Infinite Chicago
Not even sure where to start with this. look_alive has been keeping me very busy. Busier, actually, since she's moved back into our old neighborhood, but that's because we made all of the plans for the weekend. So, a general recap is in order, because I have a ton of random notes in my iPod that would otherwise go to waste.
Friday and Saturday we went to the "Local Music Revolution" festival. The description on the press release I found was "the acts run the gamut from...electronically influenced pop punk to...reggae and ska influenced pop punk." Which I laughed at, because that's actually a very short gamut and is pretty much the reason I haven't bothered much with the Chicago scene, but things running that particular gamut are totally look_alive's thing, and I pretty much don't say no to shows, so we went.
Pretty much as you'd expect, I have sarcastic notes about everyone (several of which are stolen from sarcastic comments that were not my own), but the interesting thing is... while there were acts that were terrible ideas, none of the bands were completely inept. In fact, the whole thing was pretty professional, which is not generally what you expect with, you know, Local all prominent in the title. I was going to say Blackbox was objectively terrible (and we'll get to why) but they've actually won an Emmy (what they don't tell you is that it's a midwest regional Emmy, but whatever. Guys with hair like theirs can do whatever they want.)
So, we got there just after the first set on Friday, in time to witness Exoskeleton, which was pop-punk as performed by a greaser lead singer with a muppet playing a five-string bass with his beard. There was much speculation as to whether the bassist developed the mane while he was part of the band, or if they just found him that way (or if he came from a magic can of PBR in a time of need). They were followed by Draft Week, who are look_alive's new local patron band. Their lead singer would look about 12 if it weren't for the little scruff of facial hair he has, and overall they were pretty adorable, and they were much better than their third-in-the-lineup position suggested. (Also, I'm pretty sure they had a bit of an existential crisis when it came out that we were more or less there to see them and we didn't know anyone in the band. Also I think the drummer was crushing a bit on look_alive and she abandoned me, leaving me to wing-girl for her with this painted-up rocker dude when he came to talk to her while we were schmoozing in the merch room. Worst part was that the guy was from a band whose set I hadn't even seen, and so I had absolutely nothing to say. Also the band was trying to get us to go to a show on the "south side" at 112th and Harlem, which I'm pretty sure isn't even Chicago anymore.) But anyway... after the schmoozing we headed back upstairs for the last two songs of Blackbox's set and... okay, so the lead singer had long pink hair that was all spiked up in the back. It was, if anyone remembers Wigu from the days of old, exactly Paisley Tinkle's hairstyle. Exactly. So that was distracting. They were also the subject of the most intense documentary. There was a camera between us and the drummer the entire time. (I think this was the guy we decided had zombie-skin drum heads, and he had to keep hitting them as hard as he could to keep them from coming back to life, but I could be wrong.) Oh, and to add to the worrying miasma of discomfort Blackbox caused, their shirts also all made copious use of the Twilight font. Also there was a song blaming hot girls for turning guys gay. I don't even know, guys. I don't even know.
Then there was The Last Vegas, which was straight-up AC/DC, Aerosmith, Rolling Stones-type skinny guy in women's pants strutting-rock. It wasn't enlightening, but it was extremely entertaining. Though the lead singer seemed to be very conspicuously missing some of the equipment that's supposed to propel that sort of rock. (Possibly the jeans were actually sex-appropriate, if not gender-appropriate?) They had some charisma and stage presence going for them, though, so I give them a pass. AM Taxi closed out the night, and they had actual fans who knew all the words, which threw me off. It was a fun set, though there wasn't anything remarkably great or worth making fun of.
Saturday we also missed the first act, but we also had a better plan of attack for the bands (meaning we'd already done our research and determined which ones were hopeless). We arrived in time to see Lifehouse/Creed/Nickelback impersonators The Revolution One, who were all clad in matching leather jackets. Their guitarist had a very cyclical set of rock-out sessions that were possibly indicative of an impending transition into a werewolf. Also every song they played sounded like something I had heard before, which is kind of impressive, in its own way, for a band that isn't a cover band.
And then there was Bambi Raptor. Which... I'm not sure there's anything that could properly have prepared us for them. We knew they'd be fun (I mean, they have a song with a chorus of "I like cosplay!"), and they had a sort of late-90s ska exuberance. But they appeared on stage in boxer shorts and had painted each other (one was sporting flames). Then proceeded to play while a menagerie of luchadores and dinosaurs danced and fought behind them. It was like someone took the Flaming Lips and mashed it up with the illogical extreme version of Sufjan Stevens' current fixation on day-glo electrical tape and bombastic dances, and then made sure Reel Big Fish was involved in the soundtrack or something. (I approved.)
Unfortunately, they were a tough act to follow, and they were followed by Trainwreck Symphony. The only thing cool (or symphony) about this band was that they had a lolita'd-out girl with an electric violin. Everything else was just... trainwreck. Loud rap-rock that, for some reason, the crowd was super into. Except for us. Everyone else's set had been half an hour, and these guys inexplicably played for an entire hour and got an encore. It was awful. It was purgatory. They actually depressed look_alive so much we had to go sit down and she resorted to drinking. In hindsight, it probably would've helped immensely. I can't think of another cure for an endless parade of Lincoln Park-style guest MCs and crooning.
