Article Contributed by Dan Ward
Published on January 12, 2026
UM Fans inside the Salt Shed – photos by Dan Ward
Chicago has always been known as an industrial center—one of the great engines that helped build America. Mark Twain once wrote, “It is hopeless for the occasional visitor to try to keep up with Chicago. She outgrows his prophecies faster than he can make them.” The city is populated by hardworking, pragmatic, beer-and-pizza Americans—the true salt of the earth.
Chicago never dies. It transforms. When the Morton Salt Company moved out, its massive salt shed was left abandoned—but not for long. After a multimillion-dollar facelift, The Salt Shed has emerged as one of the city’s preeminent entertainment venues. On this night, Umphrey’s McGee, the enigmatic band formed just across Lake Michigan in South Bend, arrived to shake the rafters of this prestigious hall.
They didn’t come alone.
Umphrey’s enlisted Andy Frasco & the U.N. to set the tone, and from the moment Andy hit the stage, chaos and joy ruled the room. If Andy Frasco’s personality were measured in height, he could change the lights on the Sears Tower while standing on the ground. He opened with a flying leap into “How to Cure a Heartbreak,” followed by “Ugly on You” and “The Walk,” instantly turning the cavernous venue into a frenzy of movement.
Fans knew every word, singing along while frantically cheering on the self-appointed Director of Devilment.
Andy Frasco shows are both physically and emotionally draining. The stage never stops moving as the band tears into crowd favorites like “Try Not to Die.” “Huston” keeps the place bouncing before a surprise appearance by Ryan Stasik ignites a wild cover of Nirvana’s “Breed.”
The band hits its stride when the charming and immensely talented Jennifer Hartswick joins them for “Love, Come Down” and “Talk About It.” Retro energy surges with Harvey Danger’s “Flagpole Sitta,” featuring a special appearance by Scotty Zwang. The crowd reaches a fever pitch—and Andy knows exactly how to push them over the edge.
As Frasco and company climb toward the zenith, Hartswick returns for an extended, soulful version of “Somedays.” Andy, close friends with Brendan Bayliss outside of music, takes the opportunity to introduce the Umphrey’s kids to the crowd. He invites them to crowd surf—something they’ve “always wanted to do.” Pandemonium erupts as the gleeful audience carries the youngsters far deeper into the crowd than Andy ever anticipated.
With time for one more song, Frasco launches into the endlessly fun “Dancin’ Around My Grave.” The tune is pure celebration. Normally, the “last song” is a full stop—but not with Andy Frasco. He vaults the barrier and heads straight into the middle of The Shed’s floor, igniting an impromptu dance contest, pointing out fans to take the lead and dance like there’s no tomorrow.
For most performers, this would have been a packed headline set. Not for Frasco.
He returns to the stage, confesses that he’s an a$$hole, and starts the song over. Then he brings out Bayliss’ youngest child and has her dance atop his treasured Hammond B3. Still not done, Andy restarts the song one final time and closes out the set properly. The crowd needs the full thirty-minute break just to recover.
Umphrey’s McGee takes the stage in darkness before exploding into “You Got the Wrong Guy,” morphing seamlessly into “The Floor,” “Day Nurse,” and “Hiccup.” The fans are instantly re-energized. The entire Shed rocks.
The band is in peak form. Brendan’s voice is clear and powerful. Jake Cinninger shreds relentlessly. Stasik mugs for the crowd. Keyboardist Joel Cummins is surrounded by an arsenal of keys, masterfully steering the band through shifting modes and textures, while Andy Farag punctuates the sound with thunderous auxiliary percussion.
This is a home crowd. Brendan shouts out the band’s original stomping grounds in South Bend, and the room erupts. Many fans have followed Umphrey’s since their early days around the Notre Dame campus. Newest member Scotty Zwang looks completely at home, locking into the rhythm as if born for the role.
“Front Porch” melts into “Resolution,” complete with a nod to Tom Petty’s “Free Fallin’.” Memories surface—warm summer days camped out at Patrick Park watching a very young Umphrey’s McGee. So many miles and so much time later, the band remains as fresh and exhilarating as ever.
The first set closes with Jennifer Hartswick and Sam Kelly joining the band for a jazzy, soulful take on TLC’s “Waterfalls.” As Brendan exits the stage, he jokingly expresses disappointment with “Uncle Andy” for teaching his son to crowd surf the wrong way—face down. After a long stretch on their feet, the break is welcomed.
The Salt Shed itself shines as part of the experience, offering stunning views of the Chicago skyline, diverse food and drink options ranging from quick bites to fine dining, and even an arcade for those craving extra stimulation. The venue has gone out of its way to make every concert night memorable.
The second set launches with “The Silent Type” and “Booth Love.” Tight harmonies and driving rhythms push the surging crowd into motion. This is music made for listening and dancing. The audience undulates like waves off the lake, the floor in constant motion.
Umphrey’s McGee are jam-band masters—blending, shifting, and reimagining in real time. A concert isn’t defined by a printed setlist but by the shared mood of band and crowd. That symbiosis transforms “Booth Love,” “Wappy Sprayberry,” “Remind Me,” and “August” into something greater than the sum of their parts.
The night appears to end with “Got Your Milk” and a return to “1348,” but it’s a feint. The band roars back with a ferocious “JaJunk” that tears through the room. Mid-song, Jennifer Hartswick reappears to channel David Bowie’s “Under Pressure.” Harold Faltermeyer and Steve Stevens join the finale, adding a surprise “Top Gun” tease that sends the crowd home grinning.
This was a concert built for memory-making. Anytime Andy Frasco and Umphrey’s McGee collide, a good time is guaranteed. Combine that with The Salt Shed’s commitment to excellence, and you get a night Chicago won’t soon forget.
