No Expectations 124: The Space Between

New albums from Hannah Frances, Snõõper, and more. Plus, gig recaps including one one 10 years of 'Surf' and Nico Segal and the Social Experiment at Metro.

No Expectations 124 (cover image by Zack James)

No Expectations hits inboxes on Thursdays at 9am cst. Reader mailbag email: Noexpectationsnewsletter@gmail.com. Daily Chicagoan, the local news newsletter I produce at my day job with WTTW News (PBS Chicago), can be found here.

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Headline song: Hannah Frances, “The Space Between”

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Thanks for being here. It’s good to be back after a short breather. Instead of writing and publishing a new No Expectations last week, my home office (also a guest bedroom) housed a couple of bands from Monday through Friday. Yes, I know: it’s a little funny to skip your indie rock blog for indie rock-related reasons.

Since my girlfriend and I moved into this two-bedroom spot almost three years ago, we’ve made use of it and love hosting buds. For most of the 16 years I’ve lived in Chicago, I never had enough space for more than one person. Early in my 20s, bands would ask if they could crash, and I’d be in a bind of wanting to help but knowing I only had a shitty Ikea couch, a shared bathroom, and a fridge with just a six pack of Old Style and, like, an expired bottle of mustard. (I’d send them elsewhere, don’t worry). Now, in my thirties, the setup is actually comfortable and spacious. Tour sometimes sucks: the drives are long, gas is expensive, venue sound guys are often jerks, and the margins are thin. A cozy place to sleep, a warm shower, and good company can hopefully turn things around.

If a band asks and you have the space, you’re generally chill, friendly, and not weird, it’s good to offer a spot for burnt-out folks to rest. It makes a difference. We’re all in this together, and small acts of kindness are sustaining, both for those you’re helping and for you.

Here’s the spiel for new subscribers: Each week, you get a wildcard main essay (often new album recommendations), a 15-song playlist, as well as updates on what I’m listening to, watching, and reading. Sometimes you’ll get an interview with an artist I love, and other times it’ll be a deep dive into one band’s discography. Since I’m a Chicago-based writer, this newsletter is very Midwest-focused. So, if you live in this city too, you’ll also receive a curated roundup of upcoming local shows to check out.

Here’s where I politely ask for money: This newsletter is something I write in my spare time after work. It’s unpaywalled and remains that way due to the generosity of my readers. I am not in the business of gatekeeping. If you have the means and like what you read, you can sign up for a paid subscription. If your budget is tight, telling a friend about a band you found out about here is just as good. It’s still $5 a month—the cost of one Old Style plus tip at Rainbo Club. Every bit helps, keeps this project going, and allows it to stay paywall-free. It’s rough out there, so it means the world you’re reading and supporting this writing project.

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4 Albums Worth Your Time This Week

Hannah Frances, Nested in Tangles

At the end of every year, No Expectations purposefully ranks the best albums alphabetically, but if I had to choose a clear favorite from 2024, it’d be Hannah Frances’ Keeper of the Shepherd. It was a mystifying and dazzling collection of knotty folk that solidified her as a singular, uncompromising artist. It also earned her raves across the board, including a Best New Music designation from Pitchfork. When you have an artistic breakthrough like that, some songwriters choose to lean into crowdpleasing pop or try and fail to recreate the magic of that long past moment, but Frances decided to burrow even further into her meticulously crafted and intricate worldbuilding for a far more challenging but equally rewarding follow-up in Nested in Tangles. It’s a record that demands a front-to-back listen, one with clear standout tracks that truly come to life in the context of the whole. As a bandleader, Frances makes elegant and complex arrangements feel fluid and airy: her rich voice looming over a cornucopia of acoustic guitars, horns, strings, and jazz drums.

Single “Falling From and Further” comes the closest to the propulsiveness of Shepherd, but Frances and her ensemble of collaborators feel more confident and free to subvert the formula. Throughout a few of the songs, Grizzly Bear’s Daniel Rossen seamlessly provides guitar, proving his unorthodox style a kindred spirit to Frances. Some of the most jaw-dropping moments are when Frances slows things down, like on “Steady in the Hand,” or interstitial, largely instrumental tracks like “Beholden To” and “A Body, A Map.” There’s a cinematic level of drama and grandeur throughout the sequencing, and while many have tried to pull something similar off, only Frances has had the visionary talent to truly nail it.

