Is The Greeting Committee it?
The Greeting Committee brings passion and unfiltered joy to The Bottom Lounge in Chicago.
As Firebird’s official Midwestern expert, of course, I keep tabs on all artists from the Heartland—and The Greeting Committee is no exception. Originally formed in 2014 as a high school talent show act in Overland Park, Kansas, the group comprises Addie Sartino (vocalist) and Pierce Tucorette (bassist). Earlier this summer, the band celebrated the release of their third studio album, Everybody's Gone And I Know I'm The Cause, and in July, they brought their Midwestern charm to Chicago’s Bottom Lounge.
Before the show, I’ll admit, I wasn’t the most attentive fan of TGC. I was familiar with some of their biggest hits, like “Elise” and “17,” but I went into this show with an open mind. As I stepped into the room, which was packed with slightly tipsy twenty-somethings, I couldn’t help but notice the sea of couples around me. If you ever want to feel single, I guess a TGC show is the place to be. That said, it was a relief to find that everyone I interacted with was refreshingly calm and pleasant to be around—concert etiquette like that is a rare find these days.
Donning the stage, dressed in a cropped blue St. Anne’s jersey, Sartino’s stage presence was something to behold. She’s assertive, unafraid to take up space, and honestly has the makings of the next big queer icon—what King Princess wishes they had. The band members’ chemistry was evident from the start. However, that wasn’t always the case. In an interview with Rain Magazine, Sartino remarked, “I like to joke that a lot of The Greeting Committee's music comes from disagreement. I think it just got to a point where we were struggling to find the joy in creating, and that became a detriment to us as individuals, as artists, and as a group.” Noah Spencer, the newest member, joined Sartino and Tucorette on this record following the departure of two of the founding members of TGC. “We have kind of tiptoed around talking about it. It needed to happen. We went through a lot as a band. We met at 15, then really sprung from being this sort of casual high school arrangement to a contract, and pressure…We tried hard to make it work as a four-piece, and I think ultimately who you need at 15 is not necessarily who can be in your life at 25.”
The show continued with the band transitioning into “Is This It?” and “A Little Bit More,” captivating the crowd, with the latter quickly becoming a personal favorite. The song’s chorus—“Will you love me just a little bit more?”—felt like a collective plea from the audience when they echoed it back with the same, if not more, passion. Sartino came into the crowd on multiple occasions to sing directly with us while Tucorette ran around with a tambourine, a giant spotlight trailing behind him. It was one of those moments where you realize you’re part of something bigger, a shared experience (as a Religious Studies major, I’m fighting the urge to refer to it as collective effervescence) that only live music can create. By the time they closed with “Hands Down,” I was fully converted into a fan. We walked out of the venue with huge smiles, feeling like we’d just discovered something truly special. It’s not often you leave a concert feeling like you’ve been let in on a secret, but that’s precisely what The Greeting Committee delivered—a night of pure joy and a connection that felt almost magical.
For anyone looking for a memorable live music experience, The Greeting Committee is it. They don’t just play music; they create a space where you feel seen, heard, and understood. Their live performance isn’t just about the songs—it’s about the moments in between, the glances exchanged, and the collective energy of the crowd. They aren’t performing for applause; they’re performing for the pure love of it, and we’re just lucky enough to be along for the ride. Who knows, maybe they’ll stop at UChicago next.
Listen to Everybody's Gone And I Know I'm The Cause today.
edited by Jake Harvey.
cover photo taken by Tyler Krippaehne.
album artwork believed to belong to either the publisher of the work or the artist.