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 33 weeks into the year and I have seen 142 shows.
Gal Gun is a Chicago lo-fi mainstay. They have classic rock roots to their music, but Col Burns’ vocals plant them firmly in the garage. They go from blasé to a whine to a wail in seconds, his edge cutting through the fuzzy guitar perfectly. It’s almost as good as John O’Brien’s scorching guitar solos. Not that he appears to be taxing his talents. These guys play with a practiced laid back delivery. Tony Vaccaro stuck out his tongue as he curved over his kit. Tom O’Brien has a subtle happiness as he plays. When he caught a friend in the audience singing along, he cracked a full smile. They’re serious about their music, but it was nice to see them having fun (especially when you have a song about pizza).
They played album favorites “Demon Eyes” and “Steel,” and even played some yet unrecorded songs, too.
Mike Krol can play many instruments, but on stage he opted to keep his hands free and orchestrate an experience: the matching outfits (faux jumpsuits), the strobe, the smoke machine, the tambourine (which he broke immediately with his rough handling), robot and echo vocal effects.
He reached out and invaded the audience. Not in a violent way, but in a way that coaxed us to rock with them and engage completely. The band was a tight machine, with a set so practiced they don’t need a setlist. Sam Reitman played the drums with sheer force. Allison Crutchfield had a killer cool attitude on bass, whipping her hair back and forth. Graham Hunt twisted in a wide stance, lunging and leaning into his instrument. Sean Lango would look out and connect eyes with someone and flash a brilliant smile. It was thrilling and disarming. He moved with his guitar, leaning forward and back expressively.
The best moment of their perfect sympatico was the way they began “Cease and Desist” with an alternating onslaught traded off between drums, guitars, and bass. When they hit the meat of the song–like so many others–it was all fuzz and force. The tambourine and cymbals and the occasional guitar riff cut through, but it’s otherwise lo-fi, messy, emotional, body-moving perfection.
Swearin delivered a cleaner, bouncier, lower impact version of the lo-fi jams we’d enjoyed all evening. The lyrics more subtle. The bass twisted as she played and the music rolled along on the beat provided by Jeff Bolt on drums. He was laid back and subtle, all wrists. The impact came from the vocalists.
I love the variety we got from Allison Crutchfield and Kyle Gilbride. They both have indie edges to their voice. His voice was wider, like a squeegee, as he danced around with his guitar. Gilbride varied his stance and put his feet at odd angles. It was entrancing. On the other end of the spectrum was Allison Crutchfield. Her voice cut; she showed her teeth as she sang in a snarl. When she stepped away from the mic, she whipped her hair, just like she did in Krol’s band. Pulling double duty, she explained, had been physically demanding, but rewarding.
“Future Hell” was a great showcase for Gilbride’s vocals, and with a hitch near the end of the song before one last squealing thrash, it was one of my fav of the night. The last song featured Crutchfield, which seemed appropriate. It opened up their sound, and Bolt let loose on the drums. And it just happened to be one of my favorites, “Grow into a Ghost.” So, I guess I win.
Gal Gun Facebook | Bandcamp | Instagram
Mike Krol Facebook | Bandcamp | Instagram
Swearin Facebook | Bandcamp | Instagram
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