There are few bands that I’d actually want to see two nights in a row. Truthfully, Guster isn’t really one of them either, but I wound up going a second night because single night tickets for both nights were sold out but two night tickets were available. Nonetheless, I was happy to have an opportunity to see them again, despite knowing I’d see a very similar show. Much of it was a repeat of the previous evening. However, it ended up being a different experience because Schiz joined me instead and I was seeing the show through much more inebriated eyes.
Though many of the staples of the previous evening’s first set were present again, several variations were played including new songs “Diane” and “Satellite” and old favorite “Rocket Ship.” A second set for Lost and Gone Forever played out in a very similar fashion, though was still enjoyable.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Guster, 9:30 Club, Washington, DC
It’s hard to believe that it’s been a decade since the Guster’s Lost and Gone Forever, which though their third album, played a crucial role in launching them to mainstream success. In honor of the anniversary, Guster played a handful of shows, including back-to-back shows at the 9:30 Club, that would feature a set that included Lost and Gone Forever in its entirety. Given the material, the performance was in front of a crowd that was noticeably older than the average one at the 9:30 Club. Though I had seen Guster many times before, Lost and Gone Forever has always been one of my favorite albums, so I was certainly looking forward to the opportunity to see it live, especially getting to see the show with my sister, who accompanied me in developing an infatuation for Guster in high school.
Without an opener, Guster took the stage a little after 8:30. Their first set was a nice mix of older (pre-Lost and Gone Forever) songs, including “X-Ray Eyes,” “Demons,” and “Airport Song” mixed in with newer selections like “Keep It Together” and “One Man Wrecking Machine.” They also included a clever, even if cliché, cover of “Don’t Fear the Reaper” following a rendition of their original song “Red Oyster Cult,” complete with drum tech Scooter performing an homage to Will Ferrell’s cowbell obsessed Saturday Night Live character.
Between sets, a short video chronicling the production of the album played, featuring interviews with a much younger looking band and producer Steve Lillywhite. Taking the stage again, the band kept their promise, launching into “What You Wish For,” the album’s first track. Though front man Ryan Miller’s assessment was correct in that the order of the album doesn’t necessarily flow as the best possible live set, no one in the audience cared as we were all so happy to hear the album that introduced many of us to the band. It couldn’t even be ruined by Ryan’s more than occasional forgetting of words or getting lost in the song. Guster worked their way through the album, adding a new flavor and guest performers to many of the songs, including strings on “Either Way,” brass on “Fa Fa,” and even a children’s choir on “All the Way Up to Heaven.” Even though the latter added little to the robustness of the performance, it was certainly a fun novelty. I fell in love with the album all over again, wishing that Guster’s newer material was able to capture the more raw essence of their first albums. I longed for their newer music to display their more exuberant attitude and indie sound which was lost on their newer, more mainstream work, especially what I considered to be the band’s strongest point, ample use of Brian Rosenworcel’s hands racing across the bongo drums.
To thunderous applause, Guster finished the final song on the album, “Rainy Day,” but returned shortly for an encore that included a classic version of “Come Downstairs and Say Hello” and a completely unplugged version of “Jesus on the Radio,” a novel concept which I had never seen attempted before at the 9:30 Club or any other venue.
Without an opener, Guster took the stage a little after 8:30. Their first set was a nice mix of older (pre-Lost and Gone Forever) songs, including “X-Ray Eyes,” “Demons,” and “Airport Song” mixed in with newer selections like “Keep It Together” and “One Man Wrecking Machine.” They also included a clever, even if cliché, cover of “Don’t Fear the Reaper” following a rendition of their original song “Red Oyster Cult,” complete with drum tech Scooter performing an homage to Will Ferrell’s cowbell obsessed Saturday Night Live character.
