Record release shows are a very special breed of show. There’s something a bit more magical in the air on rarified nights like those, and it may very well be that extra helping of love and excitement being tossed up by the band’s friends and family, but really, who is to say? I always feel a bit conspicuous at local release shows because it’s usually quite obvious how 90% of the crowd consists of relatives, friends, and friends of relatives, and here I am alone with my phone, taking down notes in my Notion app nonchalantly. I wouldn’t say that’s a bad thing, to be so conspicuous, but I mainly just get a kick out of record release shows being the ultimate fly on the wall of a moment almost too precious and singular for the general public, even though I’m sure there’s always a fair share of those patrons in attendance, as well.
Case Oats, the brightest and shiniest new y’alternative musical act out of Chicago, released their debut album, Last Missouri Exit, on August 22 off Merge Records and played their record release show at The Hideout on the same night. They had done two record release shows prior in Toronto and New York City, but those shows didn’t have all their friends, family, and relatives in attendance (presumably). The Hideout is usually the home base of operations for the indie folk and Americana scene in Chicago for both local acts and out-of-towners, so I couldn’t think of a better venue for Casey Gomez Walker and her Oats.
Although the band just released their debut album this year, they have been in existence, writing, recording, and playing songs under the Case Oats moniker since 2018. I won’t get into the utter and sheer brilliance of Last Missouri Exit in full here since I did a separate review for that already, but I will say that the album sure does sound like one that took eight hard, grueling, and priceless years to make, because the end result is nothing short of inspired, impassioned, and glorious folk. There are so many bands in the alt-country, indie twang, Americana-inspired indie folk/rock space now, but Case Oats finds a way to be different; they find a way to cut through the static to deliver a deeply personal, darkly humorous, impeccably performed, and passionately written ten-song slab of folk music that you won’t soon forget.
For some much-welcomed juxtaposition, Case Oats had local avant-garde noise rock trio TV Buddha open for their special night. The avant-garde style really comes through on their studio recordings, but live, they sound like the loudest Britpop band you’ve ever heard with a delightful vintage aesthetic. For example, their 2024 single “Baby, Woah!” on record is very moody, methodical, brooding, and experimental, but it was almost the complete opposite of all those adjectives live. They played much faster, with an almost DIY, bubblegum punk vibe that brought to mind such older acts as The Raincoats and newer ones like Chicago’s own Horsegirl. I admire a band that is able to do both and pull them off so well. It takes a lot of talent and passion to make experimental, avant-garde, noise rock with a pop flair on record, but then twist and pull all that noise into a glistening punk fever dream live, all without losing the core ethos and pathos of it all. Although I didn’t recognize too many songs they played, TV Buddha were extremely fun to watch perform with their frequent theatrical jumps, kicks, and Rock ‘N’ Roll power stances. They only played six songs, but they played each with such gusto, joy, and intensity that by the end of their set, lead singer and guitarist Johnson Rockstar was bleeding all over their pick-guard. Now, that is punk rock.
In the midst of tearing down TV Buddha’s gear and setting up for Case Oats, Casey Gomez Walker’s parents installed several vases of handpicked wildflowers, driven all the way from the bustling plains of Missouri, just to make Casey feel more at home; a sweeter sight I have never been privileged to see. It’s hard to set the tone for a performance before the music has even begun, but the outpouring of love and support from Casey’s family and friends was so beautiful to see. Casey came on stage with guitarist and local pedal steel aficionado Max Subar for a pre-full band duet of a long forgotten, underrated, and quite dusty 1971 Neil Young tune called “Love in Mind”, recorded and performed live for his Live at Massey Hall album and also later released as a bonus track on the 50th anniversary reissue of Harvest. I’m not the most well-read Neil Young fan, but I do know quite a bit of his catalogue and had never once heard this song before, but I was sold from the very first lyric alone: “I woke up this morning with love in mind”. Neil originally recorded it on piano, so this version was much folkier, and now, having listened to the original, I think I prefer Casey’s for that little extra helping of whimsy that her voice gives, coupled, of course, with Subar’s poetic strumming. Once they finished their Neil Young cover, Casey, believing honesty is the best policy, told the crowd they’d be playing through the whole album plus some new songs and covers at the end for good measure, and before I knew it, off we were to the races.
If you haven’t had the pleasure of listening to Case Oat’s debut record, Last Missouri Exit, then that really sucks for you. On the bright side, you at least have the good fortune of not having to read my long-winded ten-song rant on why it’s one of the best albums of the year and one of the most joyous debuts in recent memory. I’m not going to go through every single song and blush about how great its performance sounded because every song off the album sounded great. I will, however, try and give you the highlights as best I can.
Both “Nora” and “Bitter Root Lake”, two of the four singles from the album, felt like songs the band was absolutely dying to perform. They are the second and third songs on the album, so it’s not only because they’re songs propped high up in the setlist to be played by eager, excited musicians, but because they both have such wonderfully catchy pop sensibilities riding shotgun to their twangy Americana undertones that the two sound so damn fun to play. “Bitter Root Lake” seemed especially fun for Casey as she brought her dad up to play saxophone, and he brought such extreme heat to the performance that it left me confused as to why he wasn’t on the actual album. You could tell her dad had about 40 plus years flowing from his fingers down through his sound hole right to our ears, and it was such a treat to watch him support his daughter and play with her band. These two songs were also the most known by the crowd out of the rest of the album, so there was a great big enthusiastic energy from everyone that I think Casey and the band really connected to, which affirmed to them why they do what they do.
