Wednesday, March 1, 2017

THE MORTVILLE COLLECTIVE – ITS BEGINNINGS, RISE, FALL, AND THE AFTERMATH

      As I first entered the building to see its first show on quasi-penthouse-like 3rd floor, I never even knew that this loft was a little bit like the secretive Homan Square site used by Chicago Police that was a bit like a loft. But around 2009, when I got there---this now defunct place known formerly as 2106 S. Kedzie—I did not see boys in blue, squad cars, evidence of people being slapjacked or waterboarded, or cordoned-off barbed-wire fences. I did see some modern hipsters doing their dance thing, or punk rock thing, and even shooting off some marijuana smoke in the process. In addition, I saw a tire swing, a rather unkempt brown wooden floor, and a loose-knit stage focusing on a dark atmosphere as strings of Christmas lights try to shine through this semi-darkness. There was an outside terrace to the west of the area where people converse and talk, while the main action was inside. It was basically a nearly no-holds-barred place that might have rivaled other radical DIY music places that had popped up and died in Pilsen, though this spot was at Douglas Park.  The vibe was nearly unbounded and nearly unrestricted, almost like Josh Harris’ bunker depicted in “We Live in Public”, in December 1999 in a nondescript loft in New York’s Manhattan, but without the non-private bunks or the guns. Moreover, the third-floor concessions there were on the southeast corner near the bathroom area, and it had a sort of multicolored theme paying homage to the colors of ice cream trucks. It served beer and other non-alcoholic essentials.The bathroom was unisex, and it had a window facing south toward the railroad bridge that hugged the building, where the Metra Union Pacific-West commuter trains, Amtrak trains, and freight trains, pass by. Sadly, this place was not ADA-accessible and you have to walk 2 flights of stairs to get there, but there is transportation accessability near the building—about 150 feet north of it, the CTA Pink Line ran alongside the building from west to east, but it did not run 24 hours a day, and when the train stopped running after hours, you are at the mercy of finding other transportation means. Sure there was the CTA #52 Kedzie that cut through just by the place but it was difficult to get that bus especially during the weekends, so with options running (before there was Uber or Lyft), you had to take a taxi to get yourself home from there. Despite the transportation problems, I very profoundly believe that it was the ultimate DIY utopian place in Chicago for a while before it had to go under—and that name was Mortville.
     Mortville, which was ran by Meg McCarville and Sara Heymann, was not only utopia for me—it was utopia for hundreds of its spectators, fans—as well as the scores of bands from Chicago and away from it that made it their home for several years. Coming right straight directly from Sara, she remembered that the first show ever by Mortville happened in September 2008, and was an art show, which Sara states, “sold convenience store products by artists made by artists for $5.” Then, as for the start of the music, Sara said the first booked bands for its first music show were Percolator, Nothingheads, and pisspisspissmoanmoanmoan (which would feature Nicole Miller on theremin/effects and Alex Morales on drums; the band partially disbanded so this band only features Alex as solo), but Sara said that those bands did not even show up. The second show did have bands that showed up—Bitchin’ Bajas, Charlie Slick, and the Dozal Brothers. I did not know in my first dates with Mortville that it was a building formerly owned by Weiser and Sons., who used to make pianos at that place. The whole loft had a total of 18,000 square feet of space, and the front façade of windows in the 1st floor area featured 4 glass block windows on the east side, each of them about 6 feet by 7 feet along the north door on its right. The rest of the front windows were on the 2nd and 3rd floors, the second having 5 windows of about 10 feet by 10 feet, and the third, about 6 feet by 10 feet. The side façade on the north side had tan brick had only windows on the 3rd floor, while the front façade had red brick.
