This event is General Admission Standing Room Only on the Floor, and Reserved Seated in the Balcony.

MURDER BY DEATH

This band has always been a jumble of contradictions. On the one hand, we've had a long-running career where we got to make art for a living. But on the other hand, we have always eluded any kind of traditional success. 

We weren't covered much in the press, we never had a song that had a lot of radio play, nothing ever went viral, we didn't have a big social media presence, we never played a good festival spot where there was a sea of people in the audience, not once opened an arena or even a big shell auditorium show or tour. We constantly lost opportunities because of the band name and were somehow always treated like nobodies or yesterday's news by most of the industry. But you, you gosh dang wonderful audience, managed to keep us growing,  and we never had a career slump. 

When we were our busiest — playing over 200 shows a year — we were chronically underpaid and always barely scraping by. But people kept writing to us or telling us how much we mattered and kept showing up, and we started to believe it a little. And then over the years, we grew to a more manageable place and it seemed possible to carve out a niche in this massive, mean world of entertainment.

When I reflect on how good our career was and how lucky we were, I'm left with just gratitude for the small team of folks who have worked with the band and this grassroots fan following that has lifted us up the entire time. I feel like we owe any and all our success to you. 

I never called us DIY — despite taking on much of the work ourselves — because there are always people behind the scenes helping: it takes a village. Thank you to the promoters, clubs, bands, managers, agents, artists, publishers, lawyers, publicists, crews, etc. etc. etc. who believed in us and everyone who made this work for so long. An enormous thank you to those of you who helped us through the many difficult periods. 

Thank you for your relentless support, your passionate listening, and your generosity. 

It's been the honor of my life to write, record, sing and perform for you. We are currently in the studio pouring ourselves into a new album — stay tuned for it. After this tour, we plan to continue to do our cave shows so we can have a way to meet up once a year, but that's it. Excited to see you all on this last trip out. —Adam Turla & Murder By Death

Links: Official Website | Facebook | Instagram | Twitter | Spotify

LAURA JANE GRACE

“These are songs of late night madness and loneliness, orphan songs that came wandering in looking to feed like insects,” Laura Jane Grace says of her new EP.

Half recorded at Grace’s TinyQuietStudio in Chicago and half recorded at Electric Eel in St. Louis, and mixed by her Devouring Mothers bandmate Marc Hudson, At War With The Silverfish finds Grace in a range of stripped-back, poignant modes that amount to an honest and holistic account of our shared humanity. Unafraid to spotlight open wounds and tangled feelings, Grace conveys the distinctive pluck that has defined her work with Against Me! and The Devouring Mothers, but with the intimate energy of home recording with an acoustic guitar. The album is not a clarion call, but a tender invitation. It is a necessary capsule of a woman’s artistic pulse; love, longing and loneliness told in affecting turns of phrase.

“Three of hearts/Two of them are broken/One of them is gold/All of them are worthless,” she sings on opener “Three of Hearts,” admitting later that she’s the “...surest sucker that you’ll ever see.” This vulnerable posture drives much of that album, like on “Lolo 13,” where Grace pines for a love she never had, and on “Yesterday Pt. II,” where she remembers a lover’s goodbye with visceral intensity. “I know I sound insane,” she repeats three times on the latter, imparting anxiety and resolve at once. It’s a device she employs through the record, deftly illustrating the mental gymnastics on the roads to self doubt and self acceptance.

Amid the emotional outpouring are piercing scenes of isolated domestic life — the endless cups of reheated java (“Day Old Coffee”), the relief of reconnecting with an old friend (“Electro-Static Sweep”). And then there is her old friend, Chicago, a city by now her home but not without its pain points. “Way out here on the edge of oblivion/May as well be Skokie, you’d have been so lucky for Berwyn,” she sings on “Long Dark Night,” surveying the landscape of her new Northside home, not the “hip” part of town but one vital to its cultural diversity.

Reflecting on the album’s interiority, Grace acknowledges the universal nature of many of its themes — how her highly personal accounts bloom into broader human connection. “I've learned that if you share your experience with good intentions that the universe will always surprise you with abundant return,” she says. “Every song is an act of faith; you don't necessarily know why you're singing it other than you know you've got to sing it.”

Links: Official Website | Facebook | Instagram | Twitter | Spotify