Between sets, a short video chronicling the production of the album played, featuring interviews with a much younger looking band and producer Steve Lillywhite. Taking the stage again, the band kept their promise, launching into “What You Wish For,” the album’s first track. Though front man Ryan Miller’s assessment was correct in that the order of the album doesn’t necessarily flow as the best possible live set, no one in the audience cared as we were all so happy to hear the album that introduced many of us to the band. It couldn’t even be ruined by Ryan’s more than occasional forgetting of words or getting lost in the song. Guster worked their way through the album, adding a new flavor and guest performers to many of the songs, including strings on “Either Way,” brass on “Fa Fa,” and even a children’s choir on “All the Way Up to Heaven.” Even though the latter added little to the robustness of the performance, it was certainly a fun novelty. I fell in love with the album all over again, wishing that Guster’s newer material was able to capture the more raw essence of their first albums. I longed for their newer music to display their more exuberant attitude and indie sound which was lost on their newer, more mainstream work, especially what I considered to be the band’s strongest point, ample use of Brian Rosenworcel’s hands racing across the bongo drums.
To thunderous applause, Guster finished the final song on the album, “Rainy Day,” but returned shortly for an encore that included a classic version of “Come Downstairs and Say Hello” and a completely unplugged version of “Jesus on the Radio,” a novel concept which I had never seen attempted before at the 9:30 Club or any other venue.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Matisyahu, The Fillmore, San Francisco, California
I’ve had mixed experiences with Matisyahu. He put on a great show at Virgin Fest in summer 2007, but his fall 2008 show in Baltimore left much to be desired. While his festival set list was filled with fan favorites and a desire to interact with the audience, he was quiet and lethargic in Baltimore, choosing to allow an array of other artists utilize his stage, even if undeserving. His weak set list and unenthusiastic attitude didn’t capture the essence of his album or persona. There was too much humming; not enough rocking.
So when the opportunity arose to see him again at San Francisco’s historic Fillmore Auditorium touring to promote his newest album “Light,” I was truthfully more excited about the venue than the act, only deciding to go because Lauren expressed interest. I was pleasantly surprised and impressed by nearly all aspects of the show. With his traditional backing band consisting of guitar, keyboards, bass, and drums, Matisyahu unleashed an entire evening of powerful and soulful music, with his trademark fusion of hip hop, beatboxing, dancehall reggae, and alternative rock sprinkled with traditional Hasidic cantors in a mix of Hebrew and Yiddish. He was effortless in exciting the crowd with any number of his popular hits, now spanning several albums. Mixing in old with new, Lauren and I danced and jumped to many of our favorite songs, including “Chop ‘em Down,” “Exaltation,” “King Without a Crown” and “Warrior,” allowing each member of his band ample time for guitar or drum solos when appropriate. Though his new album isn’t one of my favorites, hearing a few of the selections live allowed me to enjoy them at a new level. After a short break, he brought out local artist, Lynx, with whom he performed a duet of crowd favorite, “Beat Box.” Playing off each other, it was one of the better versions of the song I’ve heard. For the final song of the encore, he selected his arguably most famous song, “Jerusalem”, which I had yet to hear live. His choice to play the remixed “Out of the Darkness Comes Light” version of the song was an especially good choice to fully utilize the presence of the band. I’m seriously considering seeing the show again at the end of November when Matisyahu makes his way to the east coast.
