rock riffs coupled with soft opera symphonic breaks provide an ambiance to reveal three things they love: booze, sex and rock. During their performance, the songs battled between genres of rock and softer provocative jazz. There were points a song would be rocking and rolling along, but the slower, more complex breaks are where they truly succeed in creating a sound they can own. For me, the deepest connections were made through these vocally empowered stretches that moved at a more endearing pace.

As any band in their early years, The Fox & The Hounds have a ways to go. I’m happy to see their passion, but I’m happier to see them trying to make something original. I’m happiest of all to see their love for the live performance.

DATE: Wednesday, April 25, 2012
WORDS & PHOTOS BY: Brendan Shanley ( @lostinprint )

Jones, biologically incapable of playing every possible role, brought three of his best mates on tour with him to round out the band. That’s a good idea… in theory. In practice, he played Ron Weasley to the frenetic-yet-lumbering bass player’s Harry Potter throughout the show. Jones also exudes the type of downtrodden, introspective demeanor you would expect to find in the Potter character he closely resembles. Emotionally guarded, but willing to share, Jones breaks through the overpowering noise of the effects and accompaniment just long enough for you to remember what part of your favorite Spectrals song he happens to playing. He’s absolutely genuine in everything he does on stage, but you can only really feel it for brief instances and not the whole show.

The trip across the pond didn’t do anything to distort the sound of Spectrals. Jones is a down to Earth guy you could meet in any pub, anywhere. He’s the everyman with a cool accent and a knack for combining disparate elements into a perfectly mixed cocktail. Still, this performance was missing something. It lacked the joie de vivre you feel when listening to the recordings.

SHOW DATE: Friday, April 20, 2012
WORDS BY: Ben Dahl ( @CobaltInfinity )
PHOTOS BY: Tracy Graham ( @tracygrahamcrkr )

Walking into the House of Blues that Saturday initially felt like escorting a younger sister to a Metro Station concert. Hundreds, if not thousands, of girls a fraction of my age all ready to rock out to the Disney-esque sounds of Action Item and Hot Chelle Rae. Don’t let the marque fool you though, Electric Touch is not a Disney band. They will inevitably reach the point of super stardom (when, not if) paved with romcom soundtracks and collectible action figures, but they’ll still feel genuine because they have just enough British tight pants sensibility. In other words, it’s not the type of band you have to worry about liking now and hating later when they sell out or become uber popular.

As the opener, they had the hard job of playing fluffer to a crowd that probably wasn’t there to see them. It’s a tough gig. Go in and impress a crowd of people that generally don’t care about openers, have no idea what your music sounds like and is easily impressionable. They were on their knees at the feet of the audience and they delivered a performance that left the crowd visibly excited and panting for more.

Start to finish, all the guys in Electric Touch work their asses off for every single die-hard fan they had by the end of the evening. Shane’s sultry, subtle British twang gets piled on top of killer licks from Christopher’s guitar and a never-ending, get your ass in gear drum beat from Louis’ kit–along with swoon worthy vocals and digital ivory duties from Isaac and a cementing bass line from Portland. Yes, everyone’s on a first name basis with the guys in Electric Touch. The start that I referenced earlier would be their performance and the finish would be the end of the Hot Chelle Rae performance. They manned their own merch booth after their set. They took pictures, signed autographs (and body parts) and had an impromptu meet-and-greet with fans at the base of the stairs after the show.

If there were still physical copies of the Encyclopedia Britannica, you would find a picture of Electric Touch next to arena rock in the 2012 edition. They manage to channel everything from The Clash and Aerosmith to The Kinks and INXS while still having their own identity and being approachable. Electric Touch is a rock and roll show for the entire family. If you have a little sister, take her with so you don’t feel so weird asking for an autograph. Then get rid of her and go drinking with the guys after the show.

DATE: Saturday, April 21, 2012
WORDS BY: Ben Dahl ( @thebendahl )
PHOTOS BY: Brendan Shanley ( @lostinprint )

The five English lads took a bite out of 1980′s pop culture when they walked out on stage to a reworked sample from hit Dire Straits song, “Money for Nothing”. The words “I want my…” were stretched out and repeated before taking full shape into “I want my MTV” as the band casually rolled on stage and took their instruments. I pretended for a moment that the crowd would change the chant into “I want my Kaiser Chiefs” but there was no time for that, as the band had already jumped straight away into playful track “Na Na Na Na Naa”. Frontman Wilson commenced his energetic shimmy across the stage, tambourine in hand, eccentric moxie at full force.

