This is the last post on this blog. It's obvious to me, after several unsuccessful attempts to revive it, that my heart isn't in this blog anymore. Almost as soon as I'd started it, I stopped posting.

Ironically, I think the demise of this blog will help me to write more. Even though I wasn't posting anything here (or elsewhere), I was using it as a reason not to continue some bigger projects; I'd convince myself I needed to tackle the smaller things like updating this blog before concentrating on some long-term goals. Of course, I never got around to anything.

Re-establishing my commitment to the longer-term goals involves clearing my life of some of the smaller clutter.

So there you have it. It's down to two now. You can still read my occassional musings on my main blog and on Chicago Metblogs.

I'm torn on the idea of on-stage theatrics or gimmicks in rock concerts. On the one hand, when done right, they're highly entertaining and add to the overall performance. On the other hand, they can distract me from the music, which is my main reason for going to see a band. Ah, but sometimes that's the point - they can be used to hide an otherwise dull performance.
In this context comes Office, who played Friday night at the Hideout. Right away I knew I was in for a good time when the band brought two antique typewriters onto the stage. I was hoping they'd be used as percussion in the songs - wouldn't that be a fresh take? (always with the caveat, if done right.) Well, there was no such luck, but the typewriters were accompanied by some rather sexy secretaries administrative assisstants dressed not-quite-appropriately for work. Throughout the set they took memos, filed their nails, did shots and flirted with the band. Yes, it was a lot of fun to watch. Of course, I'm such a nerd, I was drooling more over the vintage typewriters than the girls, but it was a great time no matter where your eyes were.

Oh, but how was the music, you ask? See, this is what I was talking about above. I was so um, distracted by the um, ahem, secretaries administrative assistants okay okay, typewriters, I uh, kind of forgot to uh, form an opinion. Ahem. Yes. Fear not, dear reader, for they have more than enough of their music right there on the front page of their website for you to form your own opinion, which is really for the best, isn't it? I don't want to tell you what to think, anyway. Be warned, the music comes on right away, so put some headphones on if you're - wait for it - in the office. Then you can tell me what you think of them in the comments: would the visuals add to great music, or do they distract from a lackluster band?

I still think they should have put a mic on those typewriters.

[Addendum]: I've been listening to the songs on their website the whole time I've been writing this. Now that I'm done, I don't want to close that window, because I want to keep listening to the same five songs. There, how's that for an opinion?

More pictures are here.

As you've probably figured out, this website is on hiatus for a while.

[edit 12/11/05] Update: We're back, for how long this time is anyone's guess.

Since Tankboy requested it, and since I don't want this blog to turn into just an advertisement for future South of North shows, I'll give you my synopsis of last Friday at the Mutiny.

It was excellent.

Well what did you expect me to say? I promoted it.

Okay, okay. But honestly. Hotlips Messiah started us off and brought the rock. They set the tone for the entire night and got everyone dancing and drinking. I'll admit, when I first heard them I didn't go ga-ga or anything, but I've seen them a few more times since. I like what I heard enough to want them on the bill; I think they're a band to pay attention to. They've recently grown comfortable enough to ditch the monkey masks as a gimmick and run with the merit of their own music, so you gotta dig it.

The new band on the Chicago map, the Pumps, blew the audience away. There was a little bit of silent awkwardness as Lauria asked her bandmates if they were ready (come on! I asked you girls that two months ago!), and the audience didn't know what to expect. Then the heartbeat came up a la Dark Side of the Moon and brought us full into it. Now, they're a bit slower and softer than Lauria and Sara's old band, Vicki, but that doesn't mean they're either slow or soft. Sultry vocals came in low and snuck punches in throughout the set. Lauria was still in her cast and had to sit through the entire set, but I know from experience with her former band that she'd be all over the stage otherwise. She still seduced the audience from the barstool, though, and oh, does she seduce. The only thing I'd have to suggest, if I were asked, and I wasn't, is that if they're going to use the heartbeat as their signature beginning, they may want to contact Pink Floyd on copyright issues. I'm just sayin'.

With regards to M.O.T.O., my friend and photographer for the night said they were his favorite band. "I Hate My F'ing Job" (sorry, family blog) would be my favorite song, my anthem if you will, if I um, had a job. I think of them as the Ramones with more sarcastic humor. Maybe. What?

I love the Manhandlers, but yes, the bass was a step behind at times. Or was I just drunk? Hey, no one noticed until they started getting a little angry at each other. Then again, they're a punk band and they're supposed to be angry, right? It was still an awesome end to an awesome night.

Pictures by Dan Sachs are here, here, here & here. I'm too lazy and full of spicy food to embed them in this article right now.

Come see the debut performance of Chicago's newest, hottest band, The Pumps, this Friday, September 23 at Mutiny!

