Last year I jailed music in my Jungian shadow and only gradually have let it out for walks around the yard. I was born from music, but had to burn the guitar and defect to the sides of images and words. These other devils should have their play, right?
Eventually these hands down at the end of my arms found their way to the piano that’s just in the other room, and tinkled ruthlessly at it like it was some ideal cigarette, and the music jinn slipped its cuffs. And then I was toting a tape recorder out some nights, recording just a little bit of the good live music that springs in Chicago 2015 as water from the cracks of a molded stone world.
Splendorous Chicago music! I nabbed some lifted live moments of the Hecks and Coffin Ships in Pilsen on New Year’s Eve. Across the spring I gathered too Justin Fernandez, Famous Laughs, and Gula Gila, live sometimes at Situations. And a fine pointed poem, read aloud by its author, Kerry Couch, on the day it had been written (“… this is Illinois, my friend”).
Drink, drink now this bootleg slurry — a medley of sound picked out of the spring —