Daymaker Credit: Alexus McLane

“Condos are killing my country / my city gets nothing / burning like a rash from my undies / my city gets nothing,” Erin Delaney warbles before unleashing her full-throttle yowl on “Condos,” the anti-gentrification single Chicago’s Daymaker’s released in June. The band comes staggering in, sloshing loose feedback wails around the song’s can’t-get-it-out-of-your-head indie-pop hook. Daymaker’s a bit of a mess and a bit of a known quantity—snotty punk rawk bands are scattered across the midwest as liberally as abandoned industrial plants—but Delaney’s pissed-off charisma oozes from the recording, and the band embraces its underdog status with winningly mean-spirited resolve. A live recording at the Empty Bottle sponsored by DIY collective Young Camelot is raucous and crowd-pleasing. “I get bioluminescent when you come around I change colors like a deep. sea. Squid!” Delaney howls during the band’s “Glowworm.” It may be a love song, but when she’s howling to an enthusiastic crowd, it also comes across as a goofy, semicrazed declaration of loyalty to the audience; Delaney’s determined to belong to the milieu she finds herself in. It’s hard to imagine Daymaker blowing up nationally, partially because they’re so deliberately unpolished, but mostly because they seem refreshingly committed to being where they are.   v