Codeine, The Empty Bottle, 2024: A Triple Loveletter

I. Codeine

The first time I remember listening to sad music to compliment my emotions was when I was 14, on the Red Line L-train out of Chicago, in June of 2010. In my ratted, once-white, corded iPod touch headphones was the April album by Sun Kil Moon, and the opening track ‘Lost Verses’ began to melodramatically soundtrack feelings of confusion and regret (for the New Order heads, the sonic representations of those two were not in consideration). I had just cheated on my current girlfriend for the second time, with the same girl. Being unfaithful is a horrible thing, but as you just read, I was 14. So making myself feel like I was in a canceled CW teen drama or a Sundance-snubbed indie film was maybe a bit of an overreaction for a “girlfriend” I had been with less than a month. Regardless, I knew I had fucked up. I did the only right thing I could do a few days later and broke it off, and then me and the new girl made ourselves official. She had to do the same with her boyfriend, too. This would be the beginning of a far-too heavily involved ten-month relationship for two high school freshmen. Three months into that stretch, we cheated on each other, broke up for three weeks, then got back together for the remaining seven months. That was the last time I ever cheated on a partner. Looking back, I’m certain that our run together negatively warped my perspective on romantic relationships throughout high school, an already confusing time for figuring out how to navigate life. I feel the need to stress, one final time: I was 14. So a bit of my reflection on this seems objectively silly, like it was some milquetoast suburbanite version of Euphoria.

When that relationship finally crumbled in the Spring of 2011 (the ultimate cause of death? head lice!), I turned back to music to get me through it. Again, there were some melodramatic moments. House Of Balloons by The Weeknd had just dropped, an absolutely perfect type of album to listen to when you’re feeling sad at the hand of your own poor choices. More significantly, Type O Negative’s October Rust was in heavy rotation, and I have a distinct memory of catatonically laying in my bed listening to the song ‘Haunted,’ like it even remotely had anything to do with my present state.

In the first few months of my sophomore year, I learned about depression and its symptoms, and lining them up with exactly what I had been feeling. When the school year began, I don’t think I was depressed over the breakup anymore. I could tell this was a different type of feeling, something stagnant in my brain that was distracting me from enjoying the end of my fifteenth year. I’m not exactly sure how I got there, whether I was intentionally looking for “the best depressing albums” or it showed up to me organically, but I believe it was a Tumblr post that had a photo of Codeine’s final album The White Birch. Even though I was already into bands like Low and the aforementioned Sun Kil Moon, I don’t think “slowcore” was in my musical vocabulary yet. And even to this day, I think I’ve barely scratched the surface outside of some of the more iconic artists and albums. What I do remember is that I heard the seven-minute opening track ‘Sea’ after seeing the band name and album art, and I was all in. It was totally unlike any sort of ‘90s emo or sad indie rock that I had heard up to that point.

A few months later, while visiting family in Arizona, I got to visit the iconic Zia Records franchise. Up on the wall they had the recently released When I See The Sun box set, Numero Group’s comprehensive document of all known Codeine recordings. I’m not sure if I had allowance saved up or a bit of shopping per diem for vacation, but I ended up purchasing it and it safely made its way back home with me. It was the perfect kind of archival release, before multi-disc box sets were being released every week at ridiculous prices like they are now. Each album remastered with a second disc of bonus material, plus a CD version housed in a die-cut pouch in its respective album jacket. Pre-order versions came with an exclusive 7” single that I was able to find used later on, and for Record Store Day 2013 a live album entitled What About The Lonely? was released (and of course purchased by me). In my media-crowded teenage bedroom was the entire works of the band that helped me better understand my emotions in a difficult but formative period in my life.

Fast-forward to the winter of 2016-2017, in my first Chicago apartment. I’m between full-time jobs, unable to make my rent without finding quick solutions. So goes When I See The Sun, the 7”, and the live album, sold and shipped off to one of my closest friends. If it had to go someone, I’m glad it was him. As crushing as it was for me at the time, I don’t think I’ve wistfully thought about it since…

