The sounds of the city. To some, they might be a firetruck’s siren wailing down the block; car horns being used as if everyone had been given a piece of sheet music called “Chicago: Get the Fuck Out of My Way”; and dogs barking at one another while their owners exchange eye contact and give the “my dog won’t hurt your dog” look, or the “this dog is walking me and I really have no idea what’s about to happen” look.
Whatever your personal urban soundtrack is, I can promise you this—if you’re ever walking down the street and hear what sounds like Duke Ellington peeking through the fog of the discourse, it’s worth stopping and following your ears. I recently had that experience on the sidewalk of Newport Avenue. My old friend Evan Crafts had just started playing for the opening weekend of Porchfest, a summer concert series held on the steps of old homes in Chicago’s Lakeview neighborhood, and those opening notes cut cleanly through the city’s hubbub. The owner offered up beers, and we grabbed Revolution Brewing’s Rev Pils for the summer heat. As crispy as the 5.5% German-style Pilsner was, the music was crispier.
