What I Learned About Music While Touring Chicago With A Food Writer (who is also my best friend)

On a perfectly warm fall day, my friend Kate and I sit in the grass at Grant Park, staring blankly at the clear blue views of the Michigan Lake against the Chicago skyline. It’s a Thursday afternoon and even though we’re both technically on a long weekend vacation, all we do is talk about work… or what we want from our work, at least. 

Kate’s had her nose to the grind since landing a pretty sweet gig as a freelance writer at Chicago Feast. Yes, my fellow 2010 college grad now gets paid to blog about food news, while I continue to hunt for the unicorn job music journalism. To me Kate is livin’ the life: and independent city woman  writing about eating. But to her, it’s a strange daily struggle to separate business and pleasure.

For four days, I saw Kate get excited about what initially drove her into food writing- sharing what she thinks tastes amazing with others.  From the deep dish Chicago staple to organic sustainable delis and burger shops; to the classy high-brow tasting menu of ceviches and foi gras. Oh and more desserts than my calorie conscious self can admit to-- Kate was thrilled every time I took a bite followed by a look of dazed and relaxed awe. (I had a moment with the Nutella Milkshake at Edzo’s Burger).

Later on, I was reminded I was reminded why I ever decided to get into journalism after weeks of being defeated by the job market. The Local Natives were playing in Chicago during my visit so I hyped up this show as much as Kate hyped up the Edzo’s 8oz double ground burger. They blew my mind twice at South by Southwest and I wanted Kate to experience this for herself. Intense melodies, delicate four part harmonies, the steady drums’ heavy pulse came up from the floor, through the heels and right to the throat. The Local Natives may be dubbed indie-folk rock, but they deliver a rush unmatched by any other act in the typically wimpy genre. They are nuances with many genres like subtleties in the wine and beer (There was a lot of drinking this weekend too).

 I saw Kate’s jaw-drop during the show and I loved saying “I told you so,” even if she never doubted me. But what really caught my attention was the opening act The Union Line. I scrutinize new music so much to the point that I forget to just enjoy it, much like Kate feels pressure to take friends to the absolute best places to eat. But hearing a brand new breath taking band shook me from my habit. The Union Line is similar to the Local Natives (both L.A. bred rootsy acoustic with a penchant for harmonies). Where the Local Natives can be delicate, the Union Line has a sharper steel finish. (A more in-depth profile to come)

Kate and I both needed to remind each other that perusing a passion as a career includes a balancing act. When work is play and play is work, separating the two doesn’t come easily. But we’re young, agile, and tenacious; so with occasional four-day weekend to remind each other of that we can burn out and recharge for years.