My goal is to see one show per week. Yes, I might be that annoying friend that just has to tell you about the thing you missed, but I’m also catching every great show in the city of Chicago–with plenty more ahead of me. Welcome to the Chicago Concert Dispatch.
At the time of this show, it is 8 weeks into the year and I have seen 28 shows.
Palehound lead singer/songwriter/guitarist Ellen Kempner’s latest release “Killer” really got me excited to see this passionate, feminist, LGBTQ artist perform. But it was bassist, Larz Brogan, that captured my attention. She had a languid bounce that started with her knees and moved through her body, ending with a nod of the head and punctuated with the occasional kick. I loved how she and drummer, Jesse Weiss, joyously fed off of each other. They were in sync, and it was beautiful. The drumming made use of silence within the songs, a hitch that anticipated the next beat, emphasizing the evolution of the story told in song. It brought me back to Ellen’s vocals–they were breathy, with moments of falsetto which really caught my ear, like in “Pet Carrot.” Those gentle moments put her power in sharp relief. She wielded her guitar like a weapon. It was clear from her stance and stomp and growling wail that she’s not to be fucked with. In the last song, “Molly,” they really let loose. Jesse was an animal on the drums. They got all angry and crazy-like, and it was wonderful.
Cherry Glazerr hammered out driving rock that revolves around Clementine Creevy. She isn’t a diva; she is a rock star. Her vocals soared and her guitar shredded. The band supported her with precision: bassist Devin O’Brien bounced on his heels while Tabor Allen drummed with a tilt of his shoulders and satisfaction written all over his face.
The audience was there for an experience. The youngest of them pressed front-and-center to the stage, wanting to get as close as possible. They were giddy, reaching out, singing along, squealing at the first recognized chords or words. The band rocked “Nurse Ratched” particularly hard. As they sang “she’s a wild one” at the refrain, a mosh pit kicked off in the middle of the crowd.
The songs were harder, faster, and bouncier live. “Stupid Fish” shredded the recording. Devin became a monster. Sometimes, he danced in jerky, ecstatic ways; other times, he threw himself around the stage. Having made this transformation, he did not let up for the rest of the show. Clementine moved in ways that were reminiscent of rockers through the ages: she marched, she headbanged, she rolled her body and thrusted her hips. Her moves–and her music–question and redefine what it is to be female, what it is to reject or buy into gender, and what it is to search for and become yourself. Unapologetically.
Palehound Facebook | Bandcamp | Instagram
Cherry Glazerr Official | Facebook | Bandcamp | Instagram
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