The Inconvenience (artistic syndicate)

Bohemia: A fallacy in our heads? In underground Chicago, Bohemia is not dead.

Last night I had the pleasure of attending a night themed "Down and Out in Chicago" at loft dubbed The Inconvenience, which is run by the dedicated and artistic dwellers of the space. I'd attended one other showcase-like night right before Christmas this year, and was excited to find myself immersed in what society on the outside might call a throwback to the true Bohemian lifestyle of the '90s. "I can feel the love" was a common phrase uttered by the attendees that night.

"Down and Out in Chicago" opened with a welcoming speech by Inconvenience dweller Walter (and another roommate whose name I've yet to learn) and followed by a comedic essay delivered by a woman approaching her late 20s. Her words, though funny, offered a poignant yet comforting perspective to the crowd of young artists encircling the small thrust stage. "The new Depression may do us some good....because I know that when my friends offer themselves in any way to my day or my life in between their three jobs, they really mean it." I wish I could remember her name because she writes and speaks in such a manner that is both grossly hilarious and soulfully uplifting.

The show continued as the "audience" followed a floating house down the loft toward a stage at the back of the space, where a band consisting of two guitars and a singer was set up.

Progressive Theatre may be a term for this kind of night, as the audience and artists are always moving throughout the space, relocating from stage to stage to a chair in between. It may sound a little chaotic, but there is a stage manager, a set list, and a time limit that the producers take care in trying to abide.

Standouts from the night included acoustic music from the rhythmically aggressive Ryan Murphy, whose lyrics appear to take a sarcastic look at life and love while staying true to the feelings that lie underneath. His song "I'll Sleep When I Die" is danceable yet the title alone offers itself to a more poetic point of view on this singer/songwriter's outlook on life.

Another almost impromptu standout was the harmonica styling offered by Andrew Taylor, who belted out the blues in between sweet rocking licks. There were moments when his groove hit so hard that the members of the audience couldn't resist to offer accompanying percussion in the form of foot stomping and hand claps. His lyrics about losing a love who didn't even know his name fell secondary to his soulful outburst in the harmonica solo. This kid could play forever, inviting us all to some part of his heart along his own musical journey in and out of a simple metallic device. Who knew a white kid who could scream the blues while circling his hips in time to a slow blues jam would be one of the sexiest moments in a night full of sexy people.

When one gets tired of focusing on a musical act or spoken word on one of the stages, there is plenty of visual art displayed along all of the walls for enjoyment. I'm still unsure as to whether or not this artwork can be purchased, but given the environment of which it is displayed, the artist can be found and and arrangement made.

I would take care to remember who is showcasing their talents at these nights, which are rumored to now happen every second Sunday of every month, with more information on an under construction website. The music heard, paintings displayed and words written are those that while in the experimental phase now, may just be found at the top of our new, booming artistic Rennaissance in the middle of the Second Great Depression.