“Kentucky Cave”, my least favorite song on the album, sounded so much richer and vibrant live, while one of my album favorites, “Wishing Stone”, tore up the joint in a hail of friendly folk fire. Walker’s father came back on stage for an all-around dazzling performance of “In a Bungalow”, a song written about her hometown in Missouri prefaced by a harrowing yet amusing tale of the road concerning the two shows they played before their hometown Chicago album release show that simply ended in a plea from Walker to the audience to remember to renew your AAA membership because you never know when you’re going to need it! “Tennessee” and “Hallelujah” kept the home fires burning as we approached the end of the album. Hearing that “Hallelujah” was about her sister’s troublesome history with choosing quality men was cute and wholesome, knowing all her family was in the audience and that her sister did eventually end up finding the one. I touched on the anger that is so upfront and apparent in the song in my album review, so it was nice to learn of the origins of that anger. Knowing it was just about her struggling to find the words to tell her sister that the men she dates are absolutely awful, and choosing instead to save her opinions until after the inevitable breakup, made me chuckle.
Out of all the album tracks I knew I’d be hearing that night, I was most excited for “Bluff”. As I noted in my album review, “Bluff” is one of my favorite songs of recent memory and I was so curious to hear how they were going to both introduce and perform the song, whether they would go the long and quiet path of a lovely introduction leading in to a quaint, minimalist performance, or give the song little to no introduction leading into a full-band performance. I honestly would have loved it if they did two performances just to cover all my theoretical bases but Casey ended up giving the song a lovely introduction talking about how this was the first song Case Oats ever wrote when she penned the track with her fiancé Spencer Tweedy seven years prior, a memory I’m sure the two of them treasure knowing how the song turned out. Casey and Spencer performed the song together without a full band and without Spencer on drums, but instead providing a delicate backing to Casey’s expressive vocals. It was going to be hard to beat that performance going into the show with the high expectations I already had, and I have to say I was right; it really was the best performance of the night for me, but some of the encore performances were trying really hard to call my bluff.
Casey and her band played five songs for their encore, and I believe only one of the songs was a cover, but I really don’t know for certain. “Closer Than You Think” was an utterly rocking and groove-heavy number that served to snatch the audience’s attention back from the transition period between regular set and encore. That song, in particular, had me fully appreciating the magic that Spencer Tweedy brings behind the kit. I have seldom enjoyed watching a drummer more than Tweedy, and it’s not just because he’s highly skilled and talented at what he does, but because he just carries himself with such grace behind the kit, often drumming with his eyes completely closed going off pure feeling, hitting the drums with such dynamism, and putting in so much effort into songs that you wouldn’t necessarily think were that complex from just an initial listen.
Once the encore was properly underway, Casey wanted to take a moment to round up and hand out all her thank yous for not only the show but for the album in general. She had at least two or three pages of handwritten notes that she read to the crowd, and it was touching seeing someone so humble, modest, and appreciative of all the supportive people in her life who got her to where she is today. Last, but certainly not least, she thanked her Tío, who recently passed away, for being the one who instilled her love for music and creativity at such an early age. He passed around the time the album was being recorded, and you could tell his passing hit Walker extremely hard, as I have never seen an artist so emotionally naked on stage as she was at that moment, struggling so hard to hold back tears that overcame her in the end. Her tears led to a few moments of silence as she tried her best to regain her composure, but I hope she knows it wasn’t awkward or an inconvenience to the audience; I thought it was such a beautiful display of passion and purpose that all artists have but sometimes can’t exactly find the words to properly express, but Walker completely bearing herself on stage amplified Last Missouri Exit that much more for me.
As if it wasn’t hard enough talking about her Uncle, she introduced the next song, “Tiny”, as one dedicated to the memory of a friend who tragically passed far too young. “Tiny”, much like the song she played after, “Past Life Regression”, had a slower, melancholic, and contemplative feel that served to amplify all the love, fellowship, and gratitude she displayed on stage just minutes before. Predicting how hard it would be to get through that thank you speech, Casey put a cover of the epic The Clash song, “Lost In The Supermarket”, up next as a punky palette cleanser, and oh, how it did work. I have never been a big fan of The Clash, only having known and listened to a few of their songs in high school, but I absolutely adored their folked-up cover of “Lost In The Supermarket” and the supreme and fervent aggression it inspired in Casey, especially.
Closing out the night on the highest of notes, the band played, what I believe to be, a new original called “Wonderful Things”, and if “Bluff” never existed, this song would be the performance I would crown “Winner, winner, chicken dinner”. Walker brought out her father again to rip it up on the sax, and if there was one theme you could pick out of Case Oat’s set, it was that Casey, and the whole band for that matter, play even more enthusiastically when her dad is on stage with them. I don’t remember much about the song musically, but what I can’t forget is just how exponentially explosive the song got as it went on. By the very end, Walker had collapsed on stage, hidden behind a bed of Missouri wildflowers, muttering the lyric, “I still dream wonderful things”. As the song picked up the pace, she descended triumphantly into the crowd, screaming how she still dreams wonderful, wonderful things, all while dancing and jumping her big ol’ heart out. After her brief, yet electrifying trip down into the pit, Casey walked back on stage and closed out the song properly with her dad by her side, and that was the night.
Local album release shows are always so special, and although they are often hard to compare, this one ranked among my favorites for so many tiny, little reasons. It’s such an honor and a treat to get the chance to witness an artist in a special moment with all their family and friends around, to see what they do with all that love they’re getting from the audience, and how that translates into their performance. Casey Gomez Walker and her whole band of misfits are very much surrounded by all the love, respect, and admiration they deserve, and they showed us all, in a dazzling display of musicianship, how all that love felt. It truly made me feel lucky that I get to be a fly on the wall of this magical local music scene and community that I admire so dearly.
All photos by Lorenzo Zenitsky.