II. the Empty Bottle

I have seen an unbelievable crop of shows at the Empty Bottle in Chicago. It’s a very small venue, just a few hundred folks to max it out, and to the uninitiated it could appear to be a bit of a dive. But the music they get in there is out of this world, the room sounds great, and the team there always works hard to deliver a memorable experience. I’ve seen three of my top ten bands there as part of intimate underplays (Guided By Voices, The Hold Steady, The Mountain Goats), reunion shows and one-off stints (Brainiac, Chisel, Feedtime), and limited touring acts graciously passing through the Midwest (The Austerity Program, Liturgy, Nouvelle Vague). Because I have a full-time music venue job now, finding time to check out concerts of my choosing has been getting harder and harder these days. My only options without asking for days off are shows on the venue’s dark days, or shows that begin late enough for me to make it there after my shift. Thankfully, the Bottle’s headliners usually start between 10:00 and 11:00 pm, which was an absolute drag when I was getting up at 6:00 am for my warehouse job last year, but now it’s exactly what I need. It’s the perfect type of room to make a strong connection with a band in, and the perfect type of room for Codeine to play.

It would be unwise for me to not first mention Helen Money, the Chicago-based support act for the night. I had only seen her once before, back in 2019 when she opened for post-rock stalwarts Grails. She was unknown to me at the time, but I became an instant fan. Money plays experimental and industrial cello music, with an array of effects pedals helping her out in the live setting. Her set was once again fantastic, and she included a couple new songs that I’m sure will sound wonderful on record. Empty Bottle is pretty much an anything-goes venue, where any type of band can play with any other type of band, so it didn’t feel like an out of place choice at all to have Money start the show.

As I noted before, the Bottle is a small place. For their heavily sold out shows like this one, it’s hard to get a clear viewpoint if you don’t make it in early. Somehow, I had beaten most of the crowd and took my place right at the front of the stage. It’s not my favorite spot to be for every show there, but there are definitely times where it was powerful to be that close (like drone-doomers Earth, for example, another one of my favorite bands I’ve gotten to see there twice).

I can’t remember the last time I felt a band’s collective first note in a live setting surge throughout my entire body like Codeine’s. They began with ‘D.,’ the very first song on their very first album, Frigid Stars LP. I feel like I astral projected myself to the high school hallways where I was first discovering the band, likely on that same mangled mess of earbuds that shamefully brought me home from my wrongdoings the previous year. But tonight I felt no shame, no imposter syndrome, no sense of concern. Admittedly, I haven’t listened to Codeine in quite some time, but all the songs became instantly familiar to me throughout the setlist; it was as much of a “greatest hits” selection as you can get for a relatively short-lived band like them. They touched on some of my favorite moments from The White Birch, like ‘Loss Leader’ and the track that started it all for me, ‘Sea.’ They even included ‘Pickup Song’ from the When I See The Sun pre-order 7”, and a few songs from their lost album Dessau that Numero Group unearthed last year. The main set ended with ‘Pea,’ the drumless Frigid Stars LP closing track and box set namesake:

“When I see the Sun, I hope it shines on me and gives me everything. Well, almost.”

Capping each end of the set with their debut album’s premiere and final tracks was an excellent idea that was expertly executed. It would have been fairly suitable for that to be the end of the show all together, but they engaged in some “peek-a-boo theatre” (their words precisely) for a two-song encore. They made a point on stage about being “excited to play shows again,” and you could tell that they were. It was a completely dialed-in performance from top to bottom…

III. 2024

Spring has barely sprung, and I have already seen some incredible live performances this year. I’ve spent time with longtime favorites like Ministry and Gary Numan, and crossed off some big names from my yet-to-be-witnessed list like Journey and Toto. So far as I’m concerned, Codeine has them all beat up to this point. But I still have a long concertgoing year to get through, even with my limited schedule. I’m currently holding onto tickets for artists like Swans, Neil Young & Crazy Horse, Guided By Voices, The Rolling Stones, Alanis Morissette, and Dweezil Zappa, just to name a few. I’m sure more will come up throughout the summer and fall to the end of the year. 2023 was one of my most mentally straining years that I’ve ever gone through, and I couldn’t be more thrilled to have it behind me. I was absolutely still turning to music to help me push onwards, but instead of Codeine and Sun Kil Moon it was more Bell Witch and 40 Watt Sun (I learned that doom metal really makes the time go by in undesirable working conditions). I still feel depressed from time to time, I always have and probably always will. I don’t necessarily let it define me, but I’m not shy to recognize it and will absolutely look for things that may temporarily cure it. Music is the force behind all things in my life, and that will continue in 2024 and beyond, even if my depression does too. I’m grateful for 2024, I’m grateful for the Empty Bottle, and I’m grateful for Codeine. The sun is shining on me.