Beatleweek Part 2: You say it's your birthday? Paul McCartney visits Chicago for mine!

Seeing A Hard Day’s Night in a theater was a memorable experience, but the real highlight of this week and summer (and a major life event) was being lucky enough to see Paul McCartney live and in person.  Sir Paul gave Chicago an astounding show that exceeded my expectations.  If at any point in this post it seems I’m not quite making sense, it’s because I’m sleep deprived due to the fact that he played for nearly THREE HOURS.  Practically continuously.  If there’s any reason to forego sleep on a weeknight, it’s staying up late to see a Beatle with superhuman energy and stamina journey through over 50 years of era-defining hit songs.

I’m so glad I jumped at the chance to see Paul this time around.  Last time he was in Chicago I couldn’t afford tickets.  Admittedly, I probably couldn’t quite afford them this time, but I don’t regret it.  Besides, when I found out that Paul McCartney was playing a show in Chicago on my 24^th birthday, it felt like a sign that I had to go.  My friends Jenny and Lizzy, my steadiest concert buddies who are even bigger Beatles fans than I am, were just as willing to do whatever it took to see him.  I’m very grateful to Jenny for going through the stressful process of ticket-buying while in class at veterinary school.  She even recruited her friend to help her get the best possible seats.

Yesterday…

After weeks of subtly mentioning to almost everyone that I would see Macca on my birthday, finally, the day had arrived!  I overslept, quickly threw on my favorite dress, and headed out to work.  Nothing could ruin my mood: it was my birthday, I had secured a month extension on my lease the day before, the weather was beautiful, and most importantly, in a few hours I would be in the presence of one of the most influential musicians of the last century and writer of the songs I grew up listening to.  Beatles songs played in my head all through work, and after 5:00 I dashed off to meet my friends at The Billy Goat Tavern near the United Center.  The place was packed with fans, many wearing Beatles and Paul McCartney shirts and chatting excitedly.

Around 7:00 everyone migrated en masse to the United Center.  Our bags were checked, our tickets were scanned, and we were in!  We browsed the merch stand (I bought a set of postcards) and a fifty-something couple joked with us that we were the youngest people there, and did we know who The Beatles were?  At least, I hope they were joking.

He was totally wearing Beatle boots.

The concert was entertaining from start to finish, especially the second half which was especially Beatles-songs-laden.  He opened the show with the cheery vibes of “Eight Days a Week” and finished it off appropriately with “Golden Slumbers/Carry That Weight/The End.”  In between those were 35 other excellent songs.  That is 39 songs in all, if you count the last as three.  THIRTY-NINE.  More than twice the average setlist for any other performer.  I guess you have to play that many songs when you have such a mammoth catalogue of work.  I can’t possibly go through each one here, so I will pick out the best bits.

Most Pleasantly Surprising:

When he finished off “Let Me Roll It” with a jam out to Jimi Hendrix’s “Foxy Lady.”  Of course I had to record it for my dear friend and Ace Gang member Val; you see, it’s our song.  FOXY!  Then Paul told us a story he apparently tells at all his shows:  The Beatles had released Sgt. Pepper on a Friday, and two days later Jimi Hendrix had learned the song and opened the show with it.  By the end of the song his guitar was so out of tune that he called out to Eric Clapton, who was in the audience that night, to tune it.  My brain melts from just thinking about all of them in the same room together.

Most Poignant:

This was easily when Paul played “Here Today,” his tribute to his bandmate and friend, John Lennon: “a conversation we never got to have.”  It was beautiful and heartbreaking.  I wish so much that John were still here and could have played along with Paul.  He must have been there in spirit.  I hope so, anyway.  I think everyone can agree that we are glad that Paul met John all those years ago.

A close second was when Paul played “Something” on the ukulele and dedicated it to George.  It was bittersweet, but it’s impossible to be completely sad when you hear a George song, especially when played on the ukulele.  I think this version was a great tribute, given George’s fondness for the ukulele.  I plan to learn to play this version on my own. *UPDATE: I have done this.

Most Spectacular:

“Live and Let Die” was SO COOL live.  How else would you perform a James Bond theme song but with loads of pyrotechnics?  It was fireworks and fireballs from beginning to end, punctuating each riff, filling the United Center with smoke and the smell of gunpowder.  The musicians were running about the stage looking like they were having more fun than anybody.

Most dancey:

Lizzy made us realize we absolutely needed to stand up and dance to “Ob-La-Di Ob-La-Da.”  It was an odd situation since most people actually did sit during the show, given that it was a huge arena and the vast majority of the audience was on the older side.  There were some songs that many people did stand for, and many that were at the very least given a standing ovation.  I hope we didn’t block the view of the people behind us though, because we did rise for several particularly fun and/or important songs.

Most rocked out:

“HELTER SKELTER!”  Paul and his band gave all they had for that song.  It was loud and gritty and screamy and badass.  If you had come into the show right then (which would have been really unfortunate as it was at the end) you would never have guessed that these guys had already been on stage playing for over two hours almost nonstop.

Most spiritual:

“Let It Be.” Obviously.  What hopeful, reassuring words he wrote.  Always an absolute stunner of a song, but especially when you’re singing along with the man who penned it and 15,000 other people.

Most “Oh my god that is Paul McCartney that is SIR PAUL MCCARTNEY IN THE FLESH IN THE SAME ROOM AS ME”:

I cannot tell you how fortunate I feel to have witnessed “Hey Jude” live.  What an anthem.  The room was filled with pure joy as everyone sang “Naaaa na na nanana na” at the top of their lungs.  Paul let us do a few ourselves as he beamed on stage.  He must still feel a huge rush from that.  Why else would he keep touring when he could have retired long ago?

Oh but “Yesterday” hit me pretty hard too.  That’s one of those songs that I know so well, is so familiar to me, that I feel right at home when I hear it.  Despite its melancholy nature, it makes me happy.  I couldn’t resist singing “Scrambled eggs…. Oh my baby how I love your legs” during one of the verses.

