WEEK OF 2/21/20

The Breathing Light / all 📷 : Tina Mead

As the bodies collided and water began spraying into the crowd, I couldn't help but wonder if The Art Institute knew what they were in for when they decided to open their doors to a punk show. Punks will be punks after all, but someone was smart enough to limit the drinks to water.

The BIPOC Punk Takeover was organized by Chicago’s Black, Brown, and Indigenous Crew (BBIC) in honor of the Art Institutes’s Vaginal Davis: The White to Be Angry exhibit. The evening of punk (and all its many related genres) centered on black, brown, and indigenous peoples (BIPOC). Both on and off stage. The artists called out to the audience throughout the night asking for the BIPOCs to come front and center. Typically at the shows I attend, people of color are underrepresented, even when the people on stage are mostly black or brown. Here, I was blissfully in the minority. I felt honored to be there, to receive their messages, and in turn, honor/convey their voices with this piece. 

Show organizers Shanna and Joanna, from BBIC, started the evening with a message of recognition for the indigenous people: the Potawatomie, Ojibwa, Odawa, Menominee, and Miami, and others I am woefully omitting here. Those peoples had their land stolen by the Europeans, but BBIC also wanted us to acknowledge that they still live here, unrecognized and underrepresented. 

Speaking of not fully representing, I would like to get one thing out of the way. I fucked up. I thought that Blacker Face was the headliner. I thought there were four bands. So when Blacker Face was the fourth band to perform, I thought the show was over, and I left. It was only when I was on the train going home and looked at the program card I had grabbed on my way out that I realized they had added a fifth band to the line-up: You Guys Suck Like Real Hard Shut The Fuck Up Thanks. By the looks of the vidoes on the BBIC instagram, I really missed the fuck out. I thought about not writing this piece, but I think this show and the messages of the bands are worth talking about, so I wanted to write it, even if it is a sadly incomplete representation of the night as a whole. Deepest apologies to YGSLRHSTFUT. If you are into high energy hardcore, these folks are not to be missed. 

On to the four bands I DID see….

With what has to be the hands down best band logo I have ever seen projected behind them, Mermaid N.V.’s sound drifted up in echoing reverb-laden bass and guitar. The two voices of Shiri Burson and Ro Valladares harmonized sweetly, drifting up and creating a watery effect that was pleasantly in tune with their namesake. Beneath all of this, the drums rumbled and crashed, providing drive of the music. There were many lyrical moments that caught my ear, but it was Burson’s dedication of their last song, “Indigo” to her mother that really struck a chord. Burson explained that her mother couldn't make it to the show because we live in a world that doesn't honor black women. The absence was felt keenly, but even more, Burson helped us feel the myriad forms of violence enacted on her mother and black women in our society. Just existing. Walking around in the world. It makes Burson’s mother and all black women are survivors of violence. Mermaid N.V. honored them by performing “Indigo.” Burson’s bass walked out a blues rhythm that struck at my gut feeling that deep sadness while Valladares sang the uplifting refrain, “Revolution starts at home.” The bittersweet message resonated long after the song ended.

In a complete shift of tone, The Breathing Light ignited the crowd with power that begged for bodies to collide. It happened, as it always does, in a bum rush. When you are focused on the stage, it feels like the movement explodes out of nowhere. With a mass exodus from the center, people not into it found a more serene place to watch the show. But the shoving and bouncing in this crowd was distinctly non-violent. They smiled, and I could feel their joy at this expression of existing. A ‘good’ mosh. One about reminding each other we have each other's backs. Getting the blood pumping and sweating out the anxiety in a space that was safe. Seeing all those shades of brown and black swirling around was like breathing new air. We need BIPOC to be central at more events until it doesn't feel unusual. All rock music is black music. It is rooted in black culture. There shouldn’t be “black punk” or BIPOC punk shows. The Breathing Light made me feel this deep in my gut as the vocals reverberated in my head. Repetitive and veiled like a private prayer. The drums raw and wild, the bass careening and melodic. When off the mic, the guitarist wailed with the artistry of any rock god and  was rightfully worshipped by the crowd.

Uhuruverse caught my attention from across the room before they even graced the stage. When they entered the spotlight, confidence dripped off every inch of them. The power of their voice was undeniable. Uhuruverse took time to tell us who they are: a black, trans, disabled artist. They were speaking on behalf of marginalized communities and to our need as a society to listen and recognize their value and to support them with our money. Hire them for good gigs. Amplify their voices. Support reparations. Uhuruverse is constantly being terrorized by society, so they brought the horror genre into their music with the project, Amerikkkan Psycho. The artistry of it was immediately apparent. Part music, part burlesque, part spoken word. All performance art. “EAT THE RICH!” struck home with the audience. Uhuruverse gave a poetically detailed description of taking a rich, presumably white man apart, piece by piece. Shocked silence became vicariously thrilled laughter and cheer, as they ate every morsel. Or at least the “good” bits. 

The genre mash-up of opera, punk, gospel, heavy metal, atonal jazz, blues, and pretty much every kind of music that has ever existed shouldn’t work. But with the artistry and superior talents of Blacker Face, it does. Jolene Whatevr came on the stage praising the previous performers and the eloquent ways they spoke about what it is to be a BIPOC person and artist. They wanted to echo and support all those messages, and they couldn’t think of anything else to add, so Blacker Face blasted straight into their set, bringing anxiety-laden chaotic energy with “Bad Dream.” As Whatevr sang a litany of people who are going to die felt like a knife was twisting in my chest. But there is something about saying the worst life has to offer in the screaming defiant way Whatevr voices them. If you could sing along, you too could master your greatest fear, losing those you love most. But Whatevr also has a voice you don’t want to interrupt. It is powerful. Wailing and rocking. Soothing with warmth. And cutting with ragged edges. The whole band plays to meet that passion and catharsis. Exemplified by bassist PT Bell, who had been one of the people crashing around the mosh pit earlier now brought that same thrashing energy to playing for us. When Bell and Whatevr’s voices joined in wordless gospel tones, the beauty was uplifting, starting low and growing in strength. Their voices evolved until they were screaming in pain. It was a raw expression of feeling amongst an evening of powerful emotions.

It was a bar set exceeded by their closing song, “Metalocalypse.” It was all of the things. All of the genres. In the lyric, “It’s all for you, take and take, different parts of me,” I could hear in those words the stories and messages spoken over and over again by the performers that night.  The pain radiating from Whatevr’s voice exuding the feeling that faded with the music, I still recall when I close my eyes and cue up that song.

So even if that water thrown around the Art Institute’s Board of Trade room had dried, not leaving a mark by the end of the show, the impact of that night will stay with me for a long time, and it makes me feel like more than just words are required.

This is my call to action. We need more BIPOC representation in the Chicago music scene, and as a contributor to this website, I want to see more BIPOC bands, but also more BIPOC people taking pictures and writing about shows and music. Please, if you are one of those people or know someone, reach out to us. If you see me at a show, say hello. Send me your IG handle. Send us your writing samples. We want to hear from you. We want to amplify your voice. 

-Tina Mead