     And because it was a loft that used to be free to use, other DIY people took the reins of the 1st and 2nd floors and made up their other spaces under the third-floor Mortville—to make that 2106 address seem to be more than just a Mortville DIY music collective—it seemed like a complete DIY loft venue collective. The 2nd floor housed what was then called Treasure Town. I can only speculate that because the noise of  the music would be absorbed by the first floor under it and the third floor (Mortville) above it, the focus of Treasure Town was loud punk bands and loud noise bands and other experimental noise acts. My rememberances of Treasure Town was that it had a big colorful wall mural on the south part of the building, which featured an orange string, a red door, and a brown dilapidated fence, among lots of items, and the ceiling was not really high—about 10 feet, with exposed electric wiring and piping in its dark ceiling.
    And just under Treasure Town, there was still another house place on the 1st floor that was used mainly for not-so-weird DIY music ensembles—mainly experimental and avant-garde, but not terribly wild. That 1st floor place was known as Casa Donde, which was quite pitchy, because it was near the Little Village (aka “La Villita”) neighborhood. It simply meant—and roughly so—“House Where”, in Spanish, so it was a sort of hyperbole to the Treasure Town/Mortville combination above it. If you can make a word anagram from “House Where”—it would be “Where House”, which is subliminally messaged as “Warehouse”—which also smacks of the heyday when DIY industrial music was king in Chicago. Bands that came in to Casa Donde – mainly likely were first-time DIY bands who wanted to really sell their merch, and they showed their merch front-and-center—really!! I did not know who ran Casa Donde, but I found out that the calvacade of past bands that embraced the place included S.L.F.M., Truman and His Trophy, Animal City, Maren Celest, Katrina Stonehart, Relatives, Karl Marks, New Diet, Meah!, and Meatwave. When I saw Meah! at Casa, they were an ultra-crazy progressive punk ensemble that made me wonder that this place might trump the regular Mortville abpve. The band did make some noise, but later on, I realized that Mortville, with its variety of shows from music to performance art, still came up on top on that 2106 address.
      And I was keenly aware about what happened during the post 9-11 area, and what happened when two nightclubs – Chicago E2 nightclub and The Station nightclub in New England – both had fatal disasters. These three factors caused a major excuse for Chicago’s big wigs to target nearly any DIY venue that did not have a Personal Place of Amusement license and was not places like The Empty Bottle, The Whistler, or Cole’s (all of these 3 places did have PPAs and not house venues, so basically most times the Chicago Police left them alone). And Chicago’s bigwigs – including members of the Department of Buildings, Chicago Police, and other municipal entities – started to wage war—and had won part of the battle. But not only these bigwigs tried to silence Chicago DIY music from house venues and independent cooperative-collectives. Anti-DIY neighbors and landlords also joined in the fight to put an end to such venues like the Bakery in Pilsen, The Mopery and Ronny’s at Logan Square, and MTV Studios in Pilsen.
     Sara also told me that the area around the place was quite heavily gang-laden—The Satan Disciples were the main gang and probably the Latin Kings or Two-Sixers were also there, but Sara said that the gangs did not look out at Mortville to create fear, or do a “tumba” (stick-up), or worse, shoot down dead as many DIY fans or bands they did not like at all if they perceived any of them as rival gangbangers.. The bangers, she said, “mainly left us alone.” But Meg and Sara were not going to do a police-state type of security for this place—that would turn off a lot of DIY fans. No metal detectors, no frisking, no bag checks for weapons, and no impersonal security guards with tasers either—even though these two ladies still had to be on the lookout for jerks who could cause trouble in that place. But that is all that I can say for now. Marijuana was welcome in that place—that was a thing that made me be just a little bit concerned.
      Mortville—and its two curators—were known for setting off some of the most outrageous and most wacky shows and happenings at the place. It is something that people who love the Burning Man events blush, but not too much……some exciting moments:

