You can catch Nad Navillus at The Hideout — you've seen furniture he's built on ‘The Bear'

Chicago Tribune

14-04-2025

Dan Sullivan's searing new album, 'Upper Constant,' should come with a disclaimer: No tornadoes were harmed during the making of this record.
Quite the opposite, actually. When the Chicago-based guitarist, who uses the moniker Nad Navillus, finally got into a Humbolt Park studio to document a set of rapturous instrumentals workshopped during a residency at the Montrose Saloon, the record-breaking derecho weather event of 2024 cut the power for days and nearly derailed the meticulously scheduled session.
A mad scramble commenced and thanks to a few strings pulled by engineer Brok Mende, Sullivan and his band on the project (including longtime collaborators Rob Bochnik on guitar, Andy Hall on drums, Madeleine Aguilar on keyboards and new addition Eddie Matthews on saxophone) landed at Palisades Studios in the Old Town neighborhood. —
'It was a great upgrade,' Sullivan sheepishly admits during a video call from the East Garfield Park home he shares with his wife, the artist and 2025 Chicago Artadia Awards finalist Edra Soto.
At this point, Sullivan is used to rare occurrences disrupting plans. Due to strict COVID-19 protocols during filming, he didn't even get to hobnob with the stars of Hulu's Emmy-winning series 'The Bear' when Navillus Woodworks, his fine furniture and high-end millwork company within the Dock 6 collective, outfitted the show's fictional Michelin star-hopeful restaurant with his custom-made Franklin dining chairs, stools and tables.
He had to watch star Jeremy Allen White fiddle with a purse hook underneath his modernist table design during Season 2 on TV like the rest of us.
'To be a part of something like this that really does its best to represent Chicago in all its complexity … there's nothing about it that isn't totally cool,' says Sullivan, who was born in Maine, but established roots here in 1997.
After a little begging, he did finally visit the Cinespace soundstage in North Lawndale where 'The Bear' films, about a day before the crew dismantled the set.
'If someone blindfolded you and led you in and sat you in a chair and they served you soup and they took your blindfold off, you would be like, 'Oh, I'm in a restaurant.' You can't discern the fact that it is this very ingenious puzzle box where the ceiling comes off, the walls can be removed,' Sullivan recollects, still in awe of the experience.
Sullivan traces the growth of his design company back to Empty Bottle owner Bruce Finkelman when he was doing 'little odds and ends' for the club's former sister restaurant Bite Café. 'A journey of a lot of little steps and relationships' led to high-profile clients such as Blue Star Properties and Finkelman's 16' on Center, which transformed the iconic home of the Morton Salt Company into the Salt Shed in 2022.
Bellying up to any of the gorgeous bars at the revered indoor/outdoor entertainment hub offers a front row seat to Sullivan's recognizable craftsmanship. He was recently up at the crack of dawn at the Salt Shed, overseeing some finishing touches on the interior of Elston Electric, the city's newest arcade bar rounding out its play to entice patrons who aren't easily lured by music alone into the complex.
A longstanding commitment to the Chicago Architecture Biennial and collaborations with the Art Institute of Chicago, most recently on the renovation of the Architecture and Design Gallery in the Modern Wing, also keep Sullivan busy.
It's easy to see how this success led Sullivan to put his solo Nad Navillus project on the back burner since an early 2000s release on Indiana-based label Jagjaguwar. Sporadic gigging with arty metal band Arriver helped maintain his musical dexterity, but when things slowed down in 2020, he felt compelled to resurrect it.
'I wanted something that was a lot more versatile, that was my own and, more than anything, I just felt inspired to do it again,' he explains. So, he did what a lot of musicians did in the lockdown phase of the pandemic: made a 'bedroom-ish' album. Sourcing poems written by incarcerated people and those affected by incarceration for lyrics, the music on 'Forgotten Portraits' mimics the tumult and loneliness of that environment.
Once Sullivan assembled his band to play those songs live, writing the compositions that make up the eight tracks of 'Upper Constant' came 'really, really fast,' especially once he decided to eschew lyrics after the emotional heft of the previous release. 'I just freed myself of that responsibility,' he admits.
At turns propelling and languid, hypnotizing and raucous, 'Upper Constant' acts as an audible mood ring gauged to the whims of the listener. On 'Person of Interest,' Matthews' moonlit saxophone run either hollers a seductive invitation or soundtracks the forlorn waiting for a lover who missed their estimated arrival time by hours. The frenzy of 'Buttons on Jacket' can jumpstart a heart to achievement or hardwire a brain to agitation. Relentless timekeeping by Hall on 'Andy's Hat' simulates a brisk jog on a misty night or being chased in the dark while Bochnik's space invader guitar duels with Matthews' horn, a tantrum simmering under the surface.
Memories shroud album closer 'Forget Me Not' and its accompanying video. Sullivan's winsome guitar (one he designed and built himself as another ware in his company's offerings) walks the rest of the band home and each part sounds as luxurious as a true reciprocal hug. Even Sullivan can't believe he wrote it. 'Even though I can remember working on it, I'm like, how did this come me?' he muses.
He's confident he achieved his goal 'to make a record that's both a Saturday night and Sunday morning record.' But 'Upper Constant' merely freezes a moment in time in the studio. During the recording process, he allowed the musicians to feel their way through the parts and provided as little direction as possible. He expects the songs to continue shapeshifting at the live shows, starting with a release party at the Hideout on April 18. It's an approach he gleaned from his time in Songs: Ohia and Magnolia Electric Company, both led by the late Jason Molina, who trusted his bandmates to listen, react and honor the music.
'If you have the right people and the material is good, it'll take care of itself.'
Janine Schaults is a freelance writer.