No One Got Hurt: Bloodshot's 15th Anniversary @ The Hideout Block Party
THIS IS A LIMITED-EDITION RELEASE - NOT WIDELY AVAILABLE IN STORES
A sonic scrapbook of that day, representing all the performers in the order they performed. 19 tracks and almost 70 minutes of highly polished and professional musicianship (ahem), mixed into the red, sho'nuff.
On September 12th, 2009, one of those improbably nice late summer days Chicagoans hold onto as a comfort memory during the lengthy winter bleakness, the Hideout Block Party hosted Bloodshot Records' 15th Anniversary celebration. Food, beer, belt sander races, kids activity area, a drunken spelling bee. And music. We soaked in the day with loads of old friends, allies, associates and fans from at least 28 states and 4 countries. No tents or port-a-johns caught fire or tipped over, no belt sanders flew into the gathered throngs; there were no lost children, knife fights, fist fights, food fights, thunderstorms, snowstorms, shitstorms or beer shortages (despite the audience's best efforts); the stage didn't collapse, the sound system didn't rebel, the bands all showed up and hit the stage at more or less the right times and played the way we love.
This album is a sonic scrapbook of that day, representing all the performers in the order they performed. 19 tracks and almost 70 minutes of highly polished and professional musicianship (ahem), mixed into the red, sho'nuff. It is a chance for people to revel in the memories or pretend they were there.
The live setting always provides for unexpected surprises and smiles, and going through the recordings allowed us to enjoy the music without worrying about the 657 things we had to worry about that day. The Sanctified Grumblerscatching the roadhouse vibe of Tuesday nights at the Hideout; Jon Langford and Sally Timms, heroes who have become friends—we wish we had board recordings of all their shows over the years—it'd make one hell of a comedy record; the reunited Blacks' jarring reminder of what an original and volatile band they were; the buoyant Moonshine Willy set, taking us back to Bloodshot's Ground Zero days, eating Hot Nuts at the Crash Palace/Delilah's; Bobby Bare Jr, the bubbly, demented entertainer incapable of playing a song the same way twice; The Scotland Yard Gospel Choir's charming and wiry post-punk guitar freakouts; Scott H. Biram, whom we fear and love deeply, getting the loudest cheer of the day at the end of his unhinged set; the perfect fit of the Deadstring Brothers' stonesy vibe at sunset; Alejandro Escovedo being Alejandro, a genre unto himself, giving us chills with memories of years of shows at clubs from the Old Town School to Fitzgerald's to Schubas, and the Waco Brothers closing it down as only they can--overheard were some band dudes half the Wacos' age saying admiringly "We have a lot to learn." And the whole thing held together by the Hideout's showman/shaman/MC extraordinaire Tim Tuten.
The Hideout has been like our clubhouse over the years, and that day it had over 4000 members.
And no one got hurt.