RIYL: forest folk, intricate arrangements, goosebump-inducing vocals, stellar fingerpicking

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Prewn, System

Izzy Hagerup, the Los Angeles via Western Massachusetts songwriter behind the cello-rock project Prewn, performed and recorded everything on her nervy, gorgeous, and cathartic LP System. I’ve listened to this album dozens of times, not knowing this fact, and upon finding it out, I am even more enthralled by the nine tense but vibrant tracks here. So much here has the emotional valence of an open wound: tender but raw to the touch. Songs like “Dirty Dog” and “Cavity” are volatile and ferocious, with gnarled guitars and distorted vocals, but the title track swirls with strings, and Hagerup’s dynamically frayed delivery conveys each feeling with gusto. Elsewhere, the woozy “It’s Only You” serves as a showcase for Hagerup’s massive, idiosyncratic voice. She has few peers for her range, command, and personality, except for maybe Lily Seabird and Dead Gowns’ Geneviève Beaudoin.

RIYL: bellowing cellos, knotty, ribcage-rattling guitars, the endless possibilities of indie rock

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Snõõper, Worldwide

The truly great rock bands usually have a transportive visual component to go along with their impeccable songs. The Grateful Dead have the Stealie and the Dancing Bears. The Rolling Stones have their Hot Lips logo, but Nashville’s art-punk collective Snõõper have a zany, distinctive cast of papier-mâché puppets courtesy of frontwoman Blair Tramel. But beyond their colorful, off-kilter aesthetics, Snõõper have been consistently churning out funny, raucous, and infectious rippers since they formed in 2020. Worldwide, their sophomore LP, skitters with gleeful intensity throughout its dozen synthy tracks. Produced by John Congleton, a master at allowing singular artists to focus their sound, it marks the first time the band recorded with outside help. Here, instead of softening the edges of their blitzing, deriliously melodic punk, they double down on what makes them thrive: frenetic rhythms (courtesy of drummer Brad Barteau), pogo-ing vocals from Tramel, and searing riffs. Dizzying feedback kicks off “Company Car” as Tramel tears through her lines at a breathless pace, while the title track rattles with bass as Tramel sings, “Left / Right / Miss / Worldwide / Pressure! / Both Sides / This way that way / Wild ride.” Think DEVO meets Guerilla Toss but played at 1.5x speed.

RIYL: Papier-mâché, DEVO, weird Nashville

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Will Lawrence, Rooftops in the Centerfold

Will Lawrence is a New York-based songwriter who’s also the live drummer for the Felice Brothers and Ryan Davis & The Roadhouse Band. He put out his latest LP, the understated, lovely, and masterful folk of Rooftops in the Centerfold, via Davis’ Sophomore Lounge label. Nestled somewhere between the rootsy plainspokenness of Doug Paisley, the woodwind-assisted storytelling of Andy Shauf, and the soulful pop of Labi Siffre, Lawrence mines a dusky, nostalgic, and tasteful palette throughout the eight tracks here. “Yellow Moon” is pocked by a welcome theremin and Lawrence’s soothing falsetto cues, while the buoyant “Only a Dream I Had” is anchored by peppy piano chords. The sparse, winsome closer “True Love Don’t Disappear” highlights Lawrence’s lyrical prowess, with heartfelt lines like, “I never thought they’d catch me moving back here / Until I saw you in every movement it was so clear / True love don’t disappear.” If you dug newsletter favorite LPs from this year like Sam Moss’ Swimming or Will Stratton’s Points of Origin, you’ll love this too.