Ok, actually there were a lot of “OH MY GOD IT’S REALLY PAUL” moments.  Of course.  But other big ones for me were “Get Back” and “Maybe I’m Amazed.”  I was really glad he did “I’ve Just Seen a Face” as that’s one of my favorite songs.

What a fantastic experience it was to see one of the musicians who most shaped my musical education live, and I am so glad I got to share it with friends who feel the same and understand going to great lengths to see a 72-year-old man play songs he wrote fifty years ago.  It struck me that we are very fortunate to be the ages we are now. (Here is where my thoughts might get hard to follow but bear with me.)  While we may not have been around in the sixties to experience The Beatles’ rise to fame and all the changes—both musical and cultural—that surrounded it, our parents were young enough latch onto the band’s music then.  They then introduced us to The Beatles as children.  Their songs became more familiar than nursery rhymes, and we grew up to understand and appreciate their legacy.  Had we been 20 years older, our parents likely would have been too old in the sixties to become fans in the first place.  Had we been younger, our parents would have been born later and likely wouldn’t have grown up loving their music; what’s more, if we were too young we might have missed our own chance to see Paul or Ringo live!  It’s bad enough that I’ll never see George Harrison or John Lennon or all The Beatles together… but as I’ve said, I feel extraordinarily fortunate to have had the chance to see Ringo (twice), and now Sir Paul McCartney, who has written so many classic songs that I still find ones I haven’t heard before.

I don’t know if I’ll get to see Paul McCartney live again.  I really hope so.  But I am grateful for the chance to have seen him this once.  The only downside to all of this is that I doubt any of my future birthdays can top my 24^th.

Beatleweek Part 1: A Hard Day's Night on the Big Screen, 50 Years Later

"Hey, pardon me for asking but who's that little old man?"

The Beatles were some of the first music I listened to; I think I knew all the words to their first few albums before I could actually talk.  A Hard Day’s Night was a frequent choice for movie night in my house and I loved it long before I understood most of the jokes, like John pretending to snort Coca-Cola and Paul quoting Hamlet while wearing a sheet.  Now that I think about it, it’s a great movie for kids; virtually no plot, lots of slapstick, plenty of opportunities to laugh along with everyone even though you don’t know why it’s funny.

Though I’d watched the movie just two days before on DVD, seeing A Hard Day’s Night in the tiny theater at The Music Box was a whole new experience.  The room was filled with people of all ages, from tweens to the 60-year-old hippie who had seen the movie when it first premiered in 1964.  Maybe I was trying to see it through the eyes of my friend Amy, who came with me and hadn’t seen it before, or perhaps the size of the screen allowed me to pick up on things that I had never previously noticed (I try to pick out new details and  lines every time I watch it).  I’m not even talking about the four minutes of unreleased footage they added to the film, which was exciting to see.  Some things I noticed were Shake drawing a face on the wig form in the dressing room, and that Norm’s tie is really cool—skinny, with a kind of black lizard skin print.

What really hit me hard for the first time was their age.  I’ve been watching this movie since I was a toddler.  The Beatles were always this grand thing, these famous musicians that have become a sort of modern folklore.  But last night, watching the movie on Ringo’s 74^th birthday and anticipating my own 24^th birthday in a couple days, it struck me that I am as old as the eldest Beatle when they made the movie.  I think about where I am in my life, and where they were in theirs.  They were simultaneously professional adults and silly schoolboys.  They were serious about the music but didn’t take themselves or their fame too seriously, at least not yet.  They were just kids with their whole lives ahead of them, just before the onset of the 60s Counterculture and their travels to India and hallucinogens and Apple Records and creating really cool, weird, experimental music and leading social movements.  In fact, the movie started production just before The Beatles’ legendary performance on the Ed Sullivan Show, that brought Beatlemania stateside.  It was intensely bittersweet watching John and Ringo singing “If I Fell” side by side, knowing that today Ringo is currently on tour and making music while John was wastefully taken from us more than 30 years ago.  Watching Paul and George harmonize with the knowledge that I would be seeing Paul live and in person in less than 48 hours while my favorite Beatle, George, left us when I was too young to understand what the world had lost.  They had no idea what the future held and were just enjoying the moment.

But that’s just another reason to love A Hard Day’s Night.  It’s a sort of time capsule of the Beatles in those early years of the band, just as everything was changing for them.  Though the movie is scripted (loosely but expertly), I think it’s an authentic portrayal of this band known for their wittiness and sense of humor, almost as much as their musical talent.  Personally, I don’t think John was acting at all.

In summary: I saw my favorite movie, one I’ve seen countless times at home, on the silver screen for the first time.  In many ways I wish I had been alive in 1964 for the onset of Beatlemania, definitely one of the screaming girls in the audience.  But I will gladly accept seeing it now, in a little theater with the people that keep coming back to the movie and the band that mean so much to them fifty years later.

 Up next: "You say it's your birthday? It's my birthday too, yeah!" I see Paul McCartney live.

Eddie Izzard: Force Majeure

I meant to post this weeks ago, but I just started a new job and got distracted.  I'm sorry, dear readers.  I'm sorry, Eddie Izzard.  I'll do better.  Probably.  Maybe.  Anyway, here's Wonderwall.


7 June, 2014

Cake or death? Either way, you'll need a tray.

The incomparable Eddie Izzard made Chicago considerably funnier, cleverer, and generally more talented during his three-day residency at the gorgeous Chicago Theater from June 7th through 9th.  My dad bought a pair of tickets for us, because obviously this was not a show to be missed.  It was my first experience seeing Eddie Izzard live, and was well worth the wait.  I knew he'd make me laugh like no one else, but I wasn't sure what to expect.  Would he have an opening act?  Who would that be?  Would it be brand-new material or some old jokes?

As soon as the lights dimmed in the theater I knew at least one of my questions was answered.  The Bond music and dramatic laser-like lighting building up the audience's anticipation assured me that Mr. Izzard knew what we were all there for, and would not rely on the usual opener to warm up the crowd.  He didn't need one.

But then, Eddie Izzard has never been one to adhere to convention nor waste a moment of time. 

