Matthew Logan Vasquez Brings the Thunder as Fruit Bats Cast Their Spell at Salt Shed

Eric D. Johnson | Salt Shed | Chicago, IL | photos by Dan Ward

Matthew Logan Vasquez is well known to music fans as the frontman of Delta Spirit and a member of the supergroup Middle Brother. Tonight, however, he arrives at Chicago's Salt Shed with a different mission: shake the walls and fire up the crowd before fellow indie-rock storyteller Eric D. Johnson takes the stage.

Vasquez enters alongside bassist Jim Campo, and from the very first chord, it is clear that this will be a no-frills, hard-driving rock set. He becomes a blur of movement, running, kicking, and stalking the stage with the kind of raw energy that reminds everyone exactly what rock and roll is supposed to feel like. The walls seem to thunder back as the power trio unleashes a relentless barrage of sound.

The set draws from across Vasquez's career, including solo tracks such as "Haunted" and "Hanging" from Sana Sana, along with Delta Spirit's "The Wolf" and Glorietta's "Heatstroke." He even puts his own spin on Sublime's "Santeria," much to the crowd's delight. The audience eagerly embraces the high-voltage performance, happily letting the music get the blood pumping before the evening's main event.

By the time Vasquez closes his set, the crowd is thoroughly revved up. Fans use the break to explore the impressive Salt Shed venue, which offers several food vendors, multiple restaurants, and a Goose Island taproom. It's the kind of place where a concert can easily become a full evening's experience.

After a brief set change, the mood shifts dramatically. A gothic tableau takes shape onstage, complete with candelabras and moody lighting. Keyboardist Frank LoCrasto strides confidently to his command center, while bassist David Dawda and guitarist Josh Mease make their final preparations. Drummer Kosta Galanopoulos is already seated behind his kit, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, as if he were part of the instrument itself. The atmosphere transitions from Vasquez's explosive energy to the cinematic, imagery-rich sound world of Eric D. Johnson. When Johnson finally strolls onstage to a wave of cheers, the transformation is complete.

The Chicago native opens with the poignant "Landfill." Standing inside a repurposed salt storage facility transformed into one of the city's premier concert venues, it is easy to draw parallels between the song and Chicago itself, a city that continually reinvents and rebuilds. Johnson, too, feels deeply shaped by the place he calls home.

As the set unfolds, the music settles over the audience like a comforting blanket. Johnson's songs feel less like performances and more like poetry wrapped in melody. Tracks such as "Absolute Loser," "Rushin' River Valley," and "When You Love Somebody" flow effortlessly through the room, their warmth and humanity carried on every note.

A personal highlight arrives with "The Saddest Part of the Song." Despite its title, the track radiates joy and positivity from its opening notes through its final riff. "You're Too Weird" follows, bringing a buoyant energy that keeps the crowd smiling and engaged.

The pace softens with "Cazadera," a feel-good number that lands like a warm cup of coffee on a cold morning. "Rainbow Sign" and "The Bottom of It" pave the way for the beautiful "My Sweet Midwest," a song that feels pulled straight from the depths of Johnson's heart. Its carefree guitar lines and earnest sentiment create one of the evening's most moving moments.

The tempo rises again with "The Balcony," "Think About Cha," and "That Goddamn Sun." These bright, engaging songs celebrate the small victories and everyday experiences that connect us all. Throughout the performance, Johnson leaves little distance between himself and his audience. His thoughts, hopes, and vulnerabilities remain on full display. When he performs "Shivering Fawn," it feels simultaneously like a confession and a form of healing.

Soon it's time to get the crowd moving again with the danceable groove of "Shane." The upbeat rhythm energizes the room before Johnson guides listeners back into more reflective territory with "Flamingo" and "Perhaps We're a Storm." By this point, the band has played for well over ninety minutes without losing momentum.

The set appears to conclude with the infectious "Humbug Mountain Song." As the joyous chorus echoes through the cavernous venue, the audience enthusiastically sings along. Johnson and the band leave the stage, but no one is ready for the night to end. Sustained cheers eventually bring them back for an encore featuring "Rock Doc" and "A Lingering Love," both of which receive thunderous applause.

Eric D. Johnson is, at his core, a poet who happens to make music. His understated delivery allows the richness of his lyrics and the depth of his songwriting to shine through. Do yourself a favor: seek out his music and catch Fruit Bats live whenever you have the chance. You'll leave richer for the experience.