I may actually have pages of notes strictly about what the man did with his mic stand throughout the set. Simply put, Wilson straight up made that mic stand his bitch. In fact, he did so many things I’d never seen done with a mic stand before that he inspired me to name some of his moves. First was “The Scarface”: He tossed and twirled it in the air like a baton, caught it and pretended it was a machine gun – all within four seconds flat before slamming it back in place. “The Rocky Balboa”: Perhaps channeling a boxing legend, he threw jabs at the mic stand with hunched posture and great concentration. And lastly, “The Missy Elliot” wherein Wilson laid it down, flipped it and reversed it. Yup. All that.

Really though, the kooky mic stand spectacle was just the co-star to the real thing on spotlight; the music. “Ruby”, “I Predict A Riot”, “Every Day I Love You Less”, “Oh My God”, “The Angry Mob”. It was like a playlist of one sing-along worthy song after another; and the crowd was fully enthralled from the very first one. In a display of very high crowd interaction for a weeknight show, there was chanting, clapping and hopping around for every track. The gents of Kaiser Chiefs also played songs for their latest album Start The Revolution With Me, including popular single “On The Run”. For the duration of one song, the pace shifted from high energy anthems to a slower, more poignant groove. The lights dimmed as a purple hue was cast on the stage and Wilson delivered the words from new track “Starts With Nothing”. With reflective lyrics such as “you start with nothing and you leave with nothing”, the song helps mark the evolution of a band that formed nearly a decade ago. Not every song needs to start a riot – and it was cool to see they can flip that switch off and back on.

The biggest draw, however, to the appeal of seeing this band live is the frontman’s spontaneity. Sure, you could rock Kaiser Chiefs tunes on your iPod any day – but how often will you have the chance to see Wilson mount a giant speaker and remark that the “bass is doing amazing things to [his] testicles”? Right – never. Unless you go their live show, of course. Also, he managed to somehow climb off the stage and over more giant speakers with his microphone and launch himself onto the side bar counter where he chugged a beer that the bartender procured upon his unexpected arrival. Always a jokester, he spoke into his mic with his unmistakable British accent. “Sorry to those of you in the balcony who can’t see me, but I’m fully naked right now – and I’m told it’s a glorious sight!” Hit songs, assaults on mic stands AND laughs? Talk about getting your money’s worth.

Toward the end of the set, Wilson let out an excited yell and shouted, “Chicago! You’re my kind of town!” We feel the same about you, Ricky Wilson. You and your mad talented band mates are always welcome in our city. We might even have some extra mic-stands on hand for you next time.

DATE: Thursday, April 19, 2012
WORDS: Marisa Ruiz (@MarisaVictoria)
PHOTOS: Will Rice (@tweetwillrice)

The whole reason Eve 6 is on tour is to support their new album Speak In Code. It should come as no surprise that they were going to play a set filled with the “new hits” from that record, but they made their decade older fans happy by playing plenty of old gems like “Promise,” “Amphetamines,” “On the Roof Again,” “Open Road Song,” and that one song about the human blood pump in a kitchen gadget that everyone knows the words to. As a die-hard fan, the only song they didn’t play that I wanted to hear was “Rescue.” They managed to strike a balance between old and new that kept everyone happy, or only left them pissed off for a single beer. If only the engineering and the music itself was as balanced as the song selections.

Here’s the thing: Chicago was the first stop on their first tour in like a decade. Chicago is filled with giddy, schoolgirl Eve 6 fans (guilty as charged). Combine the two of those things and you get a musical slurry with recognizable guitar riffs and vocal hooks on top, but mostly you get lots of screaming people drowning out the audio unless you risk permanent deafness by standing in front of a speaker. In all honesty, I’m probably one of the assholes singing over Max’s voice in the YouTube videos. I’m sorry. That’s not ok. But this is one of those situations where I’m not going to feel even the slightest bit guilty because the entire room was filled with dudebros and whoo girls (that are both probably former high school classmates of mine) screaming much louder than I was.