He brings his fans to tears of laughter discussing 13th-century English politics.  He speaks at least six languages, incorporating them into each act and actually translating entire shows.  In fact, his current tour will have taken him to 24 countries and all 50 U.S. states.  He openly identifies as a transvestite, and does full 2-hour shows in killer stilettos.  He ran 43 marathons in 51 days, and will now run for mayor of London in 2020.  And yet somehow I have trouble finding the time to do laundry.

"I was in Paris this morning," Izzard told us.  It wasn't the beginning of an "and boy are my arms tired!" joke.  No, he had actually flown to Normandy in the middle of his U.S. tour to do three charity shows--one in English, one in French, and one in German--on June 6th, the 70th anniversary of D-Day, and was back here in Chicago on June 7th. 

I get the feeling that his love of languages stems, in part, from his drive to bring the people of the world together, to show that we are really all the same.  His jokes have universal appeal: human sacrifice, Olympic horse dancing, and of course God and Darth Vader dueling over pasta.

Eddie Izzard on the origins of the English language

While his style is undeniably silly and Monty Python-esque, Izzard is sincere and firm in his beliefs.  He encourages thought and rationality and believes strongly in democracy.  He reminded us that every country has the ability to overcome its crazy sects to make the world a better place.  "Wisdom is a beautiful thing," he declared whilst discussing the absurdity of fascism, the Tea Party, and Margaret Thatcher.  "No extremist has ever had wisdom."

On the nonsensical thought process of fascists

You can tell he respects his audience.  He knows us--intelligent, open-minded, and silly--and he never talks down to us.  I had wondered if he would bring his multilingual skills into his American shows, or if he would omit it because we're not known to be as worldly as Europeans.  Happily, he did an entire bit completely in French, and by the end the theater was roaring as if it had been in English.  He even threw in some German and Arabic, for good measure.

It was a proper show, full of astounding energy (especially considering he spent the better part of the day traveling across the Atlantic) and excitement and showmanship.  It was long, just about 2 hours, divided by an intermission.  I guess I haven't been to a lot of live stand-up but I didn't expect it to be such a long set.  I was very happy it was though.

If you're familiar at all with Eddie Izzard's work, you probably have heard his bit about the Death Star's canteen, in which Darth Vader goes to get some lunch and struggles with wet food trays and an unimpressed worker who asks if he is Mr. Stevens, head of catering. 

I wasn't expecting him to rehash that bit, and hoped he wouldn't as it's a bit boring when comedians use old material.  But like I said, Izzard knows his audience and what we came for.  He didn't retell the story of the Death Star canteen; no, he gave us the sequel, eight years later! 

By the end of the night my voice was hoarse and my mascara was smudged from tears of laughter.  I felt very fortunate to have seen one of the best entertainers of our time, and grateful to my dad for getting the two of us tickets.  But more than anything, I left inspired.  This man uses intellect and wit to fight ignorance, he brings happiness to so many people, he is proud of who he is and what he stands for, and he says so in multiple languages; not quite fluently, but it doesn’t matter.  I can do all of these things as well; anyone can, he just went and did it.  A love of languages is something Eddie Izzard and I have in common, the only difference being that he actually goes out and learns them and speaks them and doesn't care if he messes up.  I have resolved to actively improve and maintain my fluency in Spanish, and I am going to sign up for French classes.  He’s given me a high-heeled kick in the pants to pursue my passions and be better person.

I Become a Devout Follower of St. Vincent

I'd like to be one of those people who is well-versed in every band, artist, musical genre, etc.  However, I will never be.  My tendency is to get really, really, REALLY into one artist, listen to them obsessively and almost exclusively for weeks, and then heavily from thereon out.   But up until recently, I was in a rut.  There were definitely some bands that I discovered that I really liked, that were on heavy rotation on my iPod, that I recommended to friends, but none that stopped me in my tracks.  It wasn't until last Saturday that I felt myself getting very excited about a single artist.

That would be Annie Clark, otherwise known as St. Vincent.  

I wasn't even sure that I liked St. Vincent when I initially heard of her when Strange Mercy came out.  Her music is so unique I probably couldn't fully process it right away.  But somewhere along the line I recognized its excellence.  It's mostly my friend Devinne's fault.  Annie Clark is her spirit animal.  She invited me and our friend Marianne to see St. Vincent and David Byrne of Talking Heads (Devinne's favorite band ever) at Ravinia last summer during their Love This Giant tour.  We were on the lawn, very far from the stage, but danced like we were in the front row.  I liked what I heard from the master of art-pop.  I was familiar with a couple St. Vincent songs but the Ravinia show peaked my interest.

Weeks ago, Devinne mentioned she was looking for someone to accompany her to see St. Vincent at the Riveria Theater.  I didn't bite right away but as I heard more of her new self-titled album, I decided I wanted to go.  Luckily the ticket was still available, so we made plans for a most superb Saturday.  In the mean time I began to study up on St. Vincent's discography, not becoming an expert but at least familiarizing myself with her work and noting some stand-outs like "Marrow" and the dreamy "Huey Newton."  All of St. Vincent's music is an exciting blend of poetic and graceful vocals, crunchy beats, Disney-esque instrumentals, distorted and intricate guitar, and electronic -- I don't even know.  It's bricks taken from different genres and eras and used to build something completely new and interesting and twisted and gorgeous.  She's also gifted with an ethereal voice and a marvelous range.

On the day of the show, Devinne and I headed to the Urban Outfitters on Diversey.  Not for shopping, but for something much, much better: meeting the incomparable Annie Clark.  From somewhere I'd received a notice that there would be a meet and greet at the store.  Upon arrival an hour early, we were surprised to find that there was no line.  In fact, I think we were the only people in the store for a while.  Eventually more fans trickled in and we queued up to wait and whisper excitedly.  Suddenly, she appeared looking impossibly chic in a geometric cape and black platform boots with a black scarf thrown over her wild white-gray hair.  She smiled and greeted us.  "Hi guys!"  Although Annie Clark is known for being very private and even secretive, she seemed very warm and friendly to us fans.  Maybe it's because it's part of her job, to be nice to fans, but I don't think that's it.  As she signed albums and posters, she chatted with each one of us.  After she asked how to spell my name for the autograph, I told her I loved her Portlandia cameos.  She said it was fun to do, and really hard not to laugh on set.  I explained that it was all Devinne's fault that I was a fan and going to the show that night.  Annie Clark looked at Devinne through her round red retro sunglasses: "I blame you."  When Devinne asked her to sign her Kindle cover, she asked what she was reading and seemed genuinely interested.   The music goddess was genuine, sweet, and seemingly mortal.