1. The place held Garbage World for the first time on November 15, 2009 (just a little over 1 year before Mopery had to close its doors with its last show on August 28, 2010), with the help of its creator who used to live in Chicago, Eileen Lillian Doyle, who was coined Gertie Garbage. It was a weekend featuring a calvacade of performance artists, spoken word artists, and interdisciplinary performers performing avant-garde, experimental, or anarchist-driven presentations. 3 other Garbage World events were held there on February 20 and June 25—both of them in 2010, and another one on November 18, also in 2010. The June 25 show I saw featured one of the near-headliners, multidisciplinary artist now known as Here Heather Marie (or “Here”), doing some type of experimental spoken word to a crowd of about 100-120 people on a summer Friday night.

2. When Chicago had its corporate entities embracing the Pitchfork Music Festival around 2010 and 2011, the Mortville founders, through the help of two unsung founders of a large DIY music festival that actually started in 2009---solo act artist, Rotten Milk and the members the jamband, Rotten Milk, realized that the event can be held at the 2106 address. From these two bands, Meg and Sara realized that the rules at the Pitchfork music event were too strict for them to do things like smoke marijuana or sell their own DIY merchandise—both actions that can get you ejected from Pitchfork. So with a hunch of me seeing Mortville a fair deal in its wide variety of shows, Meg and Sara, with the help of radical graphic artist, Rand Sevillla (who promoted two of these events through extremely bizarre promo videos of the festival), to make an anarchist-driven apathy to the traditional Pitchfork festival—at Mortville. There were thoughts about a pig with its ugly “oink” sound, a dirty pig-pen, and mud for some type of logo regarding an ultra-anarchist, ultra-crazy, ultra-wacky, ultra-outrageous music festival in reaction to the regular Pitchfork festival, and they got it—and it was the Bitchpork Festival.
         So with that, I researched a website (which still exists), called Pigeons and Planes, and found out that Mortville held two Bitchpork festivals—namely Bitchpork 3 and Bitchpork no. 4.
         According to Daniel Margolis, who wrote an article about the history of Bitchpork, Mortville’s Bitchpork no. 3 started really well on July 17 to July 19, 2009, when Lightning Bolt on July 17th bolted out its very heavy, very loud at-you ritual drumming to satisfy the very hungry crowd who came out of the Pitchfork festival to get what they wanted—and they got it in return. Sara and Meg loved it, I guessed it, from that first Bitchpork they curated in Mortville.
         The calvacade of DIY bands that appeared in Bitchpork 4 on July 15 to July 17th of 2011 (the second Bitchfork that Meg and Sara curated) ranged from the ultra-radical, screaming-at-you, noise-driven, crowd-intruding bands and projects (for instance, Forced into Feminity), all the way to DIY-driven modern EDM-driven jamrock projects like Chandeliers---and Mahjohgg, another jamband featuring the EDM wizardry of Hunter Husar (who made his stints mainly at the Bridgeport areas of Chicago; Mahjohgg is now defunct), who rocked the place on July 16th with a sort of Sound-Tribe-Sector-9 type of atmosphere with spectacular green-colored moving lights, and hard-hitting, coming-at-you, disco-driven drumbeats,  permeating the venue to attempt to make the whole place musically utopian. Specifically, according to Margolis, when the radical Bad Drugs, a radical punk band, played on Mortville’s roof outside, the crowd went as wild as what happened when the disco record blow-up on July 12, 1979 at Sox Park caused a near-riot. Then regrettably—you guessed it—Daniel stated that the 5-0 came in to almost bust the Bitchpork party, and the band was told not to play anymore on the roof on that Friday the 17th night, or that rest of the whole night will be busted. So the band decided to play inside on a very hot day and the fans had to deal with that—either that or they had to go home—as well as the band.
     In total, over 100 of Chicago’s DIY bands from a wide area of musical styles—from power-punk—to prog rock—to noise project—to experimental glam—embraced that rumpus-driven fest which was Bitchpork 3 and Bitchpork 4, and it was great especially for Meg and Sara!
      In the 1970s,  the word “bitch” –said out or written out, would have been edited or censored, but now, I am free to say it without limitation. Sorry, Super Bowl wardrobe malfunction!!!

3. May 13, 2011—was the memorable Mortville concert featuring a sort of shoegaze-driven post-rock ensemble (actually a drone-pop band) of 11 people which had a long title—Call Me On the Allphone/Names Divine, but they called it Names Divine for short. It was run by singer and droner Kendra Calhoun, and Jillian Musielak, a radical designer, on tom-tom drums. It actually featured 11 musician-members at its peak around 2010-2011, and some of its alumni included performance artist Right-Eyed Rita. When I saw Names Divine at Mortville, I started to like Jillian’s drumming, but Kendra’s wails were also enticing to me, because at 2011, I was starting to adore avant-garde and experimental music—not just traditional classical music, and that is another reason why I loved to go to Mortville. And a bonus—I was on the bill on that May 13 performing as DIY music project Mr. Forefinger, so this gave me a bit of a boost for me increasing my fanbase when I started that DIY music project at Cal’s Bar in 2010. (This bar is now permanently closed down.)

4.. On August 26, 2011, with the success of holding Bitchpork 3 and Bitchpork 4 fests, Sara and Meg hosted The Ultimate Badass Band Contest. With DIY musician Davitt Terrell as the curator of sorts, there were several judges which included Li’l Princess (who was the stage name for Meg at that time), Rotten Milk, Ray Ellingsen (a extremely strong Chicago DIY music superfan, who died in the fall of 2014), and a man only identified as Paul. When I saw the event at least once, the rules were simple: laptops and droning were prohibited, and you have to do your set for no more than 5 minutes. The contestant musicians were on either of the three stages, and the atmosphere for this wacky contest is that performers needed to prepare to get things thrown upon—like bits of paper all the way to probably something as wacky as stink bombs---to express disapproval. The contest was a cross between The Gong Show and Showtime at the Apollo, and the winner of this bizarre concourse would win an earning of being crowned The Ultimate Badass with a yellow crown with a tall spire of purple and white.

