Article Contributed by Ducky
Published on 2026-03-17
Leftover Salmon | Garcia’s Chicago | March 6, 7, and 8, 2026 – photos by Joshua Konrad
On the sidewalk, you could feel it. Just inside the door, there was sure to be a higher frequency. It’s certainly evident that the room Garcia’s Chicago has is like copper for musical energy. The air is conductive. Every note, electric. The moment you enter, you can feel it—transposed up a couple of keys. And while we’re nestled into this place above, know that it is by no means calmer. Just more beautiful. And a lot more fun.
This space fit like a glove over the 36-year-old hand of Leftover Salmon, who, despite decades on the road, continue to bring the heat in a radical way. It was one of the coolest, most respectful crowds I’ve been in for as far as I can recollect—almost free of chomp and moving with the music. If I’d looked up and seen someone swinging from a chandelier, it would not have surprised me in the slightest. The room was chockablock with happy people, and I have yet to see it as crowded as it was on Friday and Saturday. The space was HOT, in every sense of the word. The heat was welcome, though. It’s cold in Chicago in March.
One of the many things that makes Leftover Salmon unique is the addition of drums to the bluegrass lineup. Speaking of the drums, Alwyn Robinson celebrated his birthday with this run, and what a party it turned out to be. One of the standout jams from the night turned up on “Light Behind the Rain” off 2012’s Aquatic Hitchhiker. This jam highlighted another of the band’s distinctive features. Not only does Drew Emmitt dominate his mandolin, but he absolutely shreds the six-string as well. Emmitt bounced from mando to guitar throughout the weekend, filling out the gaps of every genre in their gumbo of a sound. During set break, the crowd was charged, and the electricity spilled out the doors and onto the street for a heterogeneous mixture of smokes and conversation. By the time the crowd was ready for more, they piled once again headfirst into the thick of it.
The second set took the place even higher. I didn’t think it to be possible after the first set, but I quickly found out that I had seriously overestimated the effects of time on this band. The rest of the show was wall-to-wall energy. The room danced on its head. One of the standout moments included a completely reimagined cover of the Grateful Dead’s “Black Peter,” a low-and-slow tune about death and pain. The Salmon boys kicked the tempo up a few notches, and suddenly it was a scorching bluegrass burner. Just when it couldn’t get more interesting, they folded in verses and choruses of The Marshall Tucker Band’s “Can’t You See,” Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Sweet Home Alabama,” and Jimmy Buffett’s “Margaritaville” before settling back into “Black Peter” and eventually bringing it to a close. The last peak of the set lay in “Aquatic Hitchhiker,” the titular track from the band’s 2012 album, widely regarded as a return to the sound beloved by their longest fans. It was quite the joyous occasion.
Saturday was just as casually rowdy as the night before, only this show was officially sold out. Somehow, the place felt even more crowded. Again, it was worth noting that it remained one of the most respectful and attentive crowds I have had the pleasure to be a part of. There were two—maybe three—people in the entire room who appeared to be overly intoxicated and became a nuisance. For a sold-out show featuring a legendary jam band, that feels almost historically low. It added to the energy, making everything that much more electric. The second set on Saturday night was one of the more memorable musical experiences of my time—a carnivalesque experience. Dazzling. Outrageous. Explosive. Mesmerizing. Part of a truly exceptional three-day run.
It’s only fitting that “Carnival Time” from Saturday night became a defining moment of the weekend. Arguably the biggest jam of the night came during their cover of Traffic’s “The Low Spark of High-Heeled Boys.” Ironically, given the title, the room caught fire and didn’t let up until the band left the stage. Then came one of the few true segue jams of the weekend with “Bird Call” > “Good Dog,” sending the crowd into motion. It took over the central nervous system of everybody in the room.
Sunday rounded things out beautifully, highlighted by a smoking second set and inventive spins on non-bluegrass covers. The first set closed with an accelerated, dobro-driven “Runnin’ Down a Dream.” The Tom Petty tune did indeed “grass,” as we came to find. Halfway through the second set, the tone for the night was set by a fiery “Bolin Creek,” driven by banjo master Andy Thorn, which led into a full-band “Eleanor Rigby” tease that bordered on a full instrumental cover of the Beatles classic. That energy carried seamlessly through “Lovin’ in My Baby’s Eyes” and an even hotter “Cumberland Blues.”
After this weekend, it’s clear the band still carries its signature jovial spirit. After more than three decades, Leftover Salmon continues to approach music with the same curious ingenuity that led them to add drums to bluegrass in the first place. This spirit shined through in their “Will It Grass?” covers—a concept they recently explored at Winter Wondergrass, where they performed bluegrass renditions of songs like “American Idiot,” “Down Under,” “Hold On,” and “Runnin’ Down a Dream.” Over the course of the Chicago run, they played six such covers, keeping the audience wide open to whatever might come next.
Perhaps the most unexpected highlight of Sunday night was their rendition of Radiohead’s “Weird Fishes/Arpeggi.” It’s refreshing to see a band of seasoned veterans still taking risks—and even better to see those risks pay off. The room was transported to an otherworldly space, something closer to an underwater kingdom than a club in the city. Outside, nothing existed.
There were moments of absolute mayhem in the music—complete and utter chaos—and it couldn’t have been more fun. It was colorful madness, like being hit over the head with a flower. Not the kind of madness to fear, but the kind to embrace. It’s the bells and whistles that make the world more fun. It’s all more fun when you see the world for the carnival it is.
The city felt silent when we walked back out into the night, rejoining the rest of the world beyond our little cove. It felt like we had discovered a secret place—one we may never return to in quite the same way. Because it’s never the same twice. And the next time you see them, you’ll find another cove.
Such is the spirit of the music. Nothing you have seen and heard can ever be seen and heard again. So we keep searching—for another uncharted frontier in sound, light, space, and time. The world may be finite, but discovery is not. There will always be something new for those willing to listen.
All things aside, it was just fun. And fun is the lifeblood of the experience. Fun fosters love, and love builds communities. That’s something worth building.
