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.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
MFNW Continued...By Request!
So it turns out someone actually reads this stuff. And that one person really wants me to finish what I started. I'm terrible at that, so I could probably use a little goading. Other people: Better than Ritalin!
Friday night, I tried to start out with Britt Daniel and Built To Spill (performing, apparently, all of Perfect From Now On straight through) at the Wonder Ballroom. It was the early show, with Britt Daniel starting at 5:30. I got there about an hour later to find a line stretched down the block. Strike two. This show didn't even come with real pre-sale tix, and the only way to get in without a wristband was to go get a free ticket somewhere earlier that day. I heard the first few notes of the title track from PFNO floating out the door of the Wonder as I drove home, starting to seethe. Looking at the schedule, knowing how difficult it had been to get into some shows so far, I ended up watching the end of the ballgame rather than heading across town somewhere then finding myself late and shut out somewhere else. A Twins win, 10-2, eased my frustration somewhat. Then off to the Crystal, where I got there well before any of the music even started, thanks to Vampire Weekend headlining. Sat down in my spot, and spent the interminable wait for music to begin (probably about 20 minutes, but patience and sitting still aren't exactly strong suits for me) mentally cursing MFNW for making me sit there instead of venue-hopping and seeing something unexpected. Had a couple of interesting conversations, including one guy who seemed to be reading my brain (Nada Surf's Let Go is somehow "better than it is" and they've never even gotten close to matching it again; JV is kind of cool recorded, but live is wholly different and amazing; not getting into BtS was the disappointment of the festival).
Then Lackthereof started. The brainchild of Danny from Menomena, it incorporates a lot of Menomena sounds. But then, live, it borrows Dat'r as the rhythm section. Absolutely inspired pairing, right there. Started a bit messy, as if they couldn't quite hear themselves, but then it all clicked. They are the masters of the STOP (beat, beat, beat) CRASH! And there was a toy accordion. And at one point, all four members of the band were playing drums. Awesome to behold. During the break between bands, this other guy started expounding to me on what he thought of Lackthereof. Missing a little something, he couldn't put his finger on it, but they could blow up huge. *Shrug* What the hell does he know...for a one-man side project, signing to Barsuk is blowing up huge. And they're not missing a damn thing. Bastard also failed to save my seat. John Vanderslice followed. I wondered how he would fare in such a huge venue, only having seen him at the Doug Fir. I needn't have worried. He owned that place. The bass and drums filled the space and more. He eschewed any of the cute elements (like the synth horns), the stage banter, and the pretty songs, and just flat out bowled us over. The crowd was really engaged, even though they were all there for the pop-alt band up next. It was like JV was on a mission to balance the bubble-gum to come with some pure, dark, creepy battering. The smoke machine didn't hurt. He did Exodus Damage and Up Above the Sea back to back, ten minutes of pure cleansing fury...yet hummable, too! (How does he still do Exodus Damage? We didn't get the revolution he was hoping for...in fact, quite the opposite.)
Didn't stick around for Vampire Weekend. Didn't have high hopes, but trolled by Roseland to see if there was any possibility of getting into TV On The Radio. Not a chance in hell. A line four-deep all the way down the block and around the corner, and then I lost sight of it. I wonder how many people paid their fifty bucks just to stand in line all weekend? Headed over to Slabtown for the Tender Loving Empire showcase. TLE is some sort of mish-mash label-publishing house-incubator-hopeful monster. There were hidden treats...I found a TLE t-shirt! Slabtown, where I've never been, is nine-tenths creepy, dirty dive bar and one-tenth indie-artsy-cool stuff. Oh--and air hockey. Turns out I'm no good at air hockey. Finn Riggins was up first. Irish drinkin' band? No. An experimental, but mostly successful, layering-on of a bunch of wildly divergent elements, including bits of keyboard-funk, a transient moment or two of ska, some videogame noises, some synth that sounded like a Hammond B-3 set from 'stun' to 'kill', a steel drum, sparkly pretty stuff, and some plain ol' old-skool gothpunk, held together with duct tape and a cool, buzzy female voice. Next up, Jared Mees and the Grown Children. Another dork-punk-type sound. But so familiar...what do all these bands have in common? What element is that that I can't quite put my finger on? The lightbulb went on. 71.8% of Portland bands are influenced by Half Japanese. Do you have any idea how much better I feel having figured that out? So anyhow, JM&theGC was a big slice of Half Japanese, and reminded me a bit also of Please Step Out Of The Vehicle, if the PSOTV marching-band elements were replaced with country-punk.
Ended the night out with late-night french fries and comparing notes.