THE FACTORS THAT LED TO THE DEMISE OF THE FIRST MORTVILLE
       But you think Mortville would last forever? Sadly, according to Jessica Hopper’s and Leor Galil’s article in The Reader, dated June 27, 2012, called “Gossip Wolf—Burying Treasure Town”, carcass-cleaning property sellers, taking advantage of the precipitous drop in property values in the 2009 recession, started to target loft venues a few years after the recession—and even though Mortville was not forced to permanently shut down by the police even though the place did have dates with the cops in the past—these aggressive sellers honed in on Mortville, and the landlord (who remains unnamed) told Sara and Meg somewhere on June 2012—IT’S TIME TO GO! I did not know how these two ladies felt directly – but directly myself, I was extremely hurt that Mortville had to go—but I was also glad that I will not have to worry about going into a sort of dangerous place in Chicago which made this DIY venue its home. Treasure Town had to leave also with Mortville, and its last show there was on June 29, 2012, when I saw Vimeo footage of a band that I did not know that featured Ben Billington the drummer—but I found out that the band was a cover band called Naked Island. (Don’t find that band anywhere today on the WWW—it broke up after a short while.)  But I did not see it because it was so sad for me to go to see the last show. Meanwhile, Casa Donde—the lowest strata in the Mortville collective, also had to go too, and right now, the ReverbNation website for Casa Donde—literally dead-on-arrival, no more shows. The Oh My Rockness website for Treasure Town – also gone. No more shows there either. So sad, and so painful for me as a DIY music lover—AND performer!!!
       Even worse, Mayor Rahm Emanuel sealed the deathblow on the Mortville/Treasure Town/Casa Donde collective---with new ordinances that were backlashes to the struck-down 2008 Chicago Promoters’ Ordinance that would have destroyed almost anything DIY in Chicago anywhere if that decree was passed, and even worse, the G8 summit was going to happen in Chicago in August 2012, and that meant an extremely high-profile Department of Homeland Security event. With that, pre-G8 raids on some Chicago DIY venues including the Mortville collective happened—practically any venue that had even a hint of being flagged as an anarchist site was marked for being targeted, and Mortville was very highly—and very openly---anarchist.

WHAT HAPPENED AFTER THE OLD MORTVILLE WAS FORCED TO SAY GOOD-BYE?
     The loft building that made up the famous DIY venue collective that made up the first Mortville is now off the market so regrettably, Meg and Sara—the primary founders—are not allowed for a long time to go back to that building for any renaissance of its wild and willy actions that made Mortville “Mortville” for at least several years.
        But I can tell you a bit of what happened after Mortville came to an end—its founders, and a few of its regulars….
Jillian Musielak, one of the Call Me On The Allphone alumna who embraced Mortville,  went on to do some DIY music work under the name Sick Cakez, with several stints around the Pilsen area, and in one nondescript event, she almost teamed up with a radical Butoh artist, Rose Hernandez. She was also a fan of the defunct house venue, MTV Studios in west Pilsen, which was run by Joseph Blanski.
Meg McCarville, one of the Mortville co-founders, went on to be a quick fan of the Bijou theater in Chicago and she invited me to do a collaborative performance with me before Bijou closed down a few years prior. My hunch is that the worsening crackdowns on Chicago’s DIY world—the crackdowns that eventually did in the first Mortville--made her want to leave Chi-town, and she did, and she moved to New Orleans, living in a ultra-radical trailer home where she can freely express Mortville-related attitudes without even a bit of restraint.
Kendra Calhoun, another Call Me On The Allphone alumna who performed at Mortville, moved out of Chicago and currently released her new solo album, “Crazy For You” in 2015, which was a compilation of her original numbers.
Sara Heymann, the other founder of Mortville, had a deep passion for art and painting afterwards (since her joys of being with the defunct Land Line DIY newspaper), and created a house venue just south of Douglas Park called a second Mortville, but for obvious reasons, I am unable to tell you exactly where due to the Trump frenzy. I can tell you that a few years prior, Sara coined a new venue that lasted a few more years around 2015 to 2016, called “The Egg”, in a garage or in the backyard, or even in a slightly bigger loft behind the house. Performance artists and even some punk bands embraced the place, especially on summer days and nights. I was there for almost half of the approximately 50 or more events. Regrettably, Sara had to close down “The Egg” in late 2016 not because of the fears that the place may not have had a PPA permit or fears of cops busting down the place, but because she wants to focus full time passion of being a visual artist. 

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