@colekincart (words n’ pics)

Last Sunday felt like one of those nights that sits weirdly between seasons. Not quite winter, not quite fall, but just Chicago 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 to the Riviera to catch Wednesday on their Bleeds tour. The last time I saw them was at Pitchfork Fest (rip), when they were deep in the Rat Saw God era which was a record that basically owned my 2024 listening hours. Now that things have changed for the both of us (this was their largest headline show to date, btw) 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 tabloid-level spectacle.

And then there’s the sound. As the whole “Twin Plagues spiritual successor” comment I keep seeing online (which, okay, Twitter does occasionally get something right). That same tension of loud/quiet/loud again, still tugging between chaos and stillness. Their live set completely leaned into that balance, especially 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. Something about Wednesday filtering a 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 stacked: “Formula One,” “Hot Rotten Grass Smell,” “Fate Is…,” “Got Shocked,” “Bath County,” “Gary’s II,” and my personal highlight “The Way Love Goes,” which is even more devastating live than I was prepared for. Hearing them drift between 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 carving out their own lane, but the fingerprints of the wider NC web are still there in spirit.

The show ended on “Wasp,” leaving that familiar Wednesday feeling in my chest as it was equal parts adrenaline and something tender you can’t really name. Walking out into Uptown, the cold air finally deciding to act like November again and it felt like one of those nights where you can quietly tell a band is entering their next era.

Bleeds is a tough album, but a necessary one. And live, it’s even clearer.