So when the opportunity arose to see him again at San Francisco’s historic Fillmore Auditorium touring to promote his newest album “Light,” I was truthfully more excited about the venue than the act, only deciding to go because Lauren expressed interest. I was pleasantly surprised and impressed by nearly all aspects of the show. With his traditional backing band consisting of guitar, keyboards, bass, and drums, Matisyahu unleashed an entire evening of powerful and soulful music, with his trademark fusion of hip hop, beatboxing, dancehall reggae, and alternative rock sprinkled with traditional Hasidic cantors in a mix of Hebrew and Yiddish. He was effortless in exciting the crowd with any number of his popular hits, now spanning several albums. Mixing in old with new, Lauren and I danced and jumped to many of our favorite songs, including “Chop ‘em Down,” “Exaltation,” “King Without a Crown” and “Warrior,” allowing each member of his band ample time for guitar or drum solos when appropriate. Though his new album isn’t one of my favorites, hearing a few of the selections live allowed me to enjoy them at a new level. After a short break, he brought out local artist, Lynx, with whom he performed a duet of crowd favorite, “Beat Box.” Playing off each other, it was one of the better versions of the song I’ve heard. For the final song of the encore, he selected his arguably most famous song, “Jerusalem”, which I had yet to hear live. His choice to play the remixed “Out of the Darkness Comes Light” version of the song was an especially good choice to fully utilize the presence of the band. I’m seriously considering seeing the show again at the end of November when Matisyahu makes his way to the east coast.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Treasure Island Music Festival, Treasure Island, San Francisco, California
Saturday
Though I would have gone out there anyway at some point in the fall, I scheduled my trip to visit Lauren in San Francisco around the Treasure Island Music Festival, held each year on Treasure Island, an artificial island in the San Francisco Bay just north of the SF-Oakland Bay Bridge, featuring two days of mostly indie music over a mid-October weekend. Unfortunately, we caused ourselves much more strife than necessary in assuming that we could wait till the last minute to secure tickets, and the Saturday show was sold out in the day or two prior to the show. Though we were able to get Sunday tickets, attempts to get a Saturday set on Craiglist proved frustrating and fruitless. Through a friend of a friend, Lauren was able to get one ticket, but we were still short a second come Saturday morning. Late morning, we headed down to AT&T Park, home of the San Francisco Giants, to catch a shuttle to the island, in hopes that we’d be able to pick up an extra ticket somewhere along the way.
On our walk, we happened to cross paths with a guy who also seemed to be on his way to the show. Not sure exactly where to go himself, he joined us in our search. As luck would have it, he was also in possession of an extra ticket, which he was looking to unload. We chatted with him on the way to the venue and purchased his extra 2 day ticket at a discount. We were now up a ticket as we had an extra one for the following day. Go figure.
It was barely noon, much earlier than we would have arrived if we hhadn'tbeen in need of a ticket, so we just decided to take advantage of it by seeing the immediate vicinity of the island and festival grounds. Treasure Island is a medium sized festival, drawing a crowd of approximately 25-30,000 people each day. With two stages, it’s possible to catch every song of every band playing, even if you don’t ever move from a blanket placed somewhere between both stages. When one band finishes, the next is set up and ready to play on the opposing stage. As in any festival, tents and stands line the pathways, selling anything from burritos and beer to sweaters and stickers. The grounds also featured a rickety old Ferris Wheel, which by mid afternoon, had a long line that didn't seem to justify the experience.
The first day’s line up had a more electronic and hip hop focus, which drew a younger crowd. It was a beautiful, sunny day, probably reaching 80 degrees at least. Being a music festival in the bay area, the freaks were certainly out, and many attendees adorned costumes, including animals, stormtroopers, pirates, and pimps. A few motorized cupcake costumes/go-carts also drove about the walkways early in the day before the crowd thickened.
The day’s music stated with The Limousines on the main stage, a more local act featuring a duo of a vocalist and a laptop-based DJ. Following on the other stage were the Crown City Rockers, who blended rap lyrics with jazz rock, as popularized by the Roots. We next saw MURS, which to my undiscerning ear for hip hop, sounded like more “typical” hip hop. While enjoyable, it lacked anything particularly memorable or unique to me, just lyrics over more traditional beats. However, I do give MURS credit for maintaining more positive attitudes to life, responsibility, and relationships with women than many other artists.