If I wasn't properly excited for the show before, I was now.

It is strange to think that the woman calmly signing autographs and chit-chatting is the same person that I saw on stage that night.  A killer android, a human sonic machine holding court in the Riviera Theater.  "She is the queen," Devinne stated, "and we are her subjects."  St. Vincent gave us a show of astonishing audiovisual art that set her apart from any music artist I have seen live.

Annie Clark is easily one of the best guitarists out there.  Her talent doesn't lie just in playing intricate riffs and melodies.  She pushes the guitar past its limits, having conquered it as a tool not for just music but for dramatic sound effects, looking all the while like she's not even trying.   In fact, everything she did looked effortless.  Of course, the opposite is true; St. Vincent (Annie Clark? When do I use which name?) is incredibly hardworking.  Every aspect was meticulously calculated choreography, down to every note played on her guitar.  She and her band and everyone behind the scenes must have put in a serious effort to turn a concert into a sci-fi avant-garde performance.

My photos cannot accurately capture the performance.
We had an awesome view though -- just too far for clear pictures.

The lighting designer in particular deserves an award.  Rapid color changes complemented the frenzy of songs like "Rattlesnake" and "Birth In Reverse" The shadows cast on the back wall created a spooky shadowplay looming over the stage.  Annie Clark's hair seemed to switch from pink to green to orange to blue with every new beam of light (maybe a factor in the decision to bleach it?). The strobe lights created scenes of stop-motion, turning the musicians into automatons.

Clark herself oscillated between machine and animal, one moment shifting back and forth like a mannequin on a conveyor belt, the next draped upon the steps, slowly sliding down one by one as if she were made of liquid.  When she stood atop her pink pyramid-throne proclaiming "I don't want to be a cheerleader no more," she seemed like a giant.  I can't imagine who could possibly be above her to cheer for, given that the crowd may as well have been genuflecting.

Every so often she would speak to the crowd about how she felt we had a lot in common.  How she believed we had all told a little lie once, how we felt ill the next day and wondered if it was punishment, how that, in order to right that wrong with the universe we built a symmetrical shrine out of tin foil and PBR cans and two neon Coors Light signs.  How she felt we had all had had an imaginary friend, an imaginary friend who we thought began to get too much attention, and how we had unceremoniously killed that imaginary friend.

Not only was the performance visually and sonically stunning, it was fun.  Really fun.  When I wasn't gaping at Annie Clark's brilliance, I was dancing and singing along.  I was pleased to discover that I recognized more songs than I'd expected.  Annie Clark also led the theater in a true-to-the-original cover of "Lithium" in remembrance of Kurt Cobain's death 20 years ago to the day.  That was the only cover, I think, but I could tell that working with David Byrne of Talking Heads had influenced her, or at least that they were on the same wavelength, performance-wise.  You could see hints of it in the robotic choreography, and "Digital Witness" definitely has a Talking Heads vibe to it.

I found myself wondering how Annie Clark, St. Vincent, could possibly be human.  How the person sitting at the autograph table chatting about books and television could, hours later, transport 2500 people to another fantastic reality.  But the most amazing thing is that she is human.  A human being, made of flesh and blood like everyone else, can create something so spectacular and otherworldly that it captivates us and transports us from reality.  St. Vincent, it seems to me, embodies art in its most thrilling, extraordinary form.

Tea and Cupcakes

This past weekend my good friend Devinne invited me to tea and cupcakes in Elmhurst, the western suburb of Chicago where I grew up.  It sounded like a lovely way to spend a Sunday.

Yesterday afternoon I boarded the Metra and, once it reached Elmhurst, I walked over to Elijah's coffee shop to meet Devinne.  It's her go-to coffee shop, and it's easy to see why.  It's warm and cozy, decorated with original artwork, and the baristas make great drinks.  The Elijah's we went to, located on First Street, is actually the second location, the first being on Vallette St. on the south side of the city.

Devinne ordered her usual pumpkin chai and I chose black raspberry green tea.  We very well could have stayed there, but we opted to seek out cupcakes.  Our quest led us to Courageous Bakery, a great, relatively new(ish) bakery which donates a portion of its proceeds to The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. I think it's fantastic that the owners are taking advantage of the cupcake trend to do something good, and I love that they don't stop there; judging by the cupcake I tried, they make sure customers keep returning with heavenly baked goods.  Not only do you feel good about helping a cause, your sweet tooth is satisfied!

Inside Courageous Bakery

Devinne and I both ordered the same Raspberry Lemon cupcake, which is a lemony cake and raspberry filling with whipped cream cheese frosting.  It was so moist and rich - though fluffy and light - that it was more like cheesecake than cake.  It also paired very well with my blackberry tea from Elijah's.

By the time I thought to take a picture, I'd already eaten half of it.

The shop itself is cheery, with sunny floor-to-ceiling windows and walls painted in bright green and orange.  The service was very friendly, and while Devinne and I chatted a man serenaded the shop with an acoustic guitar.  I tipped him, mostly for his seamless mash-up of "Sitting on the Dock of the Bay" and Radiohead's "Creep."

We would have stayed much longer but Courageous Bakery closes at 2:00 on Sundays.  I'd like to go back again, maybe for brunch to try their breakfast menu.  Though it would be hard to resist ordering another Lemon Raspberry cupcake.

Elijah's Coffee

111 E First St.

Elmhurst, IL 60126

(630) 833-2033

Courageous Bakery

108 W Park Ave.

Elmhurst, IL 60126

(630) 834-2253

Eataly

I don't generally spend much money on unnecessary things.  But when I'm going through my bank statement, wondering where my paycheck disappeared to, it's usually food.

