Kulture Korner: Cindy Lee Shines at The Empty Bottle’s 33⅓ Anniversary

By: Adam Ramos

Photographed by Matt Lief Anderson for Pitchfork

The moment Cindy Lee stepped onto the stage, gold sequins catching The Empty Bottle’s hazy spotlights, hair swept up like a ’60s girl-group ingénue, the room shifted. The crowd, already buzzing with anticipation, seemed to inhale at once. A wall of fuzzy rose up, dense but tender. The room followed their every move as they sauntered across the stage, guitar in hand. Even the walls felt alive, gleaming faintly beneath the thousands of old show bills stapled into them, decades of memories layered like sediment.

But how did we get here?

This year, the Chicago institution we affectionately call The Bottle celebrates its 33⅓-year anniversary, a cheeky nod to the speed of an LP. Since opening its doors in the early ’90s, it has earned its reputation as a sanctuary for cheap beer, adventurous music, and artists of all stripes—punk, shoegaze, indie, experimental, queer performance, and everything in between. It’s the kind of room where careers quietly begin and entire scenes take shape.

I count myself among its disciples. I’ve been coming to The Bottle for close to a decade, and it has given me more unforgettable concert experiences than any other venue in the city. It’s one of those places where, if you hang around long enough, you start to understand why Chicago’s cultural heartbeat doesn’t just happen downtown. It pulses in places like this.

Tonight is all about Miss Cindy Lee, the alter ego of songwriter, guitarist, and drag performer, Patrick Flegel. Some might remember Flegel from their years fronting the Canadian art-punk band Women, a group that burned brightly and briefly in the late 2000s before imploding. Cindy Lee is what emerged from the flames— a project that lets Flegel explore identity, performance, and vulnerability entirely on their own terms.

Last year, Flegel released Diamond Jubilee, a sprawling, 32-track kaleidoscope of a record that fuses ’60s girl-group sweetness with fuzzy garage rock, synth shimmer, disco undercurrents, and flashes of psychedelia. It’s the kind of album that feels like it came from a different world altogether. Critics responded in full force, and the consensus was clear: this was a major statement from an artist who had fully stepped into their own.

Now, back to The Bottle.

Photographed by Matt Lief Anderson for Pitchfork

As Cindy’s set progressed, the energy in the room swelled, their distinct falsetto bending around pulsing guitar loops and sheets of feedback. The audience, already warm from stellar opening performances by Freak Heat Waves and Accessory XL, slipped into a kind of collective focus. Each song folded into the next with almost no disruption, creating the sensation of one long, drifting transmission rather than a traditional set. Moments of melody would suddenly bloom through the haze and then dissolve again, sending small ripples through the crowd. I noticed Chicago musicians scattered throughout the room—Lifeguard among them—quietly taking it all in. And then, to close, Cindy eased into a cover of Chad VanGaalen’s “Burning Candle,” a tender, cracking moment of clarity that cut through all the distortion.

As I walked out into the cold night air, pushing past clouds of cigarette smoke, it struck me how lucky we are to live in and near a city that celebrates artists like Cindy Lee. Places like The Empty Bottle aren’t just venues; they’re sacred spaces to celebrate the kind of art that refuses to flatten itself for the mainstream. And if you’re in Evanston, wrapped up in classes and routines, it’s worth remembering that this world is a short train ride away. All you have to do is show up. Read More from Kulture Korner: "Piece by Piece" Movie Review "Mission: Impossible" Movie Review