It was still early afternoon when Passion Pit took the main stage, one of the acts for which I was most excited. Though I did see them at Bonnaroo in June, I made the terrible mistake of getting a little too inebriated to fully enjoy the show, so I was thrilled for a second chance to see them live. Passion Pit only came on the scene in the last year, but hit the ground running with an indie pop and electronic mix that sparks giddiness and exuberance. Their full stage of five members features a background of a traditional drum kit and bass, but excludes guitars in favor of a slew of keyboard, synthesizers, a laptop, and other sampling equipment to showcase catchy melodies and pulsing beats. I had very high expectations for Passion Pit, stemming from my love of their debut album, “Manners,” my recollections of their previous show, and the hype surrounding them. I was able to convince Lauren to move towards the front of the stage with me, promising that it would be the only time during the weekend that I would insist on doing so. Most of the band sounded great, as they artfully mixed the familiarity of their album with the updates and improvisation of live performance. But while the rest of the band was spot on, lead vocalist Michael Angelakos’s voice sounded weak. Normally, his easily confused for being female, falsetto voice belts out surreal, self-explorative lyrics overtop the epic melodies, but on that sunny Saturday afternoon, his voice cracked and failed to register over the rest of the instruments. I’m not sure whether he was having an off day or if his youth and inexperience on the national music scene has yet to afford him the opportunity to perfect the art of the festival live performance. Regardless, I still enjoyed their set, jumping up and down to my favorite songs, including the anthem-esque “Moth’s Wings” and “Let Your Love Grow Tall” and the dance floor appropriate “Little Secrets,” which despite the absence of the choir of 5th graders present on the album, still popped.
Next to take the main stage was The Streets, stage name of British born garage rock hip hop artist Mike Skinner. His showcasing a Cockney accent despite hailing from Birmingham allows him to spit a mix of hip hop, rhymed speech, and song, imparting introspective and philosophical lyrics. Backed by fellow Brit Kevin Mark Trail, who incorporated his own blend of R&B, soul, and hip hop, The Streets instantly developed high rapport with the audience, interacting with the crowd, with Skinner showing his regained deep appreciation for his audience and fame, which was clearly fading several years ago.
Following The Streets, we mostly took a break from music and opted to wander around the various stands, snacking and perusing clothing and art. Night was setting in as MSTRKRFT took the stage, a laptop-only duo churning out throbbing dance punk beats. Mixed with lights and the occasional voice over, it was the first time that day where the rest of the audience joined me in dancing and jumping up and down. Sampling beats while taking swigs of Crown Royal, MSTRKRFT seemed a pair that truly loved their job, as if they were just DJing their own party with 30,000 of their closest friends.
The last act of the second stage for the evening was Girl Talk, stage name of Gregg Gillis, a mash up artist sampling everything from Bon Jovi to Michael Jackson, from Jay-Z to Radiohead. This takes advantage of a nearly universal familiarity of his music, even for those who’ve never heard his name or his compilations prior. Since not too much else is happening on-stage, he invites a hundred or so sweaty kids up to join him, probably on the sole condition that they are moving the entire set. Again the crowd was dancing and jumping, with Lauren and I happily in the thick up it. A sober day for the both of us, it was the one show we saw that I really would have liked to have had a few drinks in me.
MGMT closed down a great day of music on the main stage. Prior to their set they announced that they would play the entirety of the album that launched them to success, 2007’s “Oracular Spectacular.” The crowd was excited as they immediately launched into “Time to Pretend,” keeping with the day’s theme of blending synthesizer indie pop and electronic with traditional rock instrumentation. Since many of the fan favorites on the album are loaded towards the front, people began streaming out as they got into their set. In a way, it was a wise move to ensure a more even flow of people to the buses returning people to San Francisco. After hearing a rendition of “Kids” I knew that I had heard all the songs I really felt I needed to hear, and we made our exit with the other throngs of people. Another fan standing with me compared it to leaving a football game early during a blowout: you’re tired and the exciting part is over, so why not just home. It was a long day of music, and while I’d like to blame our early departure on Lauren, I have to admit that I was equally ready to head home when she indicated that she wanted to head to the buses. It was nearly a 12 hour day after all.