And finally there was Makeshift Prodigy, who we'd actually made fun of consistently beforehand because the only song we could find on their painfully pretentious website was a very Intense solo piano video. We were pretty sure we were in for an hour of weeping on a piano (which, honestly, still would've been better than Trainwreck Symphony). Instead, it was passably entertaining alt-rock with a non-sequitur super-enthusiastic keyboardist (in addition to the piano) who seemed like he'd just installed himself in the band as a matter of convenience for himself (he reminds me of someone I saw at Hillside, but I'm blanking on who at the moment). The piano itself ended up being vaulted over, and sung upon, and at one point the lead singer was caterwauling into the mic and I'm pretty sure he was sweaty but as far as I'm concerned he was dripping tears onto the piano, so all was right with the night. The show ended with a giant sing-along of Let It Be, which he dedicated to his mom (so many bands had parents there... it was cute).
Other things of note: about five miles of guyliner were applied by the various bands at these shows. Also zombie drums are a thing and must be stopped. And if anyone makes it mainstream, it's probably going to be Trainwreck Symphony.
Sunday was spent at Chicago Comic-con, because we could (and because there was a Groupon and so we only had to pay $15 each). We ended up wandering the merch room and talking horror movies while random guys attempted to get our attention (the guys with the posters actually came close to being endearing, because they kept a distance and just gently mocked us for looking at every single poster. But whatever, both of us were looking for things to stick on our bare walls, and now I have a Dalek schematic, and the I Want to Believe poster (in case I ever have my own office)). We didn't do much panel-wise, but we did watch the kids' costume contest, which was one of the most adorable things I've seen. There was a tiny, brooding Nightwing, and a tiny Indiana Jones, and two Angs and a Zuko all together and a girl-Iron Man (complete with lipstick on the mask) and a tiny girl Mario who was just wide-eyed and enthralled by everything, and who tried to give look_alive the sword she'd won as a prize. The only judging was done by an older preteen kid we dubbed Judging Jedi, who walked around pointing his two lightsabers at people going "You're awesome, you're awesome..." He later had a duel with James Bond, after loaning him one of his lightsabers. It was just relentlessly happy, and there were no tantrums, no screaming fits. Guys, I'm pretty sure all the world's problems can be solved by dressing kids up as superheroes and giving them weapons. I've seen it with my own two eyes. Heck, I was sitting right next to the prizes and I didn't even get whacked in the head once by a stray sword. The parents had raised these kids right!
Gosh guys, I hope that was long enough for you. Did I name-drop look_alive enough? (I run out of pronouns too quickly.)
Friday and Saturday we went to the "Local Music Revolution" festival. The description on the press release I found was "the acts run the gamut from...electronically influenced pop punk to...reggae and ska influenced pop punk." Which I laughed at, because that's actually a very short gamut and is pretty much the reason I haven't bothered much with the Chicago scene, but things running that particular gamut are totally look_alive's thing, and I pretty much don't say no to shows, so we went.
Pretty much as you'd expect, I have sarcastic notes about everyone (several of which are stolen from sarcastic comments that were not my own), but the interesting thing is... while there were acts that were terrible ideas, none of the bands were completely inept. In fact, the whole thing was pretty professional, which is not generally what you expect with, you know, Local all prominent in the title. I was going to say Blackbox was objectively terrible (and we'll get to why) but they've actually won an Emmy (what they don't tell you is that it's a midwest regional Emmy, but whatever. Guys with hair like theirs can do whatever they want.)
So, we got there just after the first set on Friday, in time to witness Exoskeleton, which was pop-punk as performed by a greaser lead singer with a muppet playing a five-string bass with his beard. There was much speculation as to whether the bassist developed the mane while he was part of the band, or if they just found him that way (or if he came from a magic can of PBR in a time of need). They were followed by Draft Week, who are look_alive's new local patron band. Their lead singer would look about 12 if it weren't for the little scruff of facial hair he has, and overall they were pretty adorable, and they were much better than their third-in-the-lineup position suggested. (Also, I'm pretty sure they had a bit of an existential crisis when it came out that we were more or less there to see them and we didn't know anyone in the band. Also I think the drummer was crushing a bit on look_alive and she abandoned me, leaving me to wing-girl for her with this painted-up rocker dude when he came to talk to her while we were schmoozing in the merch room. Worst part was that the guy was from a band whose set I hadn't even seen, and so I had absolutely nothing to say. Also the band was trying to get us to go to a show on the "south side" at 112th and Harlem, which I'm pretty sure isn't even Chicago anymore.) But anyway... after the schmoozing we headed back upstairs for the last two songs of Blackbox's set and... okay, so the lead singer had long pink hair that was all spiked up in the back. It was, if anyone remembers Wigu from the days of old, exactly Paisley Tinkle's hairstyle. Exactly. So that was distracting. They were also the subject of the most intense documentary. There was a camera between us and the drummer the entire time. (I think this was the guy we decided had zombie-skin drum heads, and he had to keep hitting them as hard as he could to keep them from coming back to life, but I could be wrong.) Oh, and to add to the worrying miasma of discomfort Blackbox caused, their shirts also all made copious use of the Twilight font. Also there was a song blaming hot girls for turning guys gay. I don't even know, guys. I don't even know.
