Stumbled on this free show ... heres' the Chicago Tribune review:
There was a surreal moment of theater that broke out Monday in the middle of Shellac’s concert at the Pritzker Pavilion in Millennium Park.
Singer-guitrist Steve Albini was embodying the last radio announcer playing the last song on earth. To his left, Bob Weston played a funeral-dirge riff on bass. Behind them, Todd Trainer roamed the vast expanse of the Pritzker stage with a snare drum, a Puck-like muse for the announcer broadcasting into nothingness.
Albini signed off by invoking Studs Terkel, Ken Nordine and Jimmy Piersall, Chicagoans who defined their city through strength of a personality that could have been forged nowhere else. Shellac shares a few qualities with those greats, not the least of which is its individuality as a band. Love or hate them, Albini, Trainer and Weston sound like no one else.
All the more reason to hail their debut at the crown jewel of Chicago outdoor venues. The city has been notoriously averse to booking rock bands at Pritzker in past seasons, but that trend is slowly changing (thanks to enlightened thinkers such as Michael Orlove of the city’s Department of Cultural Affairs and independent promoter Mike Reed), and this summer there has been a groundswell of not only rock music, but cutting-edge rock music at the venue. On Monday, Shellac’s appearance drew an audience that filled the lawn and about half the pavilion, a landmark moment for the city’s vast independent music scene.
For 17 years, Shellac has been releasing albums at a leisurely pace and playing concerts in between the members’ day jobs (Albini and Weston are world-class recording engineers). Their music is rigorously orchestrated. Rather than creating a hierarchy separating lead and rhythm instruments, Shellac puts drums, guitar, bass and voice on equal footing. These elements drop in and out of the mix, with dramatic swings in volume and density. Albini manipulates sound and texture on his guitar rather than playing traditional “leads,” Trainer orchestrates the drums as much as he swings the tempos, and Weston’s bass sounds like it could double as a bulldozer.
The band worked through songs spanning its career, from early single “Wingwalker” to new, as-yet-unreleased material such as “Czar of All Czars,” with lyrics drawn from a workers union songbook. There were dramatic set pieces laced with bitterly comedic lyrics (“Prayer to God”), propulsive stomps (“Steady as She Goes”) and a lament about home wreckers (“Squirrel Song”). There were a greatest-hits of Shellac stage rituals (Weston’s question-and-answer sessions with the audience; the three-drummer, cymbal-bashing finale of “Watch Song”) and a few surprises, including a guest vocal by poster-artist extraordinaire Jay Ryan.
The fans, massed against the stage rather than confining themselves to their seats, loved it. The band, known for its combative personality, seemed to revel in the moment. And why not? The City of Chicago has not always been kind to its music community, treating it with indifference or outright hostility. But, hey, if Shellac can play the Pritzker, anything’s possible, right?
“Let’s let the City of Chicago know that they didn’t make a mistake,” Weston cracked. Amen to that.
greg@gregkot.com
