The Hush Sound - Bottom Lounge - 2/4/2012

I confess I missed The Hush Sound the first time around. It must have been during my steel drum band phase. I can get obsessive. Eventually I realized I had to leave the islands before my brains got fried and return to Chicago. Upon arrival I heard that I needed to check out a band called Gold Motel. I don’t like being told what to do, so I didn’t. But it turns out they were opening for a Cold War Kids show and I did make an effort to get there in time to check them out. Gold Motel had a catchy, kind of pop sound led by a likable lass on keyboards and vocals. I had my crack staff do some research and found out the lass was one Greta Morgan, previously of The Hush Sound.

Turns out that a lot of Gold Motel fans missed The Hush Sound, and after checking out some old videos I missed them, too. Word must have gotten out on the street and eventually to Greta, because no more more than six months later The Hush Sound arranged a couple reunion shows at The Bottom Lounge just for Cracky. Thanks, Greta.

I obviously felt obligated to attend and picked up a ticket. As The Bottom Lounge filled up for the second of two sold-out shows, it became apparent that I did not fit the target demographic which consisted of 20 year-old girls and spider monkeys. I almost climbed into the rafters to hang out with the spider monkeys, but stuck it out on the main floor.

Greta handled vocal duties for Gold Motel but shares them with Bob Morris in The Hush Sound, which makes them the surf n’ turf of pop. I wanted to take them out for karaoke afterwards and force them to do a duet of “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” by Elton John and Kiki Dee, and then buy them ice cream with sprinkles. I totally get why the 20 year old girl demographic digs them.

I typically prefer my music darker or louder, but I appreciate a good pop song and musicians like The Hush Sound who can consistently write a hook that snags you like a hungry catfish. I also learned that the 99% that everyone is talking about refers to the percentage of their audience who sing along to every song, firmly ingraining damn near every one in my brain. Not necessarily a bad thing, but eventually Rob Zombie is going to have enough and evict them. Until that happens, Crack Approved.