Then there was The Last Vegas, which was straight-up AC/DC, Aerosmith, Rolling Stones-type skinny guy in women's pants strutting-rock. It wasn't enlightening, but it was extremely entertaining. Though the lead singer seemed to be very conspicuously missing some of the equipment that's supposed to propel that sort of rock. (Possibly the jeans were actually sex-appropriate, if not gender-appropriate?) They had some charisma and stage presence going for them, though, so I give them a pass. AM Taxi closed out the night, and they had actual fans who knew all the words, which threw me off. It was a fun set, though there wasn't anything remarkably great or worth making fun of.
Saturday we also missed the first act, but we also had a better plan of attack for the bands (meaning we'd already done our research and determined which ones were hopeless). We arrived in time to see Lifehouse/Creed/Nickelback impersonators The Revolution One, who were all clad in matching leather jackets. Their guitarist had a very cyclical set of rock-out sessions that were possibly indicative of an impending transition into a werewolf. Also every song they played sounded like something I had heard before, which is kind of impressive, in its own way, for a band that isn't a cover band.
And then there was Bambi Raptor. Which... I'm not sure there's anything that could properly have prepared us for them. We knew they'd be fun (I mean, they have a song with a chorus of "I like cosplay!"), and they had a sort of late-90s ska exuberance. But they appeared on stage in boxer shorts and had painted each other (one was sporting flames). Then proceeded to play while a menagerie of luchadores and dinosaurs danced and fought behind them. It was like someone took the Flaming Lips and mashed it up with the illogical extreme version of Sufjan Stevens' current fixation on day-glo electrical tape and bombastic dances, and then made sure Reel Big Fish was involved in the soundtrack or something. (I approved.)
Unfortunately, they were a tough act to follow, and they were followed by Trainwreck Symphony. The only thing cool (or symphony) about this band was that they had a lolita'd-out girl with an electric violin. Everything else was just... trainwreck. Loud rap-rock that, for some reason, the crowd was super into. Except for us. Everyone else's set had been half an hour, and these guys inexplicably played for an entire hour and got an encore. It was awful. It was purgatory. They actually depressed look_alive so much we had to go sit down and she resorted to drinking. In hindsight, it probably would've helped immensely. I can't think of another cure for an endless parade of Lincoln Park-style guest MCs and crooning.
And finally there was Makeshift Prodigy, who we'd actually made fun of consistently beforehand because the only song we could find on their painfully pretentious website was a very Intense solo piano video. We were pretty sure we were in for an hour of weeping on a piano (which, honestly, still would've been better than Trainwreck Symphony). Instead, it was passably entertaining alt-rock with a non-sequitur super-enthusiastic keyboardist (in addition to the piano) who seemed like he'd just installed himself in the band as a matter of convenience for himself (he reminds me of someone I saw at Hillside, but I'm blanking on who at the moment). The piano itself ended up being vaulted over, and sung upon, and at one point the lead singer was caterwauling into the mic and I'm pretty sure he was sweaty but as far as I'm concerned he was dripping tears onto the piano, so all was right with the night. The show ended with a giant sing-along of Let It Be, which he dedicated to his mom (so many bands had parents there... it was cute).
Other things of note: about five miles of guyliner were applied by the various bands at these shows. Also zombie drums are a thing and must be stopped. And if anyone makes it mainstream, it's probably going to be Trainwreck Symphony.
Sunday was spent at Chicago Comic-con, because we could (and because there was a Groupon and so we only had to pay $15 each). We ended up wandering the merch room and talking horror movies while random guys attempted to get our attention (the guys with the posters actually came close to being endearing, because they kept a distance and just gently mocked us for looking at every single poster. But whatever, both of us were looking for things to stick on our bare walls, and now I have a Dalek schematic, and the I Want to Believe poster (in case I ever have my own office)). We didn't do much panel-wise, but we did watch the kids' costume contest, which was one of the most adorable things I've seen. There was a tiny, brooding Nightwing, and a tiny Indiana Jones, and two Angs and a Zuko all together and a girl-Iron Man (complete with lipstick on the mask) and a tiny girl Mario who was just wide-eyed and enthralled by everything, and who tried to give look_alive the sword she'd won as a prize. The only judging was done by an older preteen kid we dubbed Judging Jedi, who walked around pointing his two lightsabers at people going "You're awesome, you're awesome..." He later had a duel with James Bond, after loaning him one of his lightsabers. It was just relentlessly happy, and there were no tantrums, no screaming fits. Guys, I'm pretty sure all the world's problems can be solved by dressing kids up as superheroes and giving them weapons. I've seen it with my own two eyes. Heck, I was sitting right next to the prizes and I didn't even get whacked in the head once by a stray sword. The parents had raised these kids right!
Gosh guys, I hope that was long enough for you. Did I name-drop look_alive enough? (I run out of pronouns too quickly.)