Friday night, I tried to start out with Britt Daniel and Built To Spill (performing, apparently, all of Perfect From Now On straight through) at the Wonder Ballroom. It was the early show, with Britt Daniel starting at 5:30. I got there about an hour later to find a line stretched down the block. Strike two. This show didn't even come with real pre-sale tix, and the only way to get in without a wristband was to go get a free ticket somewhere earlier that day. I heard the first few notes of the title track from PFNO floating out the door of the Wonder as I drove home, starting to seethe. Looking at the schedule, knowing how difficult it had been to get into some shows so far, I ended up watching the end of the ballgame rather than heading across town somewhere then finding myself late and shut out somewhere else. A Twins win, 10-2, eased my frustration somewhat. Then off to the Crystal, where I got there well before any of the music even started, thanks to Vampire Weekend headlining. Sat down in my spot, and spent the interminable wait for music to begin (probably about 20 minutes, but patience and sitting still aren't exactly strong suits for me) mentally cursing MFNW for making me sit there instead of venue-hopping and seeing something unexpected. Had a couple of interesting conversations, including one guy who seemed to be reading my brain (Nada Surf's Let Go is somehow "better than it is" and they've never even gotten close to matching it again; JV is kind of cool recorded, but live is wholly different and amazing; not getting into BtS was the disappointment of the festival).
Then Lackthereof started. The brainchild of Danny from Menomena, it incorporates a lot of Menomena sounds. But then, live, it borrows Dat'r as the rhythm section. Absolutely inspired pairing, right there. Started a bit messy, as if they couldn't quite hear themselves, but then it all clicked. They are the masters of the STOP (beat, beat, beat) CRASH! And there was a toy accordion. And at one point, all four members of the band were playing drums. Awesome to behold. During the break between bands, this other guy started expounding to me on what he thought of Lackthereof. Missing a little something, he couldn't put his finger on it, but they could blow up huge. *Shrug* What the hell does he know...for a one-man side project, signing to Barsuk is blowing up huge. And they're not missing a damn thing. Bastard also failed to save my seat. John Vanderslice followed. I wondered how he would fare in such a huge venue, only having seen him at the Doug Fir. I needn't have worried. He owned that place. The bass and drums filled the space and more. He eschewed any of the cute elements (like the synth horns), the stage banter, and the pretty songs, and just flat out bowled us over. The crowd was really engaged, even though they were all there for the pop-alt band up next. It was like JV was on a mission to balance the bubble-gum to come with some pure, dark, creepy battering. The smoke machine didn't hurt. He did Exodus Damage and Up Above the Sea back to back, ten minutes of pure cleansing fury...yet hummable, too! (How does he still do Exodus Damage? We didn't get the revolution he was hoping for...in fact, quite the opposite.)
Didn't stick around for Vampire Weekend. Didn't have high hopes, but trolled by Roseland to see if there was any possibility of getting into TV On The Radio. Not a chance in hell. A line four-deep all the way down the block and around the corner, and then I lost sight of it. I wonder how many people paid their fifty bucks just to stand in line all weekend? Headed over to Slabtown for the Tender Loving Empire showcase. TLE is some sort of mish-mash label-publishing house-incubator-hopeful monster. There were hidden treats...I found a TLE t-shirt! Slabtown, where I've never been, is nine-tenths creepy, dirty dive bar and one-tenth indie-artsy-cool stuff. Oh--and air hockey. Turns out I'm no good at air hockey. Finn Riggins was up first. Irish drinkin' band? No. An experimental, but mostly successful, layering-on of a bunch of wildly divergent elements, including bits of keyboard-funk, a transient moment or two of ska, some videogame noises, some synth that sounded like a Hammond B-3 set from 'stun' to 'kill', a steel drum, sparkly pretty stuff, and some plain ol' old-skool gothpunk, held together with duct tape and a cool, buzzy female voice. Next up, Jared Mees and the Grown Children. Another dork-punk-type sound. But so familiar...what do all these bands have in common? What element is that that I can't quite put my finger on? The lightbulb went on. 71.8% of Portland bands are influenced by Half Japanese. Do you have any idea how much better I feel having figured that out? So anyhow, JM&theGC was a big slice of Half Japanese, and reminded me a bit also of Please Step Out Of The Vehicle, if the PSOTV marching-band elements were replaced with country-punk.
Ended the night out with late-night french fries and comparing notes.
Sunday, September 07, 2008
Musicfest NW's Awkward Adolescence
This was MFNW's eighth year, and I think my...fourth? year of attending (I think there must have been a year I missed it). Every year it gets bigger. Sometimes that's a good thing, and other times that means standing in line. I remember those golden, halcyon days when my only concern was not drinking too much beer, so I could drive myself from venue to venue and see whatever I wanted. This year, they sold lots of guaranteed individual-show tix as well as the wristbands, making it a crapshoot whether I'd get in at any given venue. It required a constant backup plan. I got pretty frustrated with it a few times, while missing a show I really wanted to see, but in the midst of several of the performances, for a few brief moments, all was forgiven. (I'm still writing a stern letter, though. Stern, I tell ya.)
