Merce Lemon

*All events are 21+ valid ID required for entry*

7 PM – Doors
8 PM – Show

MERCE LEMON

When asked how the city of Pittsburhg has inspired her creative practice, she responds with a characteristic joke wrapped in an earthen warmth – “There are big hills, three rivers, and more bridges than anywhere in the whole world.” Growing up in a family of art and music in a city with a small, but vigorously supportive scene, Merce has been going to shows here her whole life, even playing them with the “grown up” friends of her parents – as recently as a few years ago, her band was comprised of her own father and his peers in the Pittsburgh music community.
Merce took a step back in 2020, after releasing her last album Moonth, to reassess during an era of anxiety and lockdown – even the reliably nourishing exercise of releasing and playing music felt precarious. “I was grappling with what kind of relationship I wanted with music in my life. It was just something I’d always done, and I didn’t want to lose the magic of that – but I was just having less fun.” In this time of restless confusion, she turned her gaze inwardly, down to the roots – figuratively and literally.
“I got dirty and slept outside most of the summer. I learned a lot about plants and farming, just writing for myself, and in that time I just slowly accumulated songs.” A never-ending creative hunger, supported by the community framework she’d always been able to depend on, had been newly fertilized by the wide-eyed inspiration that came from plunging her hands into both the earth’s soil and her own. Rooting around for an answer, finding and turning in her palms what had been buried there all along – from this rediscovery, imbued with the vitality of earth’s green magic, Watch Me Drive Them Dogs Wild sprouted forth.

GREG FREEMAN

“Greg Freeman deals in biblical deluges, apocalyptic fever dreams, Floridian miscreants, and green mountain malaise. On his excellent debut LP “I Looked Out,” Gregs’s voice takes center stage, creaking, crooning, and cutting through clouds of static. The songs are linked together by a palpable urgency, whether it is the punch-in-the-face, careening momentum of “Tower,” the country-gazing guitar squall of “Souvenir Heart,” or the singalong finale of “Palms.” Careful arrangements and production choices bring out the best of the 7-piece band that ornament the album with pedal steel, horns, eerie strings, and tape warbles. Greg’s strong narrative songwriting is equally effective chronicling the demise of a 1920s ocean liner as it is documenting his own interpersonal uncertainties. The sounds on the record conjure up the feeling of driving around Chittenden County in the middle of winter, high beams on, slush on the floor mats. It’s hard for me to imagine a more promising debut record, and I can’t wait to see where this band goes next.” – Garrett Linck

MARY ST MARY

Philadelphia, PA