Saturday night at MFNW, the night more people than any other night would get their shit together and go out to the shows. Given the difficulties thus far, it was gonna take some planning. Oh dear. I hate planning. Knowing venue-hopping wouldn't really be an option, sadly, I ruled out The Joggers, Matt Sheehy, Loch Lomond, Weinland, Blind Pilot, Copy, and Please Step Out of the Vehicle. Several venues had lineups worth seeing from start to finish, including Holocene (Horsefeathers, Panther, The Shaky Hands, Thao With The Get Down Stay Down), Backspace (We're From Japan, A Weather, Mirah), and Towne Lounge (Atole, Eskimo & Sons (their actual last show ever), and Chicharones). But I decided on the Crystal, again, for Mimicking Birds (the everpresent 'opening band'), Blitzen Trapper, Fleet Foxes, Menomena, and The Helio Sequence.
I figured I could show up about halfway through the opening band, no problem, given how the other nights had looked at the Crystal. So I did. There was a line about halfway up the block, more than I expected but didn't look too bad. A few minutes later, one of the bouncers walked down the line, assuring us we would get in. An hour and a half later, I was in. Christ. Despite the endless wait, I swear, I've seen the place fuller. Missed Blitzen Trapper (I discovered an old post from long before I got involved with Blogger, dated MFNW 2005, in which I missed Blitzen Trapper...apparently MFNW + Blitzen Trapper + OMS = 0). Fleet Foxes have been getting all sorts of attention--nay, buzz--lately. I expected Vampire-Weekend-like cute, likeable overdressed-and-overproduced alt-pop. That's not what I got. At all. They launched into an a capella bit that was more Smithsonian-archives-'30s-backwoods-gospel than '80s-worshipping-'08-tongue-in-cheek. The next song set the tone for the rest of the set by calling up Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young. I was four years old, in my footie pajamas, sitting on the speaker, being allowed to stay up late as my dad played records. A la recherche du temps perdu...it was almost like I had a happy childhood or something! The rest of the show was largely a folk-influenced '70s period piece. Certainly, there were some cheesy elements (hey! CSNY is NOT cheesy!), but overall, I enjoyed it. Then, Menomena. "So, are these guys good?" Yeah, they're good, alright. Just watch. They prefaced the show with telling us it may be the last time we see them for a while, so enjoy the songs from the past three years...Nooooooooo! Lalalalalala! I'm not listening! Gasp! Sob! Sigh. So Menomena, it appears, is going on hiatus. They then boiled and smashed and otherwise rocked through favorites from both albums (xylophone solo! Yeah!).
A little convincing got me out to another couple of shows, though I was definitely flagging. I actually failed to take notes, which sucks, because I'm sure they would have been brilliant. I mean, I was utterly clever and hilarious during the shows, right? But that's all lost now. So this will have to do: Off to Berbati's for Polvo. One of those names I knew from the late '90s, but I had no idea what they'd sound like. Very heavy, wall-of-noise melodic indie-art-metal with minimalist vocals, and some DC/math rock elements of that era. Now I know who Polvo is. A short stop at the Doug Fir for Centromatic. I really liked them, kind of a Barsuk-sounding melding of Nada Surf and Wilco. But I was just barely keeping my eyes open at that point. Imagine had I nodded off, slipped off the banister where I was perched, hit my head...what a mess. Bagged that set early to get some sleep.
The end.
Postscript: I was really pretty frustrated with the festival this year. I missed some things while standing in line, and missed some other things because no matter how long I stood in line I would never have gotten in. The individual ticket sales, from what I could tell, took up 75% of some of the venues some nights. Those of us who dedicated ourselves to the whole festival by buying wristbands were treated like second-class citizens, held out of the venues, left sitting on the sidewalk hoping in vain, or sent off to second- or third-choice shows. The music I got to see was often awesome and nearly always interesting, which helped a lot. But perhaps the reason I didn't end up kicking something out of frustration, breaking a toe, and going home early in pain, was the people. And for crying out loud, I hate people. So this was refreshing. People in lines were friendly, with an in-this-together feel. I loved getting texts from venues a few blocks away, with commentary on other shows. When a friend and I walked back to the nook at Berbati's, all we had to do was glance at the bench and folks scooted over for us. I had some great conversations about the bands, and even had fun losing at air hockey at Slabtown. So, MFNW, here's my recommendation for next year: When it comes to the crowds, aim for quality over quantity.
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