Almost famous: With merch, tours, and hope, this band rocks on
On a stretch of highway under construction near Chicago’s downtown skyscrapers, horns blare in standstill traffic. As seven lanes of cars funnel into one, a black van inches along in the 90-degree heat. The van’s occupants have just finished work and are now slumped in their seats. Rush hour? No, it’s half-past midnight.
Ninety minutes earlier, the four men and two women had finished entertaining roughly 120 people who came to hear their rock band, Bent Knee, play a small, sweaty venue named Schubas Tavern. It was the latest stop in a nine-date tour, their first as headliners since the pandemic upended the live arts world.
Over a decade of touring, Bent Knee has endured plenty of scrapes on the road. There was the time in 2018 they drove through a blizzard in Wyoming. Their van skidded off the road on black ice and flipped onto its side.
“It took five seconds,” recalls multi-instrumentalist and producer Vince Welch.
“The two scariest details that stick with me are, one, the fact that I couldn’t open the driver’s side door because the wind was so strong,” says lanky guitarist Ben Levin. “The other chilling detail is that Jessica was hanging from her seat belt. Vince had to physically ...”
“Catch me,” finishes bassist Jessica Kion.
Mr. Levin and Ms. Kion are married. Onstage they’re a goofy duo, playfully hip-bumping each other. For once, Mr. Levin isn’t smiling. He can’t forget their near miss in Wyoming and the reason they kept driving in a whiteout, not willing to pull over for a night.
“This emphasis that you just can’t miss the gig, because if you miss a gig it’s a huge cost liability – that almost killed us,” he says.
Every night across America, countless bands operating on a shoestring budget abide by the ethos that the show must go on. They can’t afford to do otherwise. These musicians are the original gig workers. Bent Knee realizes that it’s
