Minor Moon’s album release show for their recently released fourth album The Light Up Waltz at Lincoln Hall on Friday was nothing short of a musical eclipse. I hate comparing it to that because it felt ten times rarer and conversely shined brighter than a million moons but alas, these are the times we live in. This may seem like hyperbole and any friend of mine would know I’ve said this phrase a dozen times before but Minor Moon’s set at their release show was undoubtedly the most special and awe-inspiring expression of performance art I’ve ever seen with my own two eyes especially considering the tragic circumstances that prefaced Minor Moon’s incredible set. The two acts before them, Chicago’s own Moontype and Macie Stewart were also incredible and even unexpected in a variety of ways that I’ll get into later, but you’ll be hard-pressed to experience a performance like the one Minor Moon put on last Friday night in a lifetime of concerts.
My favorite kind of band discoveries these days are Chicago bands and I made a doozy of a find Friday night with Moontype, songwriter Margaret McCarthy’s dreamy musical wonderland of emotional distortion. I haven’t been so pleasantly surprised by the set of a band I never heard before for quite some time. Each song felt like a little indie rock journey from point A to the point of no return through chaotic riffage a-plenty propped up against some incredibly impressive drumming that at points felt like excerpts from a '70s prog rock song. Their sound felt warm and cozy nestled in between the brooding electrified musings of a Lucy Dacus and the soft supple gaze of a Beach House. I’ve spent much of my time post-show listening to Moontype’s singular studio record Bodies of Water released in 2021 and the only song I can recall them playing from that record Friday night was “3 Weeks” and that might just be because it was my favorite off their set and my favorite off their debut record. Compared to their album sound, live they played much more in line with Minor Moon’s brand of elevated country rock but in a dreamy, Souvlaki-era Slowdive sorta way. I’m shocked every time I go back to the album by how amazing so many of the songs are compared to how well-known the band is. I’m calling it now, Moontype is going somewhere and going somewhere soon. It’s time to break open that 20-year-old novelty piggy bank you still fill with loose change and invest.
Macie Stewart followed up with an electrifying set of experimental folk that was as relaxing and hypnotizing as a cold babbling stream flowing through rocks within a forest cacophony. For the first several minutes of their performance, I thought it was going to be all instrumental as they started out looping a violin with V.V. Lightbody providing a gentle flute accompaniment. Vocals did eventually ensue and they were lush, beautiful, and haunting all nestled together with a pretty little ribbon. I wasn’t paying much attention to when a song ended and another one began because their set flowed so seamlessly from one song to the next that it almost all felt like one singular musical thought. The atmosphere built up through Macie’s guitar and violin and Lightbody’s gorgeous flute and backing vocal melodies were already enough to establish a wonderful soundscape but Macie’s immaculate vocal vibrato completed the set with her immense power and stamina.
So, now that we are getting into the real meat of the review, let me set the scene for you. A minute or two before Sam Cantor and Minor Moon graced the stage, what I can only assume was toxic sewer water started slowly flooding the standing room. As the band walked on stage, the audience informed them that maybe their performance would have to wait just a second for Lincoln Hall staff to figure out exactly how to rectify the situation. Within a few short minutes, we all knew disaster struck as it was announced that the show was canceled at this point and to exit the standing room so they could start the long clean-up.
However, after a freak Michael Shannon sighting on the way through the doors and into the bar, I saw much to my delight that the show was not over yet; in fact, it was just getting started. Both singer Sam and drummer Sam were setting up right in front of the bar for a completely unplugged performance. They brought out a single snare drum, one guitar, and no microphone so respectful quiet by the audience was paramount. It felt like hardly any time had passed from the first sighting of water seeping through the floor drains to everyone in attendance crammed into the very inadequately-sized-for-a-concert bar area watching in excitement and disbelief as Cantor began plucking the first notes to “Cracking Glass,” the first song off Minor Moon’s fourth studio album The Light Up Waltz. It was so magical hearing such an already sparse and hushed song played even more quietly to a room full of the band’s family and friends all seemingly knowing the words even though the album came out only a week earlier.