A $40 top I'm likely to wear over and over seems like too much of a splurge. On the other hand, if I'm out to eat, my thought process goes something more like this:

"$28 for a delicious dinner and glass of wine? That's pretty reasonable. After all, we shared, so I really got to taste 2 different dishes. That's saving money, really."

"$3.50 for gelato is fine. It's so rich and delicious.  Totally deserve this."

"GAH I'm hungry and cranky and that overtime I just worked can totally pay for this pricelessly scrumptious crepe."

This might explain why I haven't bought new clothes in months.

Not that I go out to eat all that often.  I almost always make my own meals at home, eating the same thing all week until I just can't look at lentils anymore. So if I'm paying someone else to cook, it had better be a Food Experience.  Which brings me to Chicago's latest culinary excitement, Eataly.

"Life is too short not to eat well."

I first heard about Eataly just after it opened in Chicago, and I couldn't really figure out what it was at first.  Was it a restaurant? A store? A collection of stores?  Either way, I knew I had to check it out.  So, a couple weeks after its opening, I went to Eataly with my friends Megan and Amy for dinner.  I had assumed that, like all trendy and cool food places, it was tucked away somewhere in the West Loop in a converted warehouse, but somehow I missed the huge windowed building smack in the middle of River North, just off the Grand red line L stop.

Upon entering, we were greeted with adorable carts of citrus fruits, exotic mushrooms, and fresh vegetables, all nestled in baskets.  It looked like a little outdoor market, with a little European grocery store attached.  The place was packed (after all, it was a Friday night shortly after the opening) but we found our way through the masses of people to see the Nutella Bar, which is, in my opinion, the greatest bar in the city of Chicago.  The first floor is clearly dessert-focused, as next to the Nutella bar is the gelateria (gelato) and the pastry counter.  There's even the first of multiple espresso bars so you can get your caffeine fix for energy to traverse Eataly.  You might need it.

I didn't know half of these mushrooms existed.

 

The Nutella Bar.
These ladies don't know it, but they're my new best friends.

After weaving our way through foodstuffs and kitchen utensils and cookbooks, we headed upstairs to the restaurant area.  When we got to the top of the stairs, all three of us just kind of stood motionless except for our heads turning every which way, trying to make sense of what our senses were telling us.  There were endless bars and counters and signs and smells, and it was nearly impossible to figure out where to start.  We passed the bar selling delicately fried things like arancini (cheesy rice balls), a wine bar, a counter devoted to mozzarella and other cheeses, what looked like a full butcher shop, and a fresh seafood counter selling everything from salmon to huge octopus tentacles.  Sprinkled everywhere were high marble tables, most without seats, where people ate plates of charcuterie and sipped wine.  What really struck me is that there were no hidden kitchens that I could see.  You could watch all the food being prepared right in front of you, and even the walled-off bakery had wall-to-wall glass windows so you could watch the bakers at work.

Fried things.  Yes please.

Il sushio, as I believe it is called in Italian.

Raw Bar

Thankfully Amy had been to Eataly already and suggested we go for the sit-down pizza/pasta restaurant section, really just a roped-off collection of tables in between the pizza and pasta kitchens.  We put our name in, and a phone number so the hostess could text us when our table was ready, allowing us to wander freely.  Great idea, right?  Every restaurant should do that.  We intensified our already-present hunger by perusing the packaged pastas, bottles of olive oils that looked like fine wines, actual bottles of fine wines, and even fancy Italian soaps and beauty supplies.  There were walls of pesto and pasta sauces, a tempting cheese section with cheeses I had never heard of before (and I love cheese) and cured Italian meats, and a little bookshop with titles like The Geometry of Pasta.  Which would make a completely suitable gift idea for someone such as myself.

Come to me, my love.

Pasta and shapes.  Two of my favorite things.

Finally our table was ready.  Upon it were hunks of fresh crusty bread wrapped in brown paper, and olive oil for dipping.  We ordered a glass of wine each and looked over the menu.  We decided to split two dishes between the three of us and chose the Mianese pizza with prosciutto and arugula and the ravioli with ricotta, pistachios, and a lemony sauce.  Both were absolutely delicious and we finished every crumb.  There was definitely room for dessert though.

Amy and Megan, shortly before we devoured that prosciutto pizza.

Before we descended back to the first floor, we looked around some more at the groceries and Amy bought some beer from the Birreria, which sells an impressive variety of foreign and American craft beers like Half Acre.  You can even get some of them on tap at the bar.

We ended the evening with some excellent gelato.  There were lots of excellent-sounding flavors, and even soft-serve gelato, which is apparently a thing.  I ordered a cone of tiramisu to complete the Italian theme.

Two days later...

The following Sunday I made another stop. I was famished after staying at work longer than expected, and in my hungry/annoyed state I decided that I deserved a treat. This time it was a piping hot crepe from the Nutella bar. Once the woman manning the crepe station finished it she let it sit on a plate for a few minutes, which confused me at first: Why isn't she giving me my crepe???  Once she did I understood that otherwise I would have burned my mouth in my desperate quest for chocolate-hazelnut goodness.

I meandered around the second story finishing my crepe.  Though it was pretty satisfying I couldn't help but to be drawn to the focaccia counter.  I ordered a square of the $2 classic focaccia, which was warm and soft, seasoned simply and divinely with olive oil, sea salt, and rosemary.  My brain was yelling in all caps about how delicious it was, but my mouth was too full to speak.  The best part about Eataly's focaccia is that at less than $4 for even the varieties with toppings, it's easily the most affordable way to satisfy your hunger and taste buds.

Hey there beautiful, how you doin'?

Needless to say, I will be returning to Eataly. There's so much to try. It's definitely not an everyday lunch place if you're on a tight budget, but for a once-in-a-while treat it's an excellent option.

Sushi Quest

I love sushi.  I'd have to say it's my favorite food, and I would eat it every day if the fresh stuff wasn't so crazy expensive.  But when I am able (i.e. when my mom is paying) I try to find new, great sushi restaurants.  In Elmhurst, where I grew up, there's an excellent place called Sushi Nest.  They have fresh ingredients, to-die-for rolls (try the Red Dragon), and friendly staff, and the dim lighting and soft piano jazz playing in the background make it perfect for unwinding and digging into raw fish.  It's my go-to, but because I live in the city now I've started searching for sushi closer to home.