The Manhandlers
The Pumps
M.O.T.O.
Hotlips Messiah

Oh, and did I mention it's FREE?

D.J. Kyle kicks us off at 8:30; bands start at 9:30. Don't forget those $5 half-pitchers! I'm getting a hangover just thinking about them.

The Mutiny is located at 2428 N. Western Ave., just past Fullerton.

Because south of north loves you.

Hello.

Allow me to introduce myself. I'm South of North, not to be confused with a former band called "South of No North," and I write this little music blog. Only, I went on an unscheduled hiatus last month, and you may not remember me. Well, I'm back, and sorry to have abandoned you without explanation for so long.

All told, I think a significant portion of the Chicago rock community took a break after the tragic deaths in July that were the subject of my previous post. I couldn't really bring myself to write about it or anything else, aside from that minimal post; even if it had nothing to do with the three late musicians, in the context of a devastated rock community nothing I wrote seemed to be adequate or even make sense. Even now, I can't really bear to type their names, and I'm not sure why I'm bringing this up a month later.

I'm happy to say, Chicago is very resilient. We've had our share of tragedies in the music industry and we know how to deal with it. Seeing New Black Friday at Subterranean, after a three month break for the band, felt like a return to good ol' days of yore. Um, if "yore" was three months ago... Yeah. New Black has successfully restored my faith in music and reminded me what rock is capable of, because frankly, I'd forgotten. There was dancing, joy, mayhem, fun and love.

Coincidentally enough, Liam, the bassist in New Black, was also in "South of No North." Is there some kind of supernatural connection here? I can always hope.

Following close behind the return of New Black is a true indication and example of Chicago music's resilience. In spite of their double loss, the Dials are coming back with a vengeance next Saturday, August 20, at the Empty Bottle. I don't know who'll be drumming, and I didn't really want to ask, but I'm sure whoever gets up there will play a stellar tribute to Doug. This will be an emotionally charged exciting night, and I think everyone who reads this and/or has any semblance of feeling in your souls should be there, no matter how many hot sweaty bodies you have to cram yourself in between. Nothing will keep me away from the Empty Bottle this Saturday night.

Back when I first saw the Functional Blackouts, they... sucked.

There was a rumor that it was their last show, though I quickly learned that many shows had been their last. However, they've been banned from almost every venue in Chicago, so I hear, due to their violent and destructive nature. I think they just didn't care anymore. Based on their performance that night, they'd clearly given up. There was anger, so much anger and frustration, and they took it out on their instruments, the sound guy, the audience, and me. That's right, I had a monitor pushed off the stage and onto myself.

Needless to say, noisewise, it sounded like... well it was loud, anyway, like pots and pans banging together and the occasional accidental vibration of a guitar string, or maybe a really taut rubber band.

I'm here to tell you, the Functional Blackouts are a completely different band.

Let me say that again, lest you, I don't know, skipped a line: the Functional Blackouts have changed.

They delivered tight, in-tune, in-rhythm, great sounding MUSIC last night at the Empty Bottle. Yup, actual music. The anger was still there although in heavily checked form, the vocals were evil sounding, the guitars were, well, guitars. Honestly I can't even describe any more because I was standing there in shock for the whole show. I haven't even really formed an opinion yet because I'm still in shock and don't know what to think. I know this much though; they cared about their performance this time.

Here's the thing - despite what I said above, I actually liked the Functional Blackouts before. The anger, the mayhem, the violence all served a great escape from the tedium of our lives, a semi-safe steam valve for our self-destructive natures that could otherwise get the better of us. I declared them the angriest and most violent band I knew after that first night, and for that they held a special place in Chicago for me. (Of course, that place didn't exist technically, because they had nowhere to play.) Now that they've taken the higher road, who's on the lower road? Who will fill the void?

Functional Blackouts, I just have to say: it's not you, it's me.

I've known the Baseball Furies for a long time now; I think the first time I heard them was on the 2004 compilation CD Maybe Chicago. To be honest, that recording on the CD is awful, some kind of muddy, lo-fi, demo version, so it's no wonder it took me so long to actually start paying attention to them.

I realized something last night; every time one of their songs comes on, I turn the volume up. I may even turn shuffle off and just start listening to them. Plus, I have a lot more of their songs than many other local bands. It's the sort of music you'd expect to hear in a dingy, sweaty basement packed wall-to-wall with bodies who are so close they can't even slam, just push against each other. The guitar never slows down enough to scream or wail, but it pushes along with the crowd and drives the speed and intensity. Last night, I was able to lose myself in that pulsing, hypnotic, almost-Detroit-style distortion, and for that I thank them. I needed it so. Whatever.

I don't know what the deal is with baseball, but I get the fury part. Maybe it has something to do with knocking out the neighbor's window, dropping the bat and hiding out in your basement with the music turned up the rest of the day.

Again, no pictures. Deal.