We rushed to the buses, dreading the long lines that would take the masses home. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the logistics operated like clockwork. People were funneled onto buses for their return trip home, and we were even able to divest our Sunday extra ticket in line, taking only a reasonable hit.
Sunday
With tickets in hand, getting to the show the next day was much more relaxing. Though not appreciated, it certainly was fitting for the mellower rock-focused day of shows that the weather had cooled drastically. Lauren and I bundled up in sweaters, fleeces, and caps as the chilly wind whipped across Treasure Island. As compared to the day before, the crowd was much older and had checked the weather report and was properly dressed, though there were still a few poor souls in t-shirts and shorts.
We arrived mid afternoon in time for Grizzly Bear, which was equally bundled for warmth on the main stage. Grizzly Bear mixes psychedelic pop, folk, and experimental rock, utilizing acoustic guitars and ethereal vocal harmonies. Though mostly a subdued set, it lived up towards the end as the sun tried to peak through the clouds. We opted to not stray over to the other stage as much on the second day, as it was really only a few of the acts that we wanted to see. This afforded us the opportunity to plant ourselves on a blanket for a good part of the day, huddling together against the ground where it was warmest.
The next act on the main stage was Beirut. Since I mistakenly thought was a one man project, I was surprised by their slew of performers playing a variety of Eastern European influenced folk-pop music, complete with a brass section and an accordion, which I have grown to appreciate in recent years with other gypsy fusions bands like DeVotchKa and Gogol Bordello. Singer Zac Condon’s vocals complimented the meandering wa-wa sound of the trumpets and tuba. Except for a brief tuba solo which got some in the crowd moving, Beirut’s slow set list, like Grizzly Bear’s, was well suited for a chilly afternoon beneath the clouds.
The next band to take the main stage, The Decemberists, were another I saw at Bonnaroo earlier this year, but I only stayed briefly, instead opting to catch the majority of the Mars Volta on that Saturday afternoon in Tennessee. It was only in seeing them again that I realized what a mistake I might have made. Though only comprised of 5 official members, the stage was filled with additional players on keyboards, guitars, and backing vocals. Being the first band to play after the sun went down, they were also the first I saw to really rock hard on that chilly evening. Like MGMT the night before, the Decemberists chose to play the entirety of their most recent album, “The Hazards of Love.” I don’t remember them announcing it before or during their set though, only realizing looking at the set list online later. However, I certainly did notice that I wasn’t hearing any of my favorite selections from their previous album. “The Hazards of Love” is clearly one of those albums that translated well to a live setting, transitioning from high to low and fast to slow seamlessly over the course of the set. The band seemed to include some extended jams in certain sections, though this may have just been an illusion as their set took only an hour, within a few minutes of time required to play the original album on a stereo.
Like The Decemberists, I had seen the closing act of the evening, The Flaming Lips, earlier this year, at the Green Apple Festival on Earth Day on the National Mall. The first time around, I was very impressed with their psychedelic and unique performance. I was excited for Lauren to get to see and enjoy such an off the wall show. This time around many of the same themes remained, with perhaps some even more extreme elements. As their set began, the stage erupted in an array of flashing rainbow colors as members of the band began to warm up. A video of a naked woman dancing seductively played on the jumbotron, culminating with a close up of her psychedelic crotch and several other members of the band, including front man Wayne Coyne, making a grand entrance through the screen from a mechanism on the other side. Coyne immediately got into his giant plastic bubble, a la the bubble boy, and paraded atop the outstretched hands of the crowd while confetti and streamers blanketed the air. The spectacle of the show was certainly grand, and I frequently hoisted Lauren in the air so see could see the celebration. However, after the novelty of the event faded, the performance left much to be desired. Coyne insisted on making repeated attempts to converse with the audience, in some cases seeming to forget that he was in the middle of a song and his band mates were expecting the lyrics to the next verse. Though admittedly, as dizzying as trippy close-ups of his face on the screen were, they weren’t out of place amongst the flurry of paper, explosions of confetti, dancing girls, and creature costumes. Having believed we have achieved the desired effect from the show and the weekend, we again left the show before the final curtain call, deciding to retreat from the cold night air to the warmth of the bus.
