my favorite concerts of 2023

thoughts on some shows from around Portland (and who I saw them with)

I can count the times I’ve reviewed or otherwise written about music on one hand.

It’s not for lack of interest — music is, probably, my favorite art form. Truthfully, I listen to music more than I read, watch film, or play games in any given year. That’s how it’s been since I was a teenager. It’s a part of myself I tend to hide away because music is my dad’s life, and for years, it felt like I couldn’t just enjoy something on my own terms. I could litigate this for paragraphs, but won’t — that’s not the point of this piece. The point of this piece is to say: I love music, but I am not a music writer.

But Claudia Santos is.

Claudia has remained — for the last three years now — a constant source of drive and inspiration for my writing. Her blog, Aster Tracks, is a fount of creative expression and musical exploration that always encourages me to push higher, further, fiercer in my own writing. Beyond my love of her as a human being — a friend, a sister, a lover — how Claudia has cultivated her creative and critical voice over the past three years is inexorable from how I approach writing. She has a strong personal voice, tempered by an acerbic wit and brutal honesty that lends her work authenticity.

… But I feel like it might be embarrassing for me to gush much more. My old professor always harped on the importance of not wasting words. That was one of his guiding principles when it came to writing and editing. So I’d like to assemble this collection of them into a gift — a gratitude for Claudia’s thirty years of life, the voice she’s helped me find, and the experiences we’ve had together, with my partner (Pea), and with our friend I’ll call Z.

These were the shows that made 2023 worth living through with them.

Sobs (Mississippi Studios)

Singapore-based Sobs has been one of my favorite bands for some time now. When I broke up with my ex in 2019, their dreamy, driving, melancholy-tinged jams yanked me from one coast to another — and then back again. The lyricism in their tracks is earnest and big, real ‘heart as a bloody tattoo sleeve' stuff, made even more authentic by how infectious and dance-able it is. This isn’t studio-produced pseudo-relatable platitudes for sad millennials: it’s full-throated coping with angst, longing, heartbreak, and anxiety.

Celine Autumn is a force to be reckoned with in concert. Even directly above her in the balcony, her enthusiasm and energy brought us down to her level. It felt like I was in the thick of my feelings again, taking my companions along for the ride. Whether it was a cut off their last two albums or an Avril Lavigne cover, Autumn kept us enthralled and bobbing along the whole time. And — of course — her band was impeccable. They sounded better, freer, more vivacious live.

When I started listening to Sobs, I was depressed, alone, and I never thought I’d get out of a toxic relationship in a dead-end town. Plus, a band helping me through it was in Singapore! There went any chances of seeing them live. And yet five years later, I was in the same tiny venue with them. Standing next to two people I couldn’t imagine going a day without. Significantly less to sob about now.

Buffalo Daughter (The Doug Fir Lounge; old location)

Doug Fir Lounge was a great venue. While I’m sure their new set-up is great, there’s a classy, intimate sort of air about the old location I’ll miss. Last year, we were lucky enough to see Otoboke Beaver (courtesy of Pea) and Let’s Eat Grandma there, which were among the best shows I’ve ever been to. The performances felt close, confrontational — especially the aggro femme theatrics of Otoboke Beaver.

Which was precisely why it was so special to see Buffalo Daughter there, of all places. The legendary experimental rock band electrified a small crowd of genre enthusiasts who were ‘in the know’ enough to know this was a rare opportunity. They’re one of Pea’s favorite bands, but while I have always had a passing knowledge and respect, this show is what it took for me to understand the love. To really “get” it.

Every single second of their set was earth-shaking. Their experience came through in every bar, every chord, every extended jam-out. Despite a low turn-out, they commanded the room as it were sold through — filled the air with earnest banter and driving rock. Of the shows the three of us saw in Doug Fir, this may have been the most special.

Melody’s Echo Chamber (Revolution Hall)

Melody’s Echo Chamber is a spacious and ethereal psych-rock outfit out of France. Their lead singer — the titular Melody — weaves sonic webs with her otherworldly voice, snaring you in translucent beauty. It’s the band — her Echo Chamber — that provides structures for her to weave and cast between; rock-solid instrumentation that drives hard but ambles softly when the need arises. There’s nothing like it.

Seeing them perform, though, gave me a deeper appreciation than I’ve had — even as a fan. Watching Melody Prochet harmonize and synchronize in the middle of a circular stage arrangement is like watching a Greek oracle come to life in the modern age. She interprets, holds and releases her band’s energy, letting each chord — every beat of the tempo — bring her to life. Neither she nor her accompaniment let the crowd rest for a second.

