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 21 weeks into the year and I have seen 98 shows.
Matchess performed with a lit candle on her board. It was an atmospheric and symbolic start to an ethereal performance. Her music made me close my eyes and ride the wave, but then I would hear the quiet clicking of plastic as she pulled the next cassette off one of two piles and put it in one of the two tape decks in her rig. I watched as she smoothly switched between sounds, bought them in slowly, almost so you couldn’t tell what was coming from where.
As she worked with the cassettes and effects, she often used cassette cases to hold ranges of keys down, laying the groundwork of the music for seamless transitions with other elements. Tapes were gently discarded onto the floor when finished. All these gentle clicks and mechanics of starting and stopping the players became a very satisfying tactile part of the music. The sounds playing off the tapes were mysterious. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to let myself be immersed in it, or concentrate on sleuthing out what the sounds were. Perhaps the sounds are like a magician’s secret?
But I was pretty pleased when, after the show, my friend Scott did what I daren’t: he asked Whitney what was on the tapes. While some she records herself, others are found. One in particular is a recording of an instrument from Sweden called a “bullroarer,” a specially shaped piece of wood on a string that’s swung around your head. The people in Paleolithic times in societies all over the world would use it to communicate over long distances. And now, it is a part of a Matchess song so new it is yet to be named.
Bill MacKay has an unassuming stage presence. He started by running his pick and slide up and down the strings, softly and slowly at first to make a rattling static noise to lead into “Powder Mill Park.” The chucking and chords instantly brought country blues to my mind. There was movement to the music. MacKay was playing to express, to find, the sound in his head. There was no one else on the stage for him to interact with or keep in sync with. Just MacKay, searching, concentrated.
Then, a look of discovery would wash over his face. His sudden smile was a reward along with the music that inspired it. When he sang, his vocals had a timeless, warm tone to them. The perfect match for his music, unearthed from an archive quality. His music traversed from country, bluesy folk to atmospheric. Sometimes, the atmospheric songs sounded almost like listening to a folk song being played at the bottom of a well or from deep in a cave. When he ended with “Arcadia,” there was an almost mystical, otherworldly sound, like it was music from beyond that MacKay was tapping into. He was the conduit, and we were the lucky receivers.
I never would have guessed it was Olden Yolk‘s first time headlining a show in Chicago. The band appeared perfectly at ease on the Hideout’s stage. Even if the mid-tour haze meant they weren’t sure what day of the week it was, they were gracious to the audience, venue, and other bands on the bill. It was a reminder of how hard touring bands work when they are on the road.
Despite the road weariness (or maybe because of it), they found refuge in their music, emphatically singing and playing. It was easy to get lost in the dreamscape that was Olden Yolk’s psychedelic folk rock tunes. They weaved and bopped and had hooks that pleased. The band’s core is the musical partnership of vocalists Shane Butler and Caity Shaffer, both with beautifully breathy vocals that are the epitome of the psych sound. Butler felt the music with his face and body and feet. When he played guitar, he was mobile, making full use of his square of stage. The rhythm section was in the pocket. I especially dug how Ryan Jewell kept a sharp beat with his whole body. He had a wooden block on the drum kit that had a cowbell-like effect he used sparingly. When combined with perfect hitches in the music and Shaffer’s vocals in “Blue Paradigm,” it made for a song that really tickled the happiness center of my brain.
The next song, “Grand Palais,” took the energy up and up until Butler was shouting the end of the song. It took my breath away. The set rolled along, so that I could barely believe it when Shaffer whispered, “It’s over,” at the end of “Distant Episode” and said good night. I felt the instant melancholy of it being over all too soon.
Luckily, they graced us with an encore–a love song, “Hens Teeth.” They crooned at us:
I didn’t know you could find love,
I didn’t know you try love,
I didn’t know you could live by love.
…to end a night of what felt like sacred music. It was perfect to end with the most precious thing in this life.
Matchess Bandcamp | Instagram
Bill MacKay Facebook | Bandcamp | Instagram
Olden Yolk Facebook | Bandcamp | Instagram
You must be logged in to post a comment.