Kamehachi

1531 N Wells St.
Chicago, IL 60611

Kamehachi in Old Town is fantastic.  We had a wonderful waiter who helped us choose some rolls, and they were delicious.  To be honest I don't really remember what they were because what stuck with me was the rock shrimp tempura--soft juicy shrimp delicately fried and covered in a heavenly sweet and spicy sauce--and the hachi ceviche, which added cashew, plaintain chips, basil, and wasabi to the traditional whitefish. Yum.  Ambiance-wise it's a bit trendy and contemporary, which I do like, but it's not a very traditional sushi-restaurant atmosphere.  It's a big restaurant and lacks the cozy feel of other places I've been.  It's well suited to a younger crowd, for a night out with friends.

Tanoshii

5547 N Clark St.

Chicago, IL 60640

Tanoshii on Check, Please! 

Recently my mom paid me a somewhat spontaneous visit, so we went to try a new place, Tanoshii in Andersonville.  We had tried to go there the night we ended up at Kamehachi, but for some reason or another we didn't.  It was well worth the wait.  Tanoshii was on Check, Please!, the PBS show where regular people review Chicago-area restaurants, and I can't imagine that anyone had anything bad to say about this place.  Tanoshii means "happy/pleasurable/delightful" and it is aptly named.  It was probably the best sushi experience I've had.  

First, we accidentally arrived about 20 minutes before they opened at 4, but they sat us anyway and one of the chefs chatted with us.  We looked over the menu but were indecisive, and he suggested the Sushi Mike special: the chef (Sushi Mike wasn't in yet but our guy was extremely capable) would ask us what we liked and didn't like, and he would make up custom dishes suited to our tastes.  This is the best possible thing to propose because a) customized sushi!!! and b) no deciding between all the delicious menu items!  We told him we liked tuna, salmon, avocado, cucumber, and tempura.  My mom told him nothing spicy and no mayonnaise, which I generally agree with.  Though when he asked me "But you're good with anything, right?" I didn't think and nodded my head (I don't love spicy either).  But it worked out alright.

Our first course was tuna sashimi dressed in truffle honey, rosemary, and chives and lightly caramelized with a blow torch. Holy Bluefin, it was amazing!  I would have never put those flavors together but they worked together flawlessly.  The chef continued to feed us a steady stream of rolls: salmon and avocado with chili sauce, a crab/shrimp tempura roll topped with avocado, tuna with cucumber, and more decadence than I can describe.  "Do you want one more?" Absolutely.  Everything came with some sort of sauce that eliminated the need for soy sauce, all with unconventional flavors that I've never had with sushi.  Aside from the food, Tanoshii's service was amazing, from the friendly host who sat us before they opened to the expert sushi chef.  It was personal and everyone chatted with us and made us feel welcome.  Maybe it would have been different if we weren't the only customers there (only three other people had come by the time we left) but as it was, it was a great experience.  The bill was more than the typical sushi bill but for what we got, we agreed it was well worth it.  Oh, and if you're looking for drinks, it's BYOB.  We were so focused on the food we didn't even think about that and just stuck to water.  

I'm looking forward to revisiting Tanoshii.  I think next time I'll tell the chef that I like yellowfin and eel and see what he comes up with.

Friday Marling Surprise

This past Friday I was incredibly lucky to see Laura Marling perform in the very intimate setting of 93XRT's new studio stage.  It was a bit of a surprise and everything happened quite quickly.  I was closer to her than I've ever been, so close that I could clear up lyrical questions by watching her lips.

I saw Laura Marling for the fourth time back in May of this year.  I didn't expect to see her for some time; possibly not until after she released another album.  She's been touring almost non-stop, mostly solo, for months around the US and the UK.  I was envious my friend Hannah who has been able to see Laura at several very very cool “Secret Cinema” shows in London, where she’s spent the last year.  I knew Laura was going to stop in Milwaukee, but lacking transportation and extra money to see her (on a weeknight, no less), I didn't even consider going.

Last Thursday, however, the day she'd perform in Milwaukee, I happened to go to 93XRT's website, looking to see if there were any ticket giveaways to enter.  On the home page, gazing back at me, was a picture of the woman herself, with text underneath that read "Win tickets to see Laura Marling on the XRT Blue Cross Blue Shield Stage on August 16."  August 16 being that coming Friday, i.e. TOMORROW.  I immediately entered, just once – the limit (and I swear they know if you use multiple emails to enter), and began fervently hoping to get an email telling me I won.

The next day I obsessively checked my email, jumping when I saw my unread had jumped up 1.  But that email never came.  I hadn't quite give up yet; each winner gets 2 passes, and I knew from personal experience that you can't always find a friend to attend a show in the middle of the afternoon.  I began posting anywhere I could, tweeting to XRT and Laura Marling's twitter pages asking if anyone needed a +1.  I posted on XRT's and Laura Marling's Facebook pages as well.  I didn't seem to be getting any responses but I kept checking my social media compulsively.  

I was disappointed to see that a notification was just a friend request from someone I didn't know who seemed to be from England.  I deleted the request (I get random requests from sketchy strangers all the time) but then she requested me again.  I messaged her asking why she requested me and her reply was better than I could have expected.

She had won two tickets, but had no way of getting downtown.  I would have been devastated in her situation.  This woman I’d never met offered to change her name on the list to mine.  I couldn’t quite believe it; I had at that point accepted I wouldn’t be seeing Laura that day.  I thanked my new friend profusely and in all caps.  I was touched that she would do that for me, though I know I’d do the same if I had unusable free tickets.  The doors were at 5 pm, so I asked my boss if it would be alright if I left a bit early.  He told me yes and to enjoy the show. 

