In celebration of all things Chicago (great music, great food, great town) and also of the anniversary of the birth of our Margaret (great music, great food, great town), Team TSS headed up to Chicago for a show at The Empty Bottle.
"Hello, Empty Bottle? Yeah, I'm going to need you to double it."We arrived with plenty of time to visit Earwax, a place with TREMENDOUS WAFFLES. On our way back we saw that there was already a line outside the venue:
We tried to work out the math regarding how many of them it would actually take to carry a piece of paper currency to pay the cover, and how cute and tiny it would be if they had their own.Being my first time at the Empty Bottle, I was pleasantly surprised to find it attached to a vegan eatery, which definitely came in handy later. I was also pleasantly surprised at the pleasantly surprising beer selection, and also at the sweet, sweet picture of "Tory Anus" in the dressing room:
The night of music started with an amazingly rocking set by a fantasy drum-synth outfit by the name of M. Sord, who amazed the pants off of people.
Next, we put our pants back on and fired off a tidy set of TSS hits. "Take that, Chicago!" said we. The sound was really good that night, it's amazing when you walk into a venue and there's a real sound system and a soundperson who knows what they're doing. Way to go, them.
The night was also the CD release for local faves All City Affairs, who are also labelmates with our pals The Pomegranates. All City Affairs was completely awesome and they were like musical bread and butter with us Seeds.
That kind of made me hungry.
We realized all too soon that our fun would have to end shortly, as we had to head back to Cincy in the same evening; a few of us had local promises to keep, and miles to go before sleep. Margaret trucked the Bavanarama like a...trucker... back to Cincy, being careful to avoid any wandering senior citizens:
Hats go off to Margaret, who had to drive home at 2am on her birthday, because I was too tired to not wreck us into a tree.
Brian is 40.
M. Sord doesn't just rock the house, he punches it in the neck and takes its lunch money.
All City Affairs, FREAKIN WAILING.—Mike
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