Wendy Eisenberg @ Empty Bottle

The Empty Bottle opened in Chicago’s Ukrainian Village neighborhood in the early ‘90s; I never visited until 2001 (Nebula/Gaza Strippers), when it immediately became a favorite venue. You walked in and it looked like a college hippie crash pad, then a short hallway opened up into a dingy dive bar with a stage in the corner—yet they served Duvel?? It kinda felt like a home away from Linneman’s. I’ve never seen a bad show there; in fact, the shows have been so memorable, they all feel much more recent than they are, still crystal-clear in my brain (except The Go in December of ‘02, that one’s a little fuzzy). I couldn’t believe it when I realized the caroline show last month was the first time I’d been there in 15 years.

Nothing’s changed! Well, hardly anything. They don’t have Duvel any more. But the performance was unforgettable; mind-boggling that a UK band that good would even bother coming to Trumplandia let alone the Midwest, but as the members of caroline acknowledged, the Chicago post-rock scene was a huge influence on them. I definitely thought about the Tortoise show I saw here in 2011. And experienced some serious why-haven’t-I-been-here-in-so-long remorse. The answer being, most likely, it always seems to be Wednesday shows that don’t start until 9.

As it still seems unlikely that I’ll ever get any younger, I figured I’d better just buy a ticket for the Wendy Eisenberg show right when it was announced. I’d seen them for a bit at Big Ears earlier this year but only as part of the Joyful Noise superjam, pretty hard to make out their guitar amongst all that. After hearing Eisenberg’s new self-titled album, this Empty Bottle show figured to be the complete opposite of the Big Ears set. Little did I realize.

On Wednesday evening, some wicked storms blew through Chicago and knocked a tree over and into a power line near the Bottle. When I pulled up it looked like the whole neighborhood was in darkness. There’d been an email letting people who’d bought tickets know: they were firing up a generator to power a rudimentary sound system, the show was still on! Candlelit acoustic show, please bring cash if possible! A part of me was like ‘is this even legal…?’ which of course made it more enticing. Luckily the drive down was in between storms and traffic was a breeze; the journey was less than half the time it took me to get to the Salt Shed LAST Wednesday.

It was truly surreal walking up to the door in utter darkness. True to their word, those little plastic pretend candles were scattered all around the venue, providing just enough illumination to make your way around. Surely the storms kept some people home; others may have been hesitant about the no-electricity thing, and I saw at least one group of people turned away at the door because they didn’t have cash and the door guy had no way of taking a credit card. Still, it was ultimately a pretty impressive crowd given the circumstances. We could barely see each other’s faces; this would likely be an especially attentive audience.

Two glowing orbs in the back and some pink floor lights were all that lit the stage when William Covert and Bruce Lamont came onstage. Covert sat on a drum while he played drums with various implements; Lamont had at least a rudimentary processor going, wailing on the sax and sometimes twisting it into treated sonics. By far the loudest set of the night, it was way more improvisational and invigorating than I was expecting anything to be tonight, having done zero homework. “Buy some merch, they flew us in from New York for this”, said Covert at the end of the set.

There was barely a five-minute pause before Mari Rubio and Wendy Eisenberg came onstage. Rubio, who performs as More Eaze, I was totally unfamiliar with; I learned before the show that she’s Eisenberg’s partner. She explained to us that her normal set featured an electronic setup that would suck way too much juice to function tonight; it would just be violin and acoustic guitar. She began the set solo, a striking violin improvisation; Eisenberg joined in as Rubio began playing mostly songs from her latest album, SENTENCE STRUCTURE IN THE COUNTRY, which Eisenberg guests on. (Rubio also co-produced Eisenberg’s new record.) I’d never heard any of these songs that I know of but “the producer” was stunning and seemed instantly familiar, and “move”, the album- and set-closer, brought a rapturous audience response.

I don’t doubt this performance was even more moving for folks who knew the album, which I was already pretty dead set on buying, even knowing it would be nothing like what I’d just heard. When the songs are this good stripped down to bare bones, the hardest part is already done; how could the album be bad? There was a longer break now; with no way to move air, the humidity was oppressive in the room, and the stage was as far as you could get from the occasional breeze wafting in from the front doorway. It had to be brutal up there; although the view is best from the nearby stairs, I could only stay on them for a little while before I was drenched and had to retreat. This was a true show-must-go-on evening.

It was the same setup for Eisenberg’s set, only this time it was Eisenberg songs. I really hadn’t planned on writing about this show; my brain was still decompressing from putting together the Metal Fest review, and I didn’t much feel like breaking away from the spell being cast to take notes either, so I’m not going to be able to give you a setlist. I can tell you they opened with a song they hadn’t played in a long time because someone had told them earlier that it had been a very meaningful one; it might’ve been “Urge”. There was a lot of banter; I’m so used to Eisenberg shredding somewhere on the side, I couldn’t even recall hearing them talk before. “I’m a songwriter, so I suffer from depression”, they said after the second or third tune. “And this is helping. I’m glad you guys are enduring the candlelight. I’m glad you guys are loving more efficiently.”

I can tell you that although some of the songs’ subject matter was heavy, the mood in the room was indeed all love; Eisenberg may not be a household name but to fans of experimental music they’re already kind of a legend, and this was unimaginably intimate, like sitting in someone’s back yard in your neighborhood with only glowing embers left of the bonfire, jamming and joking around and laughing. And then the song would begin and the whole rest of the room was silent except for the occasional drink order way in the back. There was NBA talk, as the two performers were opposing fans; “It’s gonna be a chilly night in the hotel room”, Eisenberg joked after finding out the Knicks had won.

I can say the duo debuted at least one song they’d never played before from the new album, and I’m not sure if it was a debut, but the biggest surprise of the night for me was a cover of Ween’s “She’s Your Baby”; I can only ever recall witnessing a Ween cover by one other artist before so this was a real delight, and vindicating in a way, if you’ve already given up trying to convince people that Ween isn’t just a joke band. The finale was a tribute to Susan Alcorn, who passed away earlier this year; I told myself I was definitely gonna remember the name of the song. Dammit.

Eisenberg was effusive with their praise of the audience, which is funny because they’re the one who went through the ordeal, trying to make it in this impossible music industry, playing shows constantly with innumerable different ensembles, trying to get into a rhythm on tour and mother nature attacks. You could take the worst possible attitude and feel like you’re cursed, the tour is doomed, blah blah blah, but the reality is, the community WILL pull together in a time like this. One way or another it always does, even if the community is a far-flung bunch of people who just love your music. “This is genuinely my favorite show I’ve ever played”, Eisenberg said at the end of the night. I can assure them everybody in there was glowing and it wasn’t just sweat. I know the rest of the tour isn’t going to be like this, but I know it will rule.