Photo credit: Chelsie Layman
In much the same way that Record Store Day, also happening this week, is supposed to be about raising interest in independent music stores all year round and not just annually fleecing suckers with overpriced collectables, the success of Milwaukee Day should really be measured by its effect on the other 364 calendar days. It’s easy to drum up enthusiasm and civic pride when the cameras are rolling, but once business as usual resumes, we as a city, musically and culturally speaking, tend to revert to one of two equally unproductive modes of thought, either apocalyptic pessimism or blinkered optimism. Whatever your default attitude however, both sides would likely agree that major venues booking more local acts, and on dates that don’t happen to coincide with our area code, would be a step in the right direction, especially since shows as well-stocked as Thursday’s at Turner Hall Ballroom would probably fare better without all the pomp and circumstance.
After an all-too-brief appearance from charter school Escuela Verde’s youthful Skai Academy band (and after Mark Waldoch sang the national anthem), Space Raft got the Milwaukee Day proceedings started in earnest. Fresh off a perhaps unlikely stint opening for Democratic underdog Bernie Sanders as well as a new album, the Dusty Medical recording artists showed off their winning brand of well-crafted alt-pop, overlaid with a kind of soft-focus psychedelia, to an appreciative and decent-sized crowd. As more people gradually arrived, some distracted by the Mondo Lucha photo booth or the craft fair upstairs or the what have you, powerhouse singer Lex Allen took the stage. Though he has long laced various Milwaukee acid-rap tracks with his peculiar brand of R&B, his impressive solo material, such as “This is Our Year” or the strong new single “Cream and Sugar,” took center stage here, sounding especially good thanks to the full Funkadelic-esque backing band.
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From here on out the attendance level seemed to rise and fall, from substantial to scarcely anyone at all and vice versa, although each of the three remaining acts still clearly enjoyed some attention from outside their usual following, beginning with buzzed-about tuneful indie-rockers Midnight Reruns. Following them was seemingly indestructible hip-hop crew Def Harmonic, who after all these years still masterfully blend space-age textures with bombastic boom-bap; and rounding out the overstuffed evening was surf-inflected local-boys-made-good Jaill, who, following releases on Sub Pop and Burger, moved over to Infinity Cat for their latest, January’s well-received Wherever It Be. Overall it felt like a few months worth of local shows stuffed into one, but at the same time something that could be tweaked into a regular feature. Should there be fewer bands? Sure. Should it start later than 6? Absolutely. But the real question is: Why don’t we do this sort of thing more often?