Though I would have gone out there anyway at some point in the fall, I scheduled my trip to visit Lauren in San Francisco around the Treasure Island Music Festival, held each year on Treasure Island, an artificial island in the San Francisco Bay just north of the SF-Oakland Bay Bridge, featuring two days of mostly indie music over a mid-October weekend. Unfortunately, we caused ourselves much more strife than necessary in assuming that we could wait till the last minute to secure tickets, and the Saturday show was sold out in the day or two prior to the show. Though we were able to get Sunday tickets, attempts to get a Saturday set on Craiglist proved frustrating and fruitless. Through a friend of a friend, Lauren was able to get one ticket, but we were still short a second come Saturday morning. Late morning, we headed down to AT&T Park, home of the San Francisco Giants, to catch a shuttle to the island, in hopes that we’d be able to pick up an extra ticket somewhere along the way.
On our walk, we happened to cross paths with a guy who also seemed to be on his way to the show. Not sure exactly where to go himself, he joined us in our search. As luck would have it, he was also in possession of an extra ticket, which he was looking to unload. We chatted with him on the way to the venue and purchased his extra 2 day ticket at a discount. We were now up a ticket as we had an extra one for the following day. Go figure.
It was barely noon, much earlier than we would have arrived if we hhadn'tbeen in need of a ticket, so we just decided to take advantage of it by seeing the immediate vicinity of the island and festival grounds. Treasure Island is a medium sized festival, drawing a crowd of approximately 25-30,000 people each day. With two stages, it’s possible to catch every song of every band playing, even if you don’t ever move from a blanket placed somewhere between both stages. When one band finishes, the next is set up and ready to play on the opposing stage. As in any festival, tents and stands line the pathways, selling anything from burritos and beer to sweaters and stickers. The grounds also featured a rickety old Ferris Wheel, which by mid afternoon, had a long line that didn't seem to justify the experience.The first day’s line up had a more electronic and hip hop focus, which drew a younger crowd. It was a beautiful, sunny day, probably reaching 80 degrees at least. Being a music festival in the bay area, the freaks were certainly out, and many attendees adorned costumes, including animals, stormtroopers, pirates, and pimps. A few motorized cupcake costumes/go-carts also drove about the walkways early in the day before the crowd thickened.
The day’s music stated with The Limousines on the main stage, a more local act featuring a duo of a vocalist and a laptop-based DJ. Following on the other stage were the Crown City Rockers, who blended rap lyrics with jazz rock, as popularized by the Roots. We next saw MURS, which to my undiscerning ear for hip hop, sounded like more “typical” hip hop. While enjoyable, it lacked anything particularly memorable or unique to me, just lyrics over more traditional beats. However, I do give MURS credit for maintaining more positive attitudes to life, responsibility, and relationships with women than many other artists.