RIYL: acoustic guitars, riding into a full moon, morning coffee

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What I listened to:

The No Expectations 124 Playlist: Apple Music // Spotify // Tidal

1. Geese, “Cobra”
2. Prewn, “Cavity”
3. Snõõper, “Star 6 9”
4. Lawn, “Lonely River Blues”
5. Caution, “Mind Like a Tool”
6. Cusp, “In A Box”
7. Joyer, “At The Movies”
8. Angela Autumn, “Millionaire Money”
9. Sam Moss, “Swimming”
10. Will Lawrence, “Only A Dream I Had”
11. Liam Kazar, “Didn’t I”
12. Stella Donnelly, “Year of Trouble”
13. Hannah Frances, Daniel Rossen, “The Space Between”
14. Grace Rogers, “Westport”
15. Blue Lake, Jason Dungan, “Cut Paper”

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Gig recap: Greg Freeman, Grandaddy at Thalia Hall (10/7)

Whether he’s by himself with a full band, Greg Freeman puts on a spectacular live show. Few indie rock artists perform with as much galvanizing energy as the Burlington songwriter. While I’ve seen him play nearly a dozen times since we first met in early 2023, he hasn’t been in town since he opened solo acoustic for A. Savage at the Empty Bottle in November ‘24. His band rolled into Chicago Monday night for two shows at Thalia Hall, opening for Grandaddy Tuesday and Thursday. I caught the first gig. While Freeman’s been playing Burnover cuts since the summer of 2023, it was amazing to hear some of the newer tunes like “Rome, NY” and how a piano-less arrangement of “Curtain” still soared thanks to multi-instrumentalist Cam Gilmour and steel maestro Ben Rodgers. New bassist Garrett Linck was a sturdy addition to the rhythm section. I’d never seen headliner Grandaddy before, but they were excellent, playing their beloved 2000 LP Sophtware Slump in full. I think I’m due for a deep dive: I only knew cuts from 1997’s Under the Western Freeway.

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Gig recap: Beaming, Goon at Schubas (10/9)

I’ve known Beaming’s Braden Lawrence for 12 years. His old band, the Districts, was one of the first acts I really championed early in my career, and we’ve kept in touch ever since. He’s in Los Angeles now, and last year, he sent me a Soundcloud link to an EP from his new band, Beaming. The songs blew my mind, but what really shocked me was that he was collaborating with Derek Ted, whom I met in 2019 when he opened up for Friend of Newsletter, Field Medic, in Chicago. I had no idea they were all friends, and it was a major, “wow, small world” realization. Last Thursday, Beaming played their third-ever show, opening up for newsletter favorite Goon. Both sets were phenomenal. Beaming play with a simple setup: Braden and Derek trade vocals and guitar licks as pre-programmed drums and bass blare from an onstage laptop, allowing the obvious breeziness of their airtight pop songs to shine. They ripped through all the songs off their debut EP, along with a couple of unreleased tunes that are already stuck in my head.

Compared to the cloudy and lush shoegaze of Goon’s latest LP, Dream 3, their live show is even louder and more pummeling, but it still manages to capture the studio record’s clear beauty. It was my first time seeing this band, and it definitely won’t be my last. Hearing the explosiveness and shocking heaviness of songs like “Patsy’s Twin” and “Sunsweeping” ruled.

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Gig recap: Nico Segal and the Social Experiment at Metro (10/11)

10 years ago, I was a 23-year-old music reporter for RedEye Chicago. It’s a Tribune-owned alt-daily that no longer exists, but there I covered the city’s burgeoning and cross-pollinating indie rock and hip-hop music communities. A good chunk of my job was also keeping tabs on how Chance the Rapper would follow up on his breakthrough project, Acid Rap. Even though I was making $36,000, I loved the job, and witnessing the immense creativity flowing through my city, and getting to write about it every day, made me feel like I was on top of the world. While I put artists like Saba, Noname, Smino, Jamila Woods, and others on the cover of the paper, there aren’t many albums I wrote about then that I loved more than Nico Segal and the Social Experiment’s Surf. That’s a record that sounds like Chicago. It captures both the endless possibilities of collaboration but also the vitality, resilience, and spirit of the city’s youth. While I caught one Northerly Island Chance show that featured several Surf cuts alongside a Kendrick Lamar guest slot, there hasn’t been an official show featuring most of the artists involved with that album until its 10-year anniversary.

