STS9 | Radius | 18-19 October

There’s a very short list of bands I’d consider paying to see multiple nights in a row, most of whom show up on this blog over and over again. And you’d see Sound Tribe Sector 9 mentioned here a lot more frequently than you do, only the group doesn’t come around very often. Absolutely everything I read on the internet suggests that touring and selling merch is the only way bands can survive these days, but somehow STS9 survive anyway. Did the members sock away all their money back when they were at the forefront of a burgeoning jamband/electronica hybrid scene? Did they all pick up lucrative side hustles or marry wealthy partners? They’re averaging 20-some shows per year, spread out haphazardly via weekend stands throughout the country. They’ve settled into an every-four-years album cycle, although I suspect it’s only diehards buying these. There were a couple of shirts for sale at Radius over the weekend, but nothing terribly eye-catching.

Is it possible that STS9 have accomplished the outlandish feat of living within their means? It’s certainly not the American way, and to younger generations the very idea of a five-person band sustaining itself the way STS9 does has to seem like a fantasy, yet here they were in Chicago, once again putting on shows that make every other act in their general category seem boring by comparison, charging $60 per night all fees included, before heading home again on Sunday. It defies all logic.

Opening the show both Friday and Saturday were Lettuce, a psych-jazz-funk outfit out of Boston who’ve been on the scene even longer than STS9, having formed back in 1992 and only swapped out two original members over the years (one of whom, guitarist Eric Krasno, has led sister band Soulive since its 1999 inception). Over the course of their set Friday night they reminded me a lot of seeing Galactic back in the early 2000s, only without quite the instrumental firepower of that band. Galactic in their prime were (and probably still are) super tight, whereas Lettuce favored a looser, more wide-ranging approach (I’d seen a little of their performance at the doomed Sacred Rose festival in ’22 (http://www.you-phoria.com/Blog/2022/September/sacred-rose-festival) but this was my first time legitimately paying attention to a set of theirs), and the funny part to me is that over the years my tastes have shifted in the direction of Lettuce. I may not have enjoyed them if I’d seen them 20 years ago (hell I didn’t enjoy what I witnessed in ’22), when I was catching Galactic as often as humanly possible, but Galactic once upon a time had the propensity to get wayyy out there too, only they unfortunately evolved in the opposite direction.

That said, neither Friday’s nor Saturday’s Lettuce set blew me away. They weren’t afraid to see where the wind might blow, though, and the journey both nights was highly engaging, touching on a myriad of genres along the way with rarely a dull moment. Whereas Galactic boasts musicians who could wallop you individually and as a full ensemble, though, Lettuce seem to lack the capacity to take a performance to that next level. This certainly isn’t about singling anybody out and as I said I don’t even know what they were like ‘back in the day’; maybe if they were the headliners there’d be no holds barred even today. Either way, as a warmup act for STS9, they were perfect.

Now’s the part where I tell you I still am soooo not an expert on this band. If I were being paid for this I’d PRETEND to be, and all but the hardest-core fans would fall for it, but I’m not. In fact I can STILL only name maybe 20 songs if you put me on the spot; spotting them as they’re being played, maybe half of those. Truth be told, ever since I started going to see them again, there’s only one song I’ve been craving: “The Rabble”. For all I know this is like the “Sample In A Jar” of the STS9 world; I never did get a handle on what the fanbase’s preferences were back in the Murph years, what were the hits, what was overplayed. I remember when PEACEBLASTER came out it seemed like people didn’t particularly like it when they’d play those songs. That’s about all I can tell you.

“The Rabble” they played a lot though. The thing about “The Rabble” is that in anticipation of its chorus we all get so worked up, yet the chorus itself is so understated; it’s a hook of unparalleled infectiousness in spite of how not-huge it is. It’s a hook that leaves you hanging every time. I didn’t fully grasp this in those days, the power in this idea and how it may even have related to other things that were running rampant in the STS9 scene. It’s the distinction between expectation and anticipation; only the former will specifically let you down.

In those days we LIVED on anticipation. These days who has time? There was a blur of traffic, a beer at the Airbnb, suddenly you’re at the Skylark and now you’re actually excited or something and your appetite vanishes because even though it doesn’t FEEL like it outside, summer is long over with and this is pretty much it for, like, live music EVENTS this year. There will still be SHOWS, isolated clumps of hours here and there, just no major destinations for months; the long off-season is about to commence, and once again you failed to BASK in anticipation of the weekend. That’s what opening bands are for, right? (Ulp.)

Radius opened almost four years ago—that’s right, IN 2O2O. Nobody I knew had even been here before; it still smelled new. It’s a warehouse concept, very high ceilings opening up to a vendor area and restrooms in back, and PRAISE JEEBUS they don’t serve Goose Island. In fact it felt eerily perfect all weekend, a packed dancefloor but never uncomfortably so, and with so much bonus space in the concourse it was easy to get out of the fray and still hear the music loud and clear; the sound was decent even in the bathrooms and pretty great out in the open.