It was still early afternoon when Passion Pit took the main stage, one of the acts for which I was most excited. Though I did see them at Bonnaroo in June, I made the terrible mistake of getting a little too inebriated to fully enjoy the show, so I was thrilled for a second chance to see them live. Passion Pit only came on the scene in the last year, but hit the ground running with an indie pop and electronic mix that sparks giddiness and exuberance. Their full stage of five members features a background of a traditional drum kit and bass, but excludes guitars in favor of a slew of keyboard, synthesizers, a laptop, and other sampling equipment to showcase catchy melodies and pulsing beats. I had very high expectations for Passion Pit, stemming from my love of their debut album, “Manners,” my recollections of their previous show, and the hype surrounding them. I was able to convince Lauren to move towards the front of the stage with me, promising that it would be the only time during the weekend that I would insist on doing so. Most of the band sounded great, as they artfully mixed the familiarity of their album with the updates and improvisation of live performance. But while the rest of the band was spot on, lead vocalist Michael Angelakos’s voice sounded weak. Normally, his easily confused for being female, falsetto voice belts out surreal, self-explorative lyrics overtop the epic melodies, but on that sunny Saturday afternoon, his voice cracked and failed to register over the rest of the instruments. I’m not sure whether he was having an off day or if his youth and inexperience on the national music scene has yet to afford him the opportunity to perfect the art of the festival live performance. Regardless, I still enjoyed their set, jumping up and down to my favorite songs, including the anthem-esque “Moth’s Wings” and “Let Your Love Grow Tall” and the dance floor appropriate “Little Secrets,” which despite the absence of the choir of 5th graders present on the album, still popped.
Next to take the main stage was The Streets, stage name of British born garage rock hip hop artist Mike Skinner. His showcasing a Cockney accent despite hailing from Birmingham allows him to spit a mix of hip hop, rhymed speech, and song, imparting introspective and philosophical lyrics. Backed by fellow Brit Kevin Mark Trail, who incorporated his own blend of R&B, soul, and hip hop, The Streets instantly developed high rapport with the audience, interacting with the crowd, with Skinner showing his regained deep appreciation for his audience and fame, which was clearly fading several years ago.
Following The Streets, we mostly took a break from music and opted to wander around the various stands, snacking and perusing clothing and art. Night was setting in as MSTRKRFT took the stage, a laptop-only duo churning out throbbing dance punk beats. Mixed with lights and the occasional voice over, it was the first time that day where the rest of the audience joined me in dancing and jumping up and down. Sampling beats while taking swigs of Crown Royal, MSTRKRFT seemed a pair that truly loved their job, as if they were just DJing their own party with 30,000 of their closest friends.
The last act of the second stage for the evening was Girl Talk, stage name of Gregg Gillis, a mash up artist sampling everything from Bon Jovi to Michael Jackson, from Jay-Z to Radiohead. This takes advantage of a nearly universal familiarity of his music, even for those who’ve never heard his name or his compilations prior. Since not too much else is happening on-stage, he invites a hundred or so sweaty kids up to join him, probably on the sole condition that they are moving the entire set. Again the crowd was dancing and jumping, with Lauren and I happily in the thick up it. A sober day for the both of us, it was the one show we saw that I really would have liked to have had a few drinks in me.
MGMT closed down a great day of music on the main stage. Prior to their set they announced that they would play the entirety of the album that launched them to success, 2007’s “Oracular Spectacular.” The crowd was excited as they immediately launched into “Time to Pretend,” keeping with the day’s theme of blending synthesizer indie pop and electronic with traditional rock instrumentation. Since many of the fan favorites on the album are loaded towards the front, people began streaming out as they got into their set. In a way, it was a wise move to ensure a more even flow of people to the buses returning people to San Francisco. After hearing a rendition of “Kids” I knew that I had heard all the songs I really felt I needed to hear, and we made our exit with the other throngs of people. Another fan standing with me compared it to leaving a football game early during a blowout: you’re tired and the exciting part is over, so why not just home. It was a long day of music, and while I’d like to blame our early departure on Lauren, I have to admit that I was equally ready to head home when she indicated that she wanted to head to the buses. It was nearly a 12 hour day after all.
We rushed to the buses, dreading the long lines that would take the masses home. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the logistics operated like clockwork. People were funneled onto buses for their return trip home, and we were even able to divest our Sunday extra ticket in line, taking only a reasonable hit.
