Hello Death, Forgotten Species
1354 W. Wabansia Ave
Chicago, IL, 60642
Doors 8:00 PM / Show 9:00 PM
Rock Falls is a small farming community in the northwest corner of Illinois. Situated on the Rock River, it is a quiet, little town with only five stoplights, acres upon acres of farmland and green leaves and grass that stretch as far as the eye can see. It is where Annie Reese was born and raised, and as it has been the strongest influence on her life, it was only fitting that it should be the moniker for her gentle, lo-fi, folk music. She now lives and performs in the city of Chicago, but is still very much a small-town girl.
Her songs are honest, succinct, oftentimes dark, and always powered by an emotional vulnerability that is palpable. Through her music, Reese captures the private, intimate moments that are frequently missed or ignored in today’s synthetic world—the chilling wind whipping outside of old apartment windows, the stillness that comforts us during times of heartbreak. Stepping away from the blue light of a computer screen and moving toward the blue light of dawn, rock falls is the soundtrack to this movement.
Annie Reese will be performing at The Hideout with Andrew Trim (guitar), Kurt Schweitz (bass), and Matt Carroll (drums).
Hello Death formed in 2010 when Nathaniel Heuer asked three Group of the Altos band mates to work on some dark folk material he had been writing. Each member brings an important voice. Shawn Stephany provides unique and rich guitar textures and swells. Erin Wolf plays keys that alternate between delicate arpeggios and booming pads, with a voice both pure and sultry. Marielle Allschwang exhibits beautiful form and tone on violin and guitar with a voice that lingers and haunts like a beautiful ghost. Nathaniel alternates between rhythm guitar and double bass, while his low voice guides you through an unlit place.
It is mostly sad junk that no one in the band knows how to use. Abandoned fuzz boxes built from old MiG parts in back rooms from Belarus to Bucharest. Crusty tape-delays bartered for in Kingston. An orphaned 1/4 Inch 8-Track with Cyrillic on the buttons found pantsless and hungry wandering the streets of Macau.
But when they hooked all of it up at once in their dark and damp Chicago basement, songs happened. From the riot of cables and tortured signal chains, melodies bloomed in the gloom. From squawk and clang came pop.They would only work between the hours of midnight and 4AM, the hours when Mark E. Smith and L. Ron Hubbard almost make equal sense. It was in these no-logic hours that Epic Soundtracks was absorbed, and Epic Soundtracks were created. Cocooned in noise beneath Illinois’ crust, they built their own sunshine while the world slept. They eventually emerged to find the world had changed and moved on and that they were Forgotten Species.