By @amelia.moseman
Photos by @colekincart

Seeing a band like UK rock group Black Country, New Road is the perfect example of the limits of music critics. The rise of the “Pitchfork review” has made music criticism often too biased and too singular—writers see themselves as more artist than the artists they review. Maybe it’s the Midwesterner in me but I’m of the opinion that the art of writing shouldn’t be done at the cost of other art, and you shouldn’t critique something you couldn’t make yourself. 

I could talk about BCNR’s growth as a band, if I like their new sound or not, who this new album is for, which album is their best, etc., but at the end of the day what they are producing transcends any sort of analysis I can conjure. I have never seen a band so musically artful and united as I saw Tuesday night at the Salt Shed. I don’t think I have the musical knowledge to describe what it is they do but I know the sounds coming from their instruments introduced my brain to an entirely new set of signals.

For context, BCNR had a very different vocal profile and ethos at their conception. For context, BCNR’s newest album features solely the vocal work of its three female members, Tyler Hyde, Georgia Ellery, and May Kershaw. For context, I was attending this show with two of my male friends who have been big BCNR fans since the Isaac Wood era. For context, both of said friends had borderline indifferent initial reactions to Forever Howlong, the third studio album from BCNR. 

The show started with “Besties”, a quintessentially feminine song. Led by Georgia Ellery (Jockstrap) on vocals that are mirrored by the various string instruments, the song details a friendship, potentially unrequited. It’s a feel-good song sonically, filled with tinkly piano, a runaway saxophone and a simple drumbeat, ending with a harmonious chorus of oohs and ahs from the three vocalists.  

After a triumphant round of applause, the band went straight into a piece from their live album Live at Bush Hall “The Boy” led by Kershaw. Split into three “chapters”, I always loved the story and flow of this piece. The range and character stuffed into each BCNR song never fails to amaze me.  

Heading straight into “Salem Sisters” completed the trifecta as Hyde took her turn at lead vocals. That’s one of the biggest beauties of this new album: Hyde, Ellery, and Kershaw each bring distinct yet strong sounds to their respective pieces. On the songs where they soar together in harmony, no one voice stands above the rest. The melody slides effortlessly between Ellery’s bright quaver, Hyde’s sultry complexity, and Kershaw’s classical crooning. The closing song, “Goodbye (Don’t Tell Me)”, concludes with a series of harmonies reminiscent of Haim. After all this time I have to imagine they share that same sister-like bond. 

As always, the Chicago crowd proved themselves the best “sixth man”—err, seventh in this case. Talking in between songs, Hyde expressed her shock at the enthusiasm and “organization” of the crowd. There was a tense excitement in the air but no expectation. At the turn of “Two Horses” (3:19 if you’re listening along) for example, there were murmurs which grew to whoops and cheers, a collective acknowledgement of what was coming. The crowd seemed to be well versed in Forever Howlong, nodding to every note, every riff, and every word.  

Speaking of words, BCNR makes what I would call lyric agnostic music. I’m a lyric lover at heart—words are what I know—but BCNR songs are far too unpredictable and abstract for interpretation. I don’t feel seen or relate to the story of a woman meeting a man at a bar who precedes to kill her two horses but a swelling crescendo or time signature change or a flittering flute evoke the same emotion words might. BCNR are wizards of their instruments and playing together, it’s magic.  

The sound of this album is much more palatable than previous albums, but that doesn’t take away from their reputation. Rather, it demonstrates their ability to master any sound they choose, layering depth and intricacy with the same care and detail that is apparent across their entire catalog. Case and point? The title track, Forever Howlong, was performed entirely with recorders, piano and Kershaw’s voice. At this point, they’re just flexin’. 

To my friends and others longing for the early sounds of Black Country, New Road, don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened. They’re not gone, just transformed. The best album they can make is the one they want to, and we have the privilege of taking in whatever that may be. And honestly, maybe you just hate women. 

I’m content to let BCNR talk through me rather than try and come up with some arbitrary take on their arc for the sake of commentary. Their performance Tuesday night was a master display of creativity, ingenuity, and authenticity, enough said. Whatever they come up with next, I’ll be there to soak up every last note. BCNR, friends forever!  

All photos taken by Cole Kincart. Please email wiit@iit.edu for any inquiries on usage