In a sense, opening the weekend with “The Rabble”, STS9 totally screwed me. It wasn’t deflating in the sense of ‘yay they played my favorite song, everything else is downhill’; it wasn’t simply the fact that I hadn’t heard them play it in 13 years. It was how the initial disbelief fed into that old jamband pipedream, that sometimes they read your mind, they KNOW you’re there, they HEARD you talking while you were walking to the venue. And then it was the way they played it, almost entirely unlike the way they used to play it, yet unmistakable all the same. It didn’t FEEL the same; none of this feels the same any more. It’s like the whole meaning of the song changed, and being that, like most STS9 songs, it has no words, I don’t even know what it EVER meant. If this were most bands I’d be feeling a twinge of sadness, like some essence was lost; in this case it was an overwhelming thrill, that this band could take the song I most cherished from a long-gone era and turn it into something so fresh. It was the point at which STS9 was no longer about recapturing anything; it was 100% about the road ahead again.

As such, these fifteen minutes or so meant more to me than anything else they could probably do, aside from take me up in a literal spaceship or something. Yet they continued to do wonderful things. Like, I didn’t know they even had Miles Davis in their repertoire; they ended the first set with a groove-monster version of “Black Satin”, welcoming possibly the entire Lettuce crew onstage as they built to a massive climax approaching Mogwai intensity levels. While their self-description of “post-rock dance music” goes back to the Murph era, I can’t imagine that band pulling off this type of organic noise surge.

Then again, STS9 existed for a long time before I came around to them, and it could be that the Alana Rocklin era (bassist since 2014) is a throwback in ways I’ll never full fathom. Their Friday night show definitely had meandering stretches and moments when the band seemed uncertain of their next move, which to me indicates a willingness to evolve in front of your audience that most groups won’t allow themselves. They also allow for the eventual payoffs to be that much sweeter when the ensemble gels as one.

The iffy moments never lasted long; somebody always swooped in, and usually it was David Phipps. Across two sets Friday night I was reminded of lots of bands but I haven’t walked away from a show so overwhelmed by a keyboardist’s performance like that since the headiest days of MMW. Not that Phipps is much like John Medeski as a player; he simply took charge and ransacked our brains in a comparable fashion. Phipps was melodic, he was belligerent, he was unpredictable, and that’s not to take way from Hunter Brown, who I expect to be a reliable utility player on guitar and keys but who improvised with an uncommon fearlessness at times Friday night. I really need to relisten, and I’m excited to, ’cause I think it was my new favorite STS9 show.

This rather experimental approach may have led to a somewhat safer (yet no less invigorating) Saturday night show. Prior to Murph’s 2014 departure, his banter comprised just about the only meandering you’d experience at a STS9 show; they didn’t take many improvisational risks in those days, which as much as anything led to my growing disinterest and ultimate disconnection from the band for several years. As big of a fan as I’d become, it started to be the same shit every night; emotional returns diminished accordingly. Nowadays, STS9 shows are completely different every night. It’s part of the struggle of reintegrating—they started becoming the band I wanted them to be shortly after I gave up on them.

So we’ve been forming this new relationship since 2018. Maybe we’re both still a tad leery, remembering how the other one used to disappoint us. Of course it’s always helpful when your mutual friends keep insisting THEY’VE CHANGED, but in the back of your mind you’re always like ‘have they REALLY changed…?” I mean they do NOT look like their yearbook portrait.

It’s true though; after this weekend I’ve lost all fear of STS9 slipping into old habits. Sadly, though, efforts to manifest our OTHER favorite songs went unheeded Saturday night; Tribe have become one of those bands you almost have to see on multiple nights if you want any wishes fulfilled. Rather than Miles Davis it was Chic’s “Good Times” (again garnished with Lettuce) to end the first set, indicative of the more party, less fuck-shit-up atmosphere. My impressions are that most people enjoyed Saturday even more than Friday, and it was definitely the more consistent and more perpetually danceable night. It was a night of Sound Tribe showing us that although they’re willing to perform musical feats without a net, they are still a groove powerhouse when they feel like it. Exhausting in the best possible way. Joyous but not oppressively so. It took me back not just to old STS9 days but to raves in the ‘90s. In that sense, STS9 has always been a tiny bit about nostalgia, physical echoes from the days when my body first felt compelled to move to music in an un-pre-programmed way.

What a miracle my body is still capable of responding to any such impulses! How many more years can I keep doing this for? How long before the people I wish were there with me are all I can think about? How long before staying up until 3 a.m. is more taxing than the dancing is fun? The second sets started after midnight both nights; is that even LEGAL in Wisconsin? Yet as much as the setting at Radius, the music, the lights, all struck the perfect club vibe, it wasn’t the chaotic party scene from when I was a kid. It was chill even compared to the average Phish show. Maybe it has something to do with legal weed, or the scourge of fentanyl. Or maybe STS9 fans learned a lesson somewhere along the line, maybe even along with the band members themselves, that the music is all that matters.