@colekincart (words n’ pics)

Last Sunday was one of those nights that sits weirdly between seasons. It didn’t quite feel like winter, nor did it quite feel like fall, but rather Chicago just being Chicago and choosing to be indecisive and gray. Trying my best to plan for the weather (a la, how many layers do I need?), I made my way up catch Wednesday at the Riviera (their largest headlining show to date, btw) in support of their latest bout, Bleeds. The last time I saw them was at Pitchfork Fest (rip), when they were deep in the Rat Saw God and the camo-hat ratio was at an all time high (re: midwest princess and harris/walz). Now that things have changed for the both of us, seeing them now in this different, heavier, more interior chapter felt kind of like checking back in on someone you know in passing but also feel strangely connected to.

Bleeds, the record, feels like this tight coil of personal unraveling, the kind of writing that feels like eavesdropping but with permission. Live, you could feel how much of it is built around Carly’s worldview like the way she threads blunt honesty into these weirdly universal shapes, even when the specifics are very much hers. Knowing the album was written and recorded before anyone really knew about her and MJ splitting adds this quiet ache to the whole thing. I keep telling people to read her Vulture piece about The Breakup and the Merle Haggard song “That’s The Way Love Goes,” because it really frames the emotional architecture here without ever turning it into Daily-Mail-level spectacle.

And then there’s the sound. As the whole “Twin Plagues spiritual successor” comment I keep seeing online (which, okay, I know is a lukewarm regurgitated Twitter-take) but I do think there is a through-line regarding the world Karly has been building over the last few albums that I’ll save for another time. That same tension of loud/quiet/loud again and the perpetual tugging between chaos and stillness is something that’s become a cornerstone in their sound. That said, their live set completely leaned into that balance, especially for example when they dropped into “Twin Plagues” itself and then later scorched through “Bull Believer,” scream included.

After peeping the setlist ahead of time I was stoked to see  “September Gurls” make its rounds throughout tour and was excited to hear it at their Chicago date (we got lucky!). Something about Wednesday filtering a Big Star classic through their own fuzzed-out lens, just works. It felt like a nod to the lineage they’re part of while still being firmly rooted in the messy, modern, NC-universe we’ve all been collectively obsessed with these last few years.

The rest of the setlist was quite stacked with essentials such as, “Formula One,” “Hot Rotten Grass Smell,” “Fate Is…,” “Got Shocked,” “Bath County,” “Gary’s II,” and my personal highlight “The Way Love Goes.” That’s one already feels bruised on the record and hearing it live just folds you inside out. Hearing them slide the heavier Bleeds cuts and older staples reminded me why this band feels like such an anchor in the whole southern-adjacent, fuzz-rock, alt-country-but-not-really ecosystem. They’re really carving out their own lane, but you can still feel the fingerprints of the wider NC web are still there in spirit.

Wednesday closed their set with “Wasp,” which left the very specific Wednesday feeling in my chest. Something that is equal parts adrenaline and something also tender that you can’t really name. Heading out of the venue and catching the train in Uptown, the Cold finally crept in, as the weather started to act like November again.

Bleeds is a tough record. It’s dense and necessary but also doesn’t pretend to cushion anything. And live, all that stays true as they continue to get sharper, clearer and almost like they’re letting you stand a little too close to the voltage.