The Byzantine Empire’s six harmony-soaked singles—three recorded as the Five Bucks—are long overdue for reissue.
Holle Thee Maxwell’s long career has taken her through several genres and across the world—but it’s never made her a star.
Bill Chase’s virtuosic nine-piece band, powered by four trumpets, belongs on the same pedestal as Chicago and Blood, Sweat & Tears.
In 1982 Michael Salvatori recorded a sought-after private-press folk LP, and 19 years later he cowrote the score for genre-defining video game Halo.
For 50 years Thom Bishop has been writing songs, lyrics, plays, movies, and more—and his new novel (as Junior Burke) starts with James Dean shooting Ronald Reagan on live TV.
The Jokers’ only two recordings have both been reissued on retro compilations, but sketchy liner notes have left the band a mystery till now.
One of the hardest-gigging groups in the city’s early-80s jazz-fusion scene reunited in 2016.
The Apocryphals formed at Morton East High School in Cicero and released five singles before Mantegna left to pursue his burgeoning acting career.
By the early 90s Lurrie Bell didn’t even own a guitar anymore, but now he’s got a shelf full of Blues Music Awards.
Big Maceo’s heyday as a recording artist lasted just five years, but his output includes some of the most widely covered songs in the history of the genre.
The Supreme Mayor of Maxwell Street left a scant recorded legacy, but he’s well remembered for his efforts to preserve the historic market and open-air blues hub.
Blues guitarist Jimmy Johnson, still going strong at 91, released his newest album just four months ago.
John Littlejohn’s raw slide-guitar style grew from the same soil that produced Elmore James, but he never became a star outside the Windy City.
This stubbornly idiosyncratic harmonica player had lousy luck with recordings, but he thrived for four decades onstage.
Most of Lucille Spann’s recordings were with her spouse, blues pianist Otis Spann, but she released a great solo album in 1974.