I was standing next to Sam’s parents as their spontaneous bar set drudged ever onward and seeing them tear up with all the overwhelming emotions of the night made me well up a few times myself. After all, their son and his band were playing a collection of songs that took years upon years to craft into utter and complete excellence all the while one hundred or so audience members sang all the words right back to them reassuring all of them that despite the disastrous circumstances surrounding their impromptu bar performance, they are a beloved Chicago band who released a damn near perfect album that we all paid to hear played in full; although, we’d stick around and watch the band play Hello Kitty toy guitars and drums if it meant we’d get to hear those beautifully vivacious songs live.
After about four songs, the entirety of the Minor Moon live band was surrounding the bar of Lincoln Hall, microphones hot and humming, guitar and bass amps resting atop the bar counter like giant monoliths. They even managed to fit bongos, saxophones, violins, and a pedal steel in their tiny makeshift ground-level stage; all in all, it was a truly magical sight to behold everyone pulling out all the stops to support Sam and his band on their special night. Looking around the room, I could even spot several prominent Chicago indie rock institutions like Half Gringa and Elizabeth Moen, who actually ended up doing some background vocals on several songs!
The complete brilliance and enchantment of the evening didn’t fully hit me until they got to “The Light Up Waltz” portion of the tracklisting. I’m not entirely sure if it came soon after or right before a story Sam Cantor told about some nightmare car troubles the band experienced a day earlier while playing a show in Wisconsin. I’m choosing to remember it being told before as it really enhanced the full majesty of the song’s performance with all the added context of what the band had been going through even before their big hometown album release show was canceled right as they were walking on stage to perform their biggest headline show yet. Not only is the song my favorite from the new album and objectively the most beautiful piece of music Minor Moon has ever written but Macie Stewart came barreling in with a healthy sprinkling of violin in addition to an unnamed assailant providing some lush saxophone.
I could go through every song in the set just like I did when I reviewed the album itself, but we’d be here forever as every performance was incredibly special and beautiful in its own way. “Since the Water Rose” and “Miriam Underwater” provided some fun, more upbeat grooves along with V.V. Lightbody stepping in for some secondary vocals while “Spend Your Gift Well” gave us a hilarious story of Sam wanting to turn into a dog for his birthday as the main inspiration for the song. The album set finished with a wondrous rendition of “Crumbling Stars” with the most gorgeous saxophone you’ve ever heard but what full-album playthrough crammed around Lincoln Hall’s bar front while toxic sewage water floods the standing room would be complete without an encore!
After giving a truly heartfelt speech regarding the circumstances of his band’s performance, Sam Cantor announced their encore would be a single Gillian Welch song entitled “Revelator” as opposed to the more illustrious encore he had planned if they had an actual stage. I must say, a five-song encore sounds pretty tempting, especially considering we didn’t get to hear any songs off their legendary 2021 album Tethers, but you’ll be hard-pressed to find a better singer/songwriter on the face of this planet, living or dead, than Gillian Welch so I certainly didn’t mind getting to hear a song by a woman who has written some of my favorite folk songs of all time like “Wayside/Back In Time” and “Look At Miss Ohio”. The cover was an absolute triumph with members from all opening acts pitching in to make the song the ultimate send-off for Minor Moon’s once-in-a-lifetime album release show. What truly made the performance for me, however, was the amount of crowd participation singing back every single lyric almost as if Gillian Welch was everyone’s favorite artist and “Revelator” was everyone’s first dance song at their weddings.
As the band reached the final notes of “Revelator”, I took a second to truly try and wrap my head around everything that had transpired that evening. The entire night was truly unlike anything I’ve ever experienced in person and whether or not it will go down as my favorite concert will only be told by time, but at the very least, it has got to be the most unique concert experience I’ve ever laid witness to. On a final note, I apologize if this concert review is overly hyperbolic and exaggerated. It may not sound like much with it just being text on a digital screen but what started as a last-ditch effort turned into a rare public demonstration of the power of music and how it can bring those you love, complete strangers, and everyone else in between together no matter what stage you’re performing on. Also, for the sake of future Lincoln Hall guests and performance artists, I really hope they cleaned their floors well, or else we’re all in for a world of hurt come the next show.
All photos by Lorenzo Zenitsky.