I can’t believe it’s already been a decade. When I first heard it, Surf felt vital. After finally seeing it live, it still does. It’s been a long time since I immersed myself in that particular scene, and I haven’t written about Chance or many of his collaborators since 2019. But entering Metro, I immediately ran into so many familiar faces, and kept getting hit with countless memories of that collectively formative era of Chicago life. Nico Segal is a gifted trumpeter and an exquisite composer who led a sprawling band and a rotating cast of collaborators throughout the Surf tracklist and other favorite cuts. Chance featured throughout, and it was great to see Jamila Woods, DRAM, Joey Purp, Maceo Vidal-Haymes, Mike Golden, Vic Mensa, and more grace the stage. The vibes were impossibly high. Of course, they ended with “Sunday Candy,” a song even my Grandpa likes.

I kept thinking back to how I felt at 23, hearing this LP for the first time. I was riding high from being able to cover all this exciting music and thought that it could only go up from here. A year and a half later, despite breaking traffic records and being one of the more prolific writers on staff, I was laid off in a cost-cutting measure. It was devastating, but it took time and hard work to realize that better things were on the horizon. Seeing the winding, unpredictable road the artists involved in Surf embarked on since that album came out, I’m sure some feel similarly. You have plans in your early twenties that don’t pan out, but you realize you’re better off that it worked out the way it did. You’re now just grateful to be able to reflect back and give grace to who you were a decade earlier. The Surf show made me appreciate how Chicago’s music scene can still surprise and thrill, how youthful optimism is something to hold onto, and how albums can still resonate 10 years later.

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What I watched:

Menus-Plaisirs – Les Troisgros (directed by Frederick Wiseman, streamed on PBS Passport)

Frederick Wiseman is a 96-year-old filmmaker behind 46 documentaries (City Hall, High School, Central Park, Titicut Follies) and two fiction features. I’ve long been curious about his work and finally realized that his latest doc, 2023’s Menus-Plaisirs – Les Troisgros, was on PBS Passport. Released when Wiseman was 93, this four-hour documentary provides a behind-the-scenes look at the famed French restaurant Troisgros, which has held three Michelin stars for 57 consecutive years since 1968. This is a gorgeous film: the still-life establishing shots are stunning, the patient world-building between the chefs, the farmers, the cheese and wine producers, the staff, the property, and its customers is all wholly immersive. I could’ve watched four more hours of these people who are so good at what they do, so knowledgeable, and so passionate about doing things the right way. It’s aspirational and also surprisingly affecting in how the film’s focus shifts from craft to passing things on to new generations, loving your family, and taking moments to appreciate what you have and what you’ve built.

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What I read:

Grand Rapids (by Natasha Stagg)

I picked up Grand Rapids, the second novel from the well-liked New York writer Natasha Stagg, for two reasons. 1). I grew up there, and anytime my past city is mentioned, I’ll check it out. Hell, I even watched a pretty mediocre Michigan-set, Nicole Kidman movie this year called Holland because my sister lives there. And 2). I’m slightly embarrassed to admit this, but in college, I wanted to write a coming-of-age novel called Grand Rapids. I’m glad I didn’t, and Stagg did. She captures the aimlessness and desperation of being a teenager better than most. The story follows a grieving 15-year-old named Tess who moved to post-9/11, pre-social media Grand Rapids with her mom, who soon dies of cancer. Tess works at a nursing home/mental health facility (she doesn’t name it, but anyone from West Michigan knows which one), frequents a 24-hour coffee shop with her friends (it’s gotta be the Bitter End), and yearns for something real. Mixed in with Stagg’s tender and evocative prose is a sense of menace and danger that creeps in throughout until a shocking third-act crescendo. I found the whole thing quite moving and staggeringly true-to-life.

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The Weekly Chicago Show Calendar:

The gig calendar lives on the WTTW News website now. You can also subscribe to the newsletter I produce there called Daily Chicagoan to get it in your inbox a day early.