That’s the thing about the music of Eve6. It’s not going to win a Grammy. It’s not going to be some seminal work in the annals of music history because alt rock isn’t even going to be a footnote in that comprehensive tome. It will end up in a movie about partying in high school starring a well endowed girl that you’ll instantly fall in love with (if you knew what love was). She’ll eventually have a TV show on Lifetime Network, and you’ll grow out of the phase where you think bands with numbers in the name are the greatest thing to happen to music since recreational drugs in pill form. It doesn’t sound the greatest coming out of the speaker stacks at Cubby Bear. It doesn’t sound quite as perfect as it did the first time you heard it or saw them live because either your tastes have evolved or, let’s be realistic here, you’re probably drunk. Knowing all of that doesn’t change the way you feel about them though.

At one point, they dedicated “Here’s to the Night” to nights “like this one.” I would agree with that if, by the end of the evening, I had any recollection of where I was or how I managed to get home. But I did feel alive. Alive like a container of 4am Mexican food left on the dining room table overnight following six or seven unnecessary shots of some rum that was probably actually lighter fluid. The thing about that entire quesadilla  debacle is that it actually parallels the concert experience. It sounds like a fantastic idea when you place your order. For ten to thirty-five minutes after consumption you’re in heaven. Reality sets in the next morning when you wake up with no pants on, a dead phone and a sneaking suspicion that you did something incredibly stupid last night. The texts from last night let you piece together a basic timeline of what happened. Your minimal recollection of the evening is right; it was awesome. It wasn’t perfect, but it was awesome.

DATE: Friday, April 6, 2012
WORDS BY: Ben Dahl ( @CobaltInfinity )
PHOTOS BY: Tracy Graham ( @tracygrahamcrkr )

From West Yorkshire, UK, this sibling band, consisting that night of twins Ryan and Gary Jarman and their little brother, Ross, on the drums, shouted incomprehensible lyrics to an amped up crowd. Hearing the audience singing along, Ryan asked if they were repeat customers.  Clearly, most of the fans were. Mentioning that the band not only recorded part of their album in our fair city, but had actually written a song about it, he, as most artists here on tour do, professed his love for Chicago. He said emphatically, “I’m serious! I was supposed to live here!”  A little dejected, he mumbled something about it being hard to get through customs with a patch that says “THE NEED FOR WEED” on your jacket, and shrugged.  Crass, irreverent and totally likable, Ryan said, “I’m not saying that just to kiss your ass, I don’t have that in me”.

Refreshingly so and without an ax to grind, these boys don’t give a shit. They own that attitude unapologetically, but most of their tunes are catchy crowd pleasers anyway. Before launching into “Anna”, they proved to know how to pander just enough to the powers that be. They declared dryly, only somewhat tongue-in-cheek, “Here’s our pop single…to hit the charts”.

The Cribs amassed their own loyal fan base initially by opening for bands such as Franz Ferdinand and Bloc Party. They continued their trajectory in 2010, earning a spot on the Coachella bill, despite having to cancel, and playing Lollapalooza. Embracing a “lo-fi” sound, their live performance sounds almost identical to their recordings. They had no problem packing Schuba’s on a Monday night and could probably fill a bigger venue as headliners. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if they do the next time they come to Chicago. Given their affinity for the city, I’m sure it won’t be long before they do.

DATE: Monday, April 09, 2012
WORDS BY: Liz Gibson
PHOTOS BY: Tracy Graham ( @tracygrahamcrkr )

There aren’t many musical duos talented enough to fill Metro (with bodies and sound); The Ting Tings are one of the duos dynamic enough to pull it off. Katie White and Jules de Martino are both completely capable of making every noise that bears the name The Ting Tings that you’ll hear come out of a speaker, and yet, somehow, neither one of them seems unnecessary. Behind the kit, with or without a guitar, de Martino is just as instrumental to the performance as White is when she’s looking all hot and bothered front and center. de Martino is a just-slightly-behind-the-scenes specter that plays a perfect yin to White’s anachronistic, Victoria’s Secret gym clothes with fitted cap yang. Maybe it’s the understanding of the individual parts that each of them play in the sound, but these two work together like Batman and, well, Batman. There’s no sidekick in the dance party alternate reality of The Ting Tings.

