Say Anything, Mewithoutyou, Teen Suicide, Museum Mouth | Concord Music Hall | Rock, Pop, Etc | Chicago Reader

Say Anything, Mewithoutyou, Teen Suicide, Museum Mouth Recommended 17+ Early Warnings (Music) Soundboard Image

When: Fri., May 6, 6:30 p.m. 2016

On Teen Suicide’s recent It’s the Big, Joyous Celebration, Let’s Stir the Honeypot (Run for Cover), the track “Pavement” contains some lyrics that the other three bands on tonight’s bill can certainly relate to: “Pavement were an OK band / You don’t gotta sound like them.” Not that any of tonight’s bands have tried to or ever even wanted to sound like Pavement—headliners Say Anything have actively raged against that particular indie-rock machine since day one. Led by Max Bemis, that iconoclastic group began pushing against the confines of emo, pop-punk, and, yes, indie rock back in 2000, producing one of the more stylistically unwieldy but trenchant and exciting catalogs in any of those genres. Say Anything released their seventh album, February’s I Don’t Think It Is (Equal Vision), with just a week’s notice of its existence, and it’s proved divisive, its splurge of music swerving from confounding to affecting; both sensations are acute when Bemis turns his critical eye on himself on “Jiminy,” bleating about an “aging pop-punk vocalist.” Bemis’s creativity always forges something new, but his musical impulses have been deeply influential and remain well ingrained on the scene. Take aforementioned openers Teen Suicide, fronted by Sam Ray, the Young Thug of the indie-rock world, who’s responsible for delightful music released through a variety of projects including Ricky Eat Acid and Julia Brown. Teen Suicide were originally around for just a couple years, and after breaking up in 2012 they took on a mythical status among young fans that has held throughout their fragmented reunion shows and the original release of “Pavement” on a Topshelf 2014 label sampler (at the time the band said the song was a hoax and that they hadn’t made it). Last month’s mammoth 26-song Big, Joyous Celebration corrals black-metal blastbeats, twee vocal harmonies, lo-fi tape experimentation, and some damn fine melodies that capture the evanescence of a lovely spring day. —

Leor Galil

Price: $21.50

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