Letter from the Editor: On cleanliness, patriotism, and settling scores

July 2, 2025

Brock Wilbur,

Greetings, dearest readers, and welcome to the annual Music Issue of The Pitch—homegrown right here in Kansas City, U.S.A.

2025 has been a year for pure, unmitigated chaos, and the music scene has been no exception. I’m not unaware that, since 2020, many of my Letter from the Editor scrawls have had to acknowledge these unprecedented times and, sure, at some point perhaps an unending tsunami of stupid problems should redefine the concept of precedented times—the water the frog is boiling within isn’t chilling out any time soon. Art at least thrives in a garden of chaos, and the first half of a bizarre, often distressing summer has already delivered some once-in-a-lifetime creative highs across the metro.

I’m finding a lot of joy in unexpected places. I’m clinging to that joy when I find it, and then using it to fuel the fights we face elsewhere.

For this issue, our music editor Nick Spacek and our team of intrepid reporters have scoured for some of the lesser-known tales of triumph in the arts for this year’s big round-up. We have a bit of everything, from powerful acts putting out life-changing material to those who find collaboration in unexpected places. Kaylynn Mullins profiles a local fashion designer who currently finds himself on tour, running the visual experience for one of the biggest rock stars on the planet. Orrin Grey found an extremely haunted hovel which, while not technically rock ’n’ roll, is exceptionally rock ’n’ roll. Also, in an oddly patriotic but delightful turn, Jake Louraine pledged his allegiance to the folks who sing the “Star-Spangled Banner” and other anthems ahead of sporting events—including the process by which you audition for the honor.

I’m a little jealous that Spacek beat me to the coverage of Warehouse on Broadway. If you haven’t been yet, Westport has an absolutely sizzling new mid-sized venue with an opening summer/fall lineup of artists uniquely suited to sell out a space with this specific capacity. Santigold will be there on my birthday, which puts me in a difficult situation considering the Deftones show the same night. [Ed note: At the time of writing this, Santigold added a second date, proving that words can solve real-world problems.]

Anyhowdy, my first show at Warehouse was—I feared—a trap. Back in March, Omaha’s The Faint were swinging through, and I bought tickets to drag a portion of my friend group out to delight in cocaine-synthpunk from one of my all-time favorite groups. Ahead of the show, I kept checking Warehouse’s social media to get a glimpse at the room layout for a venue I hadn’t attended yet. There weren’t photos. There were fliers for shows and DJ nights, but not a single image of the space. Was this an elaborate trick? Would there be any cocaine-synthpunk at all, or would I find myself in some type of Jigsaw trap?

Night of the show, we got there early, and something was “off” about Warehouse on Broadway. We couldn’t put our finger on it, as a group, until we literally put our finger on it.

“This is too clean,” my wife said. “I’m touching the counter and the seats and looking around, and it’s too clean. There isn’t a scratch anywhere. Nothing is sticky.”

Sure enough, when I ventured to the men’s room, it was so immaculately spotless that I felt certain I was the first human being to ever use the commode. It felt disorientingly unsullied, a CBS sitcom’s version of what a “concert venue” might look like.

We were, at the time, unaware that this was the first official event in the space, at least since its brief run as a live-band jukebox experience. It’s a tremendous venue, and I’ve been back three times in the months since, having found a space that has no bad view of the stage and where—more importantly—there’s a gigantic electric light in a “W” shape that I can lean against in the back corner, thereby avoiding blocking anyone’s view but also giving off a vibe that I own the place.

I adore my “W” corner, and I adore the night we spent with The Faint. My highest recommendation is that you check their concert calendar right now to see if someone you love (Panda Bear? Low Cut Connie? Tripping Daisy!?) is swinging through in ‘25.

Photo Courtesy of Diego Chi

Before diving into everyone else’s stories for this issue, I’d just like to briefly mention Diego Chi’s recent adventures. You might remember our cover story for the Music Issue from two years back, where our band of the year was local talent gone rock superstars Making Movies. Chi was one of the two brothers who started and fronted that electric Latino juggernaut. But he isn’t playing with them now. In fact, he’s been out for a while. The reason is nothing as dire as you might imagine.

A few weeks back, Chi posted a video on Instagram of him alone in a studio space, layering lush chords on a synthesizer. The post’s text explained that he’d been longing to stretch his creative muscles in spaces outside of the collaborative nature of the band and its genre confines. This was the official announcement that Chi was taking some time off from touring with his brother and their multi-decade investment in the Making Movies empire, and sinking his teeth into solo work for soundtracks.

It’s not uncommon to see people on social media announce that they’re embarking on a new creative venture. [This column is regularly a chance for me to talk about a new band I’m playing with, and you’ve almost never seen me bring my guitar to stage in five years, lol.] What was shocking was that Chi’s announcement came… a year after he’d already made this change. He’d already been off the road and back at home with his partner and children. He’d already made solo adventures to the woods to find his new sound. Most impressively, he’s already composed the entire score for a new video game from the folks behind the massively successful Helldivers II.

There are so many posts from people I follow about how they’re “changing directions” or “finding themselves” where the follow-up never arrives. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen one where a creative I adore announces that not only are they pursuing something new, but they’ve already hit a grand slam that veterans in their field would die for.

I’ve got a longer deep-dive interview with Diego Chi on The Pitch website right now, and I hope you’ll follow along as his new era unfolds, but without further ado we simply gotta get into all the great creative victories for KC folks in the print issue of The Pitch you hold in your hands.

Pitch in and we’ll make it through,