I should mention at this point that I have a cold and that yesterday was the beginning of it; my heart rate was elevated and I was a bit out of it.  So this, coupled with my Laura Marling-induced emotions (nervous, anxious, disappointed, elated, and excited, in quick succession), made my head a bit of a mess for the rest of the day.  But I persevered and made it through the rest of the day with (hopefully) no serious errors in my work, and practically skipped out of the office at 4:20.

I met with XRT staff at the Prudential Building’s reception desk, where I received a lanyard with a VIP pass with “LAURA MARLING” printed on it.  I was led to the 9^th floor and into a room with a few rows of chairs facing a small stage.  I chose a seat in the front row, about six feet from the stool and microphone stand set up on the stage.  After what seemed hours (it was about 30 minutes), XRT DJ Marty Lennartz walked on the stage to introduce the woman we were all there to see, who had evidently made a last-minute decision to stop by XRT during her day off in between Milwaukee and Ann Arbor.  He announced her name, and the demure 23-year-old/musical goddess took the stage.

The room was silent except for the sound of her guitar strumming the opening notes of “Hope In The Air.”  Through my awe I laughed to myself; at her last Chicago show Laura played this song but forgot some of the lyrics, so maybe she was trying to redeem herself.  And that she did; it was flawless and lovely.  She followed it with “Rambling Man,” one of my favorite songs of hers, of anyone, really.  Maybe it’s because I was so close to her, but I had never heard nor seen that song performed with so much emotion.  I can’t say for sure but she looked like she nearly teared up at one point.  Beautiful.

I watched the fingers that wrote these brilliant songs deftly pick the strings and press the frets as if it were the most natural thing in the world to her.  Considering she’s been playing since she was 5 years old, maybe it is.  Her last three songs were from Once I Was An Eagle: “Once”, “Where Can I Go?”, and to finish up the set as perfectly as it does the album, “Saved These Words.”  When she had played the last note she thanked the crowd, got up, and left the stage.  Not one to linger for small talk, Ms. Marling.

It was absolutely surreal to see her in such an intimate setting.  I feel incredibly lucky to have had the opportunity to experience my favorite (I think I’ve decided she’s my favorite) artist so close, to live in a city where these things are possible, and to have had a complete stranger make my day.  Thank you, Lucy!

Chicago is... Lollapalooza (Day 3, which pretty much blew the previous two out of the water)

It was Day 3 of Lollapalooza.  I had some sunburn to show for the last two days, a few blisters, and I hadn’t seen a vegetable in days.  But was I tired?  Was I ready to give up? NO! Lollapalooza had saved the best day for last.  I was about to see Palma Violets, Two Door Cinema Club, Vampire Weekend, and my favorite French pop stars, Phoenix, in rapid succession.  And after that, the Alt-J aftershow at Lincoln Hall. The forecast was sunny and 75 degrees, weather completely unheard of for the weekend that was usually, as my roommate Megan put it, I’m-gonna-kill-you hot.  I slipped on a bold sundress and my shiny leopard-print converse and covered myself in sunscreen, ready to finish off the weekend in style.

Lizzy and I made straight for the north main “Bud Light” stage for Palma Violets.  I’d never seen them before or even really listened to them much, but everyone I know with good music taste raves about them so I was down.  We scored a primo spot on the right side of the barrier that runs through the crowd to the sound booth.  

PRO TIP:  This is the best place you can be, even if you’re farther back.  It’s a clear line right to the stage with no one standing directly in front of you (I’m relatively short so this is always a problem for me).  Plus, you have something to lean on during the wait between shows and some personal space.  Also the artists often run down the pathway next to the barrier so you might get to see them up close.  To sum up: the middle barrier is your best friend.  If you secure a spot there you’re set for the day.

Anyway, back to the music.  Palma Violets put on an outstanding old-fashioned punk rock show.  They opened with a cover of “California Sun” which got the 1:00 p.m. crowd dancing immediately and the dancing pretty much continued to the end of the set.  At one point the band abandoned all instruments besides drums and a guitar, leaving the rest of the members free to jump and dance about the stage with wild abandon.  Though lately I’ve been more into folky or electronic music, I’ve marked them down as the next band to listen to obsessively.

Palma Violets at Glastonbury earlier this year (they're better at streaming than Lolla)

But here's what I saw!

Aaaand into the crowd!

Aware that I’d be on my feet until at least 2 am, I left the main stage right after Palma Violets to find somewhere to save my strength.  I quickly checked my Lollapalooza mobile app to see who was playing on the smaller stages and found Nightmare & the Cat playing at BMI (BMI wins again!).  I sat on the stairs near the stage and watched the young LA band perform.  I liked them.  Here’s a song:

Nightmare & the Cat at the BMI stage

Once they finished I went to grab some sustenance for myself and Lizzy.  She asked me to get her a lobster corndog from Grahamwich (I tasted it – amazing!) and I bought myself some truffle parmesan fries from Edzo’s.  I tried to save them to eat throughout the day but I ate most of them while I watched the end of Alex Clare’s set.  He’s the guy who sings “Too Close,” that song you’ve probably heard everywhere.  Knowing nothing about him besides that song, I was surprised to see that he was a stocky ginger bearded man in a denim shirt.  I’d expect to see him in a quiet folk band, not belting out mighty soulful electronica.  Appearances can be deceiving I guess!  I’m not sure I’ll become his biggest fan but he has a fantastic voice and the crowd was enthusiastically singing along to all his songs, not just the single. 

I managed to get back to Lizzy at our barrier spot, and we sat and ate while we waited for Two Door Cinema Club.  I’ve been listening to Two Door pretty steadily for the last two years.  Their music is irresistibly fun, with bouncy and bright guitar riffs and quick beats you can’t help but dance crazily to.  Oh, and they’re all just 23 years old, same as me.  The last time Lizzy was here for Lolla we got into their after-show despite not previously having purchased tickets, spent the show alternately watching the band and chatting with Hannah Hooper of Grouplove, who had opened.  After that show we met the band outside and spent about 15 minutes just talking to Sam Halliday, Two Door’s guitarist.   