The fest started on Wednesday with a few venues. I decided to save up my energy for the rest of the weekend. Thursday night was also smallish, only eight venues, but some great stuff to see. A sampling of shows I missed: M. Ward, The Whigs, Iommi Stubbs, Starfucker, The Cool Kids, and Battles (which I heard several times was stellar). Saw Eskimo & Sons at the Crystal to kick off my show-seeing. Ten people on stage, the girls all in '90s-era dresses appropriate for a junior-high semiformal dance, instruments everywhere...what am I getting myself into? It was bouncy and fun, little bits of so many things. The keys-plus-horns here sounds like John Vanderslice, his voice sounds like Conor Oberst, hers like Victoria Williams. That song sounds like Rilo Kiley, this one has faux-sultry horns like the theme song to an '80s cop show, that other one is a dead ringer for some mid-'80s lite-rock, but in a fun way...a ton of fans of the band there singing along and cheering. Turns out it was their second-to-last show ever. Caught a little of Calvin Johnson, and the second he opened his mouth, I remembered what I actually like about him, other than his finger-in-every-pie prolific-ness (prolificity?). Halobenders! I also remembered that I haven't liked him since, because he needs Doug Martsch to make him rock. The place was nearly empty, so I thought I'd chance it on coming back for M. Ward later, and impulsively headed across town to see Oxford Collapse having no idea who they were. Dork-punk with a solid grounding in actual old-skool punk, pretty damn good. Headed back to the Crystal to find a big-ass line for M. Ward. Strike one. They sold all sorts of tickets, leaving us wristbanders out of luck. Went to Berbati's instead as plan B. Port O'Brien was essentially just an unfortunate and unnecessary melding of suburban-bar-band country-blues and scream-punk. I liked the last song okay. Pseudosix is a band I knew of, but couldn't remember why. They've got two songs on PDX Pop Now comps, it turns out. Cute and lovely, but shading much more country-twang than I expected. The violin actually saved them. It wasn't at all fiddle. Last up, and the reason I was there: Nada Surf. For a guy who writes very pretty songs and really only put together one good (damn good) album, the live shows are consistently amazing. He rocked Killian's Red (not an ode to the beer, but about drinking in a dive bar under a neon sign, wishing for better) and Fruit Fly (seriously, who'da thunk Fruit Fly could rock?). I still don't like the stuff that isn't on Let Go as much (later in the weekend, I talked to someone who gushed, "That disc is somehow...better than it is," which is weird, because it was while I was seeing John Vanderslice, and a friend of mine recently used those exact words to describe a song of his).
Okay, that's more than enough for now. Friday and Saturday to come.
The fest started on Wednesday with a few venues. I decided to save up my energy for the rest of the weekend. Thursday night was also smallish, only eight venues, but some great stuff to see. A sampling of shows I missed: M. Ward, The Whigs, Iommi Stubbs, Starfucker, The Cool Kids, and Battles (which I heard several times was stellar). Saw Eskimo & Sons at the Crystal to kick off my show-seeing. Ten people on stage, the girls all in '90s-era dresses appropriate for a junior-high semiformal dance, instruments everywhere...what am I getting myself into? It was bouncy and fun, little bits of so many things. The keys-plus-horns here sounds like John Vanderslice, his voice sounds like Conor Oberst, hers like Victoria Williams. That song sounds like Rilo Kiley, this one has faux-sultry horns like the theme song to an '80s cop show, that other one is a dead ringer for some mid-'80s lite-rock, but in a fun way...a ton of fans of the band there singing along and cheering. Turns out it was their second-to-last show ever. Caught a little of Calvin Johnson, and the second he opened his mouth, I remembered what I actually like about him, other than his finger-in-every-pie prolific-ness (prolificity?). Halobenders! I also remembered that I haven't liked him since, because he needs Doug Martsch to make him rock. The place was nearly empty, so I thought I'd chance it on coming back for M. Ward later, and impulsively headed across town to see Oxford Collapse having no idea who they were. Dork-punk with a solid grounding in actual old-skool punk, pretty damn good. Headed back to the Crystal to find a big-ass line for M. Ward. Strike one. They sold all sorts of tickets, leaving us wristbanders out of luck. Went to Berbati's instead as plan B. Port O'Brien was essentially just an unfortunate and unnecessary melding of suburban-bar-band country-blues and scream-punk. I liked the last song okay. Pseudosix is a band I knew of, but couldn't remember why. They've got two songs on PDX Pop Now comps, it turns out. Cute and lovely, but shading much more country-twang than I expected. The violin actually saved them. It wasn't at all fiddle. Last up, and the reason I was there: Nada Surf. For a guy who writes very pretty songs and really only put together one good (damn good) album, the live shows are consistently amazing. He rocked Killian's Red (not an ode to the beer, but about drinking in a dive bar under a neon sign, wishing for better) and Fruit Fly (seriously, who'da thunk Fruit Fly could rock?). I still don't like the stuff that isn't on Let Go as much (later in the weekend, I talked to someone who gushed, "That disc is somehow...better than it is," which is weird, because it was while I was seeing John Vanderslice, and a friend of mine recently used those exact words to describe a song of his).
Okay, that's more than enough for now. Friday and Saturday to come.
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