storm conditions

I remember feeling The Lightning during the opening of The Violet Hour, a theater production I did costumes for my third year of college. It was one of those projects that felt like the perfect storm—my friend Jesse, a director and dramaturg, had the idea of proposing this play for our undergraduate theater season for at least a year before it actually happened. There was an energy around it, the sense of a big project that our whole department was invested in so deeply, particularly because most of us—myself included—were in lead production positions for the first time. I remember staying up until 3 a.m. in the back of the theater dressing rooms sewing a 1910s evening gown together. I dug through piles of fabric at Fishman’s on Roosevelt Street to find the right lace for our tiny budget. I tilted swatches of satin under Andrew’s chosen lighting gels to make sure they looked just so. At opening, I held Jesse’s hand tight in the back of the house as the lights went down. We were so proud of what we created together, how meticulously we had worked to make a tiny world, a refuge and a mirror. Every production meeting we had was fun and electric, the epitome of “yes, and—”. We cared about what we were doing and approached it with open, warm spirits. Not quite knowingly, we had harnessed The Lightning.

The Lightning! An idea, a feeling, even if you don’t know how to articulate it yet. Embracing all possibilities, feeling them channel through you. When I was younger, The Lightning wasn’t something I felt like I was purposefully employing. It just happened sometimes, and when it did it felt mysterious and, well… electric. I played a strange harmonic on my saxophone on accident. I sang unfinished lyrics to an empty room. I drew something I didn’t even realize was living in the back of my mind until it hurtled out.

Now, I find ways to try and see The Lightning, because I realized it’s always around. Piece of trash on the street? A single line of poetry? A candid photo? A flock of birds squabbling over who gets to live in the “good” tree? I have seen The Lightning in these things. Sometimes it’s a spark that takes a while to become a storm; takes weeks, months, years. It’s hard to be patient, but I try my best to keep conditions favorable for a storm. I take little pieces of The Lightning and write them down, hide them away. Then one day I might line them all up, and the storm returns: The Lightning meets the ground, and I catch it.

upcoming shows

Friday, June 26 - Chicago I am playing a solo set at the Empty Bottle supporting Lydia Cash’s record release! Contrary to playing more new stuff, I will be playing a lot of old stuff from Gruñona, just because I feel like it! Tickets are here.

Thursday, July 16 - Kalamazoo I am playing a solo set at Glow Hall opening for some musicians I admire very much: Whitney Johnson, Lia Kohl, and Macie Stewart. They released a great record recently called BODY SOUND. Stoked to do a little road trip for this one! Tickets are here.

studio time

I continue to be at Narwhal with Brian Deck; last week Katie Ernst (one half of the truly incredible Edith Judith) came in to play some upright bass on a few songs, and I had Quin Kirchner and Victoria Park back in trio mode with me. Things are sounding cool and it’s been very fun! Perhaps I will have something for you to hear later this year…

recent amusements

Rosalía’s show at United Center. I saw her at Aragon Ballroom the last time she played Chicago in… 2022? My seats were worse but that didn’t diminish from how stunning the show was (especially the orchestra conductor, Yudi Heredia! she ruled)

The new PJ Harvey single.

Banal Nightmare by Halle Butler. Both unsettling and settling, in a Millennial way.

Eating all the strawberries, making hibiscus tea, drinking the mezcal that my cousin very kindly brought me from Mexico City.

take care,

HG

P.S. - Northern Venezuela was hit by the strongest earthquake since 1967 last night— my family are thankfully all okay and accounted for. Please keep them and the country in your thoughts as many people are still missing.