Live performances are supposed to be different from their recorded counterparts. Little mistakes here and there. A palpable live energy. It’s supposed to be a show that you’ll want to write home about. The Ting Tings are the textbook definition of this. You can throw on anything from Sounds from Nowheresville or We Started Nothing and start a party that will leave you, even if you’re solo, tapping your feet and singing along. Live, The Ting Tings are nothing short of a religious experience. You either dance by choice or you get elbowed and stepped on by the people surrounding you until you’re making the same gestures anyways. Why fight it? It’s much more fun to play along and just have a great time.

DATE: Tuesday, April 3, 2012
WORDS BY: Ben Dahl ( @CobaltInfinity )
PHOTOS BY: Tracy Graham ( @tracygrahamcrkr )

Blinking through a blunt fringe of bangs, Klara sang and played guitar unwaveringly with grace and calm. She made purposeful eye contact with individual members of the audience and nodded at them with a kind and knowing smile. The elder of the two, a very tall and slender Johanna, was wonderfully wobbly on her own legs. She would have an awkward millisecond, and then snap back almost immediately to determined confidence. She would open her eyes widely, grit her teeth and assault her keyboard. She would swing her thick, long hair, flip her head up and contort her face into a snarl of conviction and raw emotion. Klara’s voice, clear and smooth, saturated the venue, filling every cranny.

Roughly ten songs into their setlist, the girls asked the audience if they would like to participate in an experiment. Responding affirmatively, the crowd began to stir. Totally unplugged, Johanna and Klara walked to the very tip of the stage. Then, they said the only way the experiment would work is if we could be completely quiet. After a few initial nervous giggles, a long and penetrating hush fell over the two-story venue. Strumming the first few notes of “Ghost Town”, Klara began to sing slowly and both girls swayed encouragingly towards the crowd, beckoning us to sing along. Having a shared experience is one reason we go to concerts. I can say, with very little doubt, that the immensely powerful combined energy created at that moment was felt by every person in that room. In perfectly inharmonious harmony, the whole place sang (or at least mouthed) the words to “Ghost Town” together.

More often than not, First Aid Kit’s lyrics deal candidly with matters of the heart. By turns, they dredge up old aches and address fresh wounds. They give gentle permission for anger or sadness. They remind you of why you loved someone in the first place, too. They tell stories of moving on, explaining how they have done so themselves. They nudge you to forgive. Their songs seem to almost swaddle and soothe. They also have the ability to sweetly galvanize and inspire. I am aware that my take on their songs is personal and colored by my own experience. However, unexpectedly, these interpretations were bolstered when the girls asked the audience to come talk to them after the show. With a little laugh, they sincerely requested, “Please come talk to us. If you’re having any troubles, any problems…we want to hear about them”. They smiled, looking at each other and gave the audience a chance to chuckle. Klara concluded their offer by saying, “We’ll be your first aid kit.”

Using music as a vehicle for healing is not a new concept, but these girls do it with a humble authenticity that can so often feel contrived and stale coming from more seasoned performers. While confident and polished, there wasn’t so much as a glimmer of detectable ego in First Aid Kit’s performance. Chalking this effect up to youth sells them short. No metric exists for how and when people go through the gamut of emotions and experience; similarly, none exists to determine how and when artists grow. I think what makes these sisters so gifted is inherent and cannot be learned. That said, I was blown away by seeing and hearing First Aid Kit during what I hope is a nascent stage of a long and successful career.

DATE: Friday, April 6, 2012
WORDS: Liz Gibson
PHOTOS: Oscar Aguillar (@ODesigngraphics)

One fan in attendance described singer Richardson as “a bad-ass.” With her jet black hair and bangs that laid just over her eyes, she captivated the crowd on songs like “Navigate.” Standing alongside her on stage was Marsden with his long blond hair. They both admirably poured themselves into the lyrics on songs like “Cold Flame.” Fan favorites like “Sweet Sour” and “Light of the Morning” had the diverse crowd sharing in a common passion for this band’s music. As soon as “Light of the Morning” began, there was immediate dancing, jumping around and committed singing from fans. People walked away from a late show on a Tuesday night with smiles on their faces and a hop in their step.

DATE: Tuesday, April 3, 2012
WORDS BY:  Guest Writer
PHOTOS BY: Brendan Shanley ( @lostinprint )