But back to Sunday’s show.  Alex Trimble, lead singer, walked onto the stage as easily the most dapper performer I’d seen all weekend, in a pressed black suit and crisp tie.  They opened with “Sleep Alone,” the bouncy first single from Beacon. The band’s fast, beat-driven songs kept the crowd dancing and singing for the full hour they played.  Alex Trimble’s voice sounded as pure as ever (it’s just sooo nice on the ears) and Sam and Kevin were in top form.  I wouldn’t be surprised if they were moved up a slot by their next Lolla.

See what I mean about the middle barrier? GREAT VIEW.

How debonair!

When Two Door ended Lizzy made a bee line to the autograph tent to meet them.  I stayed at our primo spot for Vampire Weekend, who I hadn’t seen since my first Lollapalooza in 2009.  I chatted to the guy next to me who had driven up from Florida for the festival.  We talked about bands (the main subject of Lollapalooza conversations with strangers), and though our taste definitely differed, we were both crazy excited for Vampire Weekend.  We watched as the crew set up the stage with an immense floral-print background, giant mirror, and floating Corinthian columns which somehow managed to reflect the band's cheeky style of music.

When Ezra, Rostam, Chris, and Chris took the stage and launched into "Cousins", the frenzy began and only escalated to madness when they played "Diane Young" as their fourth song of the day.  Ezra Koenig, simultaneously silly and deadpan, is a fantastic frontman and the rest of the band was just as into it.  They surprised the crowd with their early, not-on-an-album "Ladies Of Cambridge" and it seemed like over half the crowd knew every word.  It was just really a great show and I'm having trouble describing it as I was bouncing and singing and deliriously happy the whole time.

GRR WE ARE VAMPIRES

My choice for Best Moment of Lollapalooza came during their set.  It wasn't even the band's doing.  During "Giving Up The Gun" (elated they played it as it's one of my favorites) a shirtless guy ran onstage behind the band.  For a moment I thought maybe it was another Lolla artist come to collaborate on the song.  This thought was immediately dismissed once I saw a security guard RUN AND TACKLE HIM TO THE GROUND, SUPER BOWL-STYLE.  I really have never seen anything like it.  It was like a movie or an SNL sketch.  The band didn't realize what had happened til he was down and continued to play the song with wide-eyed, bewildered faces.  Thank god someone got it on video:

EPIC.

The sun was beginning to set on the last day of Lollapalooza, but the best was yet to come.  Phoenix.  My favorite French pop maestros finally put out their fifth album this year, Bankrupt!, and I hadn't seen them live for three long years.  Phoenix is one of those bands that are just incredibly good at what they do.  They're creative and fresh and ever-evolving, leaving the best artists of the moment in their wake.  Phoenix has something for everyone: shimmering guitars, catchy hooks, earth-shaking bass, clever and mysterious lyrics, you name it.  Their latest album especially hints at their friendship with Daft Punk.  Having seen them before (so close I could see up Thomas Mars' nose, actually) I knew I was in for a great show, but I had no idea.

The show began with the big screens live broadcasting the band arriving at the stage piled onto a golf cart, ascending the stairs and walking onto the stage.  Everyone went wild.  They knew exactly what the crowd wanted, starting the set with "Entertainment" from the new album and then wasting no time playing "Listomania" from the huge 2009 Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix.  You would have never guessed that the audience had spent the past three days jumping about in the sun nonstop, such was the energy.  Each song flowed perfectly into the next, as if they were all written together.  Phoenix even did two live mashups on stage.  It was impossible to tell when "Trying To Be Cool" seamlessly transitioned to "Drakkar Noir" which in turn became "Chloroform"; I was dazzled by the bass and the lights and Thomas Mars's lilting vocals.  The band kept this up as they began "Love Like A Sunset", the instrumental number from WAF.  I was thinking that it was odd they'd choose that one instead of the instrumental from their latest album, when all of the sudden they were playing "Bankrupt!"  It was such a perfect segue... and then they did it AGAIN, back into "Love Like A Sunset", ending with brothers Christian and Branco performing their signature guitar duet.  Pros.  Absolute pros.

The palace at Versailles, their home town

"Love Like A Sunset": Super talented siblings

Thomas Mars descended from the stage to get up close and personal with the crowd for "1901", something I'm pretty sure he does at every show.  But I became fully convinced of his insanity and brilliance when he ran past me down the middle barrier, into the thick of the crowd and CROWDSURFED THE WHOLE CROWD during "Rome".  I'm not sure if it was lunacy or bravery or both that led him to do this, to trust thousands of hands to lift him up, to safely transport him back to the stage in the midst of their music-induced fervor.  But he did it.  As he neared the edge of the crowd, the riff from "Entertainment" brought the show full circle.  It was over.  My head buzzed from the mind-blowing sound, drunk on the dazzling performance I'd just witnessed.

Getting cozy with the crowd in "1901"

ROME ROME ROME ROME ROME ROME ROME ROME ROME
(a.k.a. THOMAS MARS YOU CRAZY MAN YOU)

Watch Phoenix's full Lollapalooza set here.

Unbelievably, the night was not yet over.  Lizzy, my cousin Lindsey, Anna, and I had tickets for the Alt-J after show.  I was still processing Phoenix when we arrived at Lincoln Hall, my favorite venue for its intimate size and excellent shows.  Guards, the opening band, was in the middle of their set and I really enjoyed the few songs I saw.  Around midnight Alt-J began.  I have yet to find a comparison to Alt-J.... their blend of poetic lyrics with a mix of electronic and acoustic instrumentation, and smattering of folk influences (they quote Johnny Flynn in "Matilda") makes them hard to pin down.  I always feel incredibly cool listening to them.  The mellow music soothed my mind while the beats drowned out the aching of my feet and everyone danced.  They closed their set with my favorite song of theirs, "Taro," written for Gerda Taro, the female photographer on the front lines of the Spanish Civil War.

"Tessellate" -- Triangles are my favorite shape too.

Alt-J was the perfect cool-down from the marathon of the weekend.  I fell into bed that night, ears ringing and music in my head.  Until next year, Lollapalooza... maybe I'll add Bonnaroo in 2014??

**My Lolla 2013 playlist:

Lollapalooza 2013 from kc_dilla on 8tracks Radio.