Melody’s Echo Chamber hasn’t done much in the way of global touring. However, this crowd was jam-packed with devoted fans — mouthing, singing, dancing along to everything. The loyalty and the love this band inspires is infectious to be in the presence of.

Future Teens (Mano Oculta)

Boston-based Future Teens is scrappy energy grounded in queer melancholy. Their ‘bummer pop’ songs centered on social isolation and romantic remorse hit a raw emotional nerve few bands achieve for me. There’s an authenticity to not only their lyricism, but their performances, instrumentation, delivery. A track like “Alone At A Party”, for instance, could feel phoned-in if anyone else wrote it. Instead, it’s a sobering self-hatred bop about missing your ex and hating the party you’re at. It feels lived and understood. We’ve all been there — right?

The band’s authenticity only increases on stage. Their heartfelt conversations, sardonic jokes, and legitimate kindness towards one another were all infectious to watch. There’s a distinct difference between bands that play well together and bands that love to play together — agreed-upon form versus authentic function. Future Teens very much falls in the latter camp — a collective of fiercely loving and vulnerable friends selling their triumphs and losses as songs.

I’d be remiss to not mention one of the openers — loud, aggro, but distinctly wry Smidley. While I’ve listened to them off and on since, they left one of the biggest impressions on me that night with a story about their tour van breaking down in the mountains. I’d never heard of them, but wound up with a tour shirt and CD for their troubles.

Sydney Sprague (The Mission)

There’s not an artist like Sydney Sprague. Sure, a fresh crop of streamers have experienced post-pandemic breakout success. But it’s fair to say most haven’t swirled genres with lyricism this honest, this confident, this on-the-level. That’s Sprague’s biggest strength, outside of her formidable talent as a guitarist: her lyrics are conversational melodies with no emotional remove. You’re caught up in whatever whirlwind chat she’s taking you on, hanging on — for example — to every word of an argument she transcribed through a wall (“God Damn It Jane.”)

Sprague is a titan on stage — oscillating from vulnerable and casual to intense and loud at the drop of a hi-hat. Her band backs her powerful playing with an accompaniment as bombastic and honest as her. Their playing was in total sync that night, effortlessly melding tight melodies with sprawling free-form jams. In a small venue with not very many people to round it out, this was especially a treasure. Special note, too, should be given to opener Kendall Lujan — a soulful folk singer with a voice from a world much prettier and more pleasant than our own.

… and that’s all I have to say about those!

Not really. I could go on for much longer about each show. Frankly, it was hard to narrow down the list to five. We saw a wealth of music this year — together and separate — and next year, I hope to see more. I’ve spent less money on gaming in general this year — I could count the new releases I picked up on one hand — and instead divested more towards comics and concerts. It’s been a good use of money, I think. Something about sharing these nights with my partners, commemorating them with a shirt or a CD, talking about them for months… I think I get more out of that than a disc with a fake world on it.

But concerts might not have become a regular thing for me if it weren’t for Claudia. There was a multi-year gap between shows for me, and on some level, accessing music I cared about in-person was alien to me. I lived in a dull mid-Oregon town with one amphitheater and a barely-extant local scene for most of the 2010s. It was only thanks to seeing LM.C at Anime Weekend Atlanta 2019 that I kicked off a four-year streak of going to shows.

While Pea and I hit up some excellent gigs prior to my knowing Claudia, it was Claudia’s constant drive, enthusiasm, and curiosity for music that made me think I could (just maybe) be “one of those people who goes to shows.” This past two years has been a fever pitch of discovering new artists and seeing bucket-list acts in equal measure. Of deciding that experience is worth more money than isolating myself in a fantasy. With her, with Pea, and with the two of them combined, I’ve filled my life with so much more music than I ever knew possible.

So — go read Claudia’s blog. She just put up her last batch of reviews of the year, and they’re all strong, bite-sized reads. Her retrospective on Silverstein’s Misery Made Me is a good glance at foundational music for her tastes; as far as her long-form critical work goes, her Pulses review is a thorough celebration of that album’s sense of community and collaboration. I fell for Claudia through her writing — her unique and quirky manner of expression — and I think most people will, too.

(And if you drop by sometime this month? Be sure to wish her a happy birthday.)

With that, thus ends the first 1/4 of my year-end write-ups. Two more will appear here (or in your inbox, all 50% of you that open the email!) with the last for the fine folks over at Start Menu. EiC Lex Luddy was generous enough to ask for some year-end takes, and I’m obliging her with esoteric weirdness. Because what are friends for? I had a great time with my list last year, and hope y’all enjoy what I’m cooking up this go-round. (Lexi, there’s no Sonic this time. I promise!)

up next: my favorite comics of 2023 (you had to see this coming)