Sunday
With tickets in hand, getting to the show the next day was much more relaxing. Though not appreciated, it certainly was fitting for the mellower rock-focused day of shows that the weather had cooled drastically. Lauren and I bundled up in sweaters, fleeces, and caps as the chilly wind whipped across Treasure Island. As compared to the day before, the crowd was much older and had checked the weather report and was properly dressed, though there were still a few poor souls in t-shirts and shorts.
We arrived mid afternoon in time for Grizzly Bear, which was equally bundled for warmth on the main stage. Grizzly Bear mixes psychedelic pop, folk, and experimental rock, utilizing acoustic guitars and ethereal vocal harmonies. Though mostly a subdued set, it lived up towards the end as the sun tried to peak through the clouds. We opted to not stray over to the other stage as much on the second day, as it was really only a few of the acts that we wanted to see. This afforded us the opportunity to plant ourselves on a blanket for a good part of the day, huddling together against the ground where it was warmest.
The next act on the main stage was Beirut. Since I mistakenly thought was a one man project, I was surprised by their slew of performers playing a variety of Eastern European influenced folk-pop music, complete with a brass section and an accordion, which I have grown to appreciate in recent years with other gypsy fusions bands like DeVotchKa and Gogol Bordello. Singer Zac Condon’s vocals complimented the meandering wa-wa sound of the trumpets and tuba. Except for a brief tuba solo which got some in the crowd moving, Beirut’s slow set list, like Grizzly Bear’s, was well suited for a chilly afternoon beneath the clouds.
The next band to take the main stage, The Decemberists, were another I saw at Bonnaroo earlier this year, but I only stayed briefly, instead opting to catch the majority of the Mars Volta on that Saturday afternoon in Tennessee. It was only in seeing them again that I realized what a mistake I might have made. Though only comprised of 5 official members, the stage was filled with additional players on keyboards, guitars, and backing vocals. Being the first band to play after the sun went down, they were also the first I saw to really rock hard on that chilly evening. Like MGMT the night before, the Decemberists chose to play the entirety of their most recent album, “The Hazards of Love.” I don’t remember them announcing it before or during their set though, only realizing looking at the set list online later. However, I certainly did notice that I wasn’t hearing any of my favorite selections from their previous album. “The Hazards of Love” is clearly one of those albums that translated well to a live setting, transitioning from high to low and fast to slow seamlessly over the course of the set. The band seemed to include some extended jams in certain sections, though this may have just been an illusion as their set took only an hour, within a few minutes of time required to play the original album on a stereo.
Like The Decemberists, I had seen the closing act of the evening, The Flaming Lips, earlier this year, at the Green Apple Festival on Earth Day on the National Mall. The first time around, I was very impressed with their psychedelic and unique performance. I was excited for Lauren to get to see and enjoy such an off the wall show. This time around many of the same themes remained, with perhaps some even more extreme elements. As their set began, the stage erupted in an array of flashing rainbow colors as members of the band began to warm up. A video of a naked woman dancing seductively played on the jumbotron, culminating with a close up of her psychedelic crotch and several other members of the band, including front man Wayne Coyne, making a grand entrance through the screen from a mechanism on the other side. Coyne immediately got into his giant plastic bubble, a la the bubble boy, and paraded atop the outstretched hands of the crowd while confetti and streamers blanketed the air. The spectacle of the show was certainly grand, and I frequently hoisted Lauren in the air so see could see the celebration. However, after the novelty of the event faded, the performance left much to be desired. Coyne insisted on making repeated attempts to converse with the audience, in some cases seeming to forget that he was in the middle of a song and his band mates were expecting the lyrics to the next verse. Though admittedly, as dizzying as trippy close-ups of his face on the screen were, they weren’t out of place amongst the flurry of paper, explosions of confetti, dancing girls, and creature costumes. Having believed we have achieved the desired effect from the show and the weekend, we again left the show before the final curtain call, deciding to retreat from the cold night air to the warmth of the bus.
Friday, October 9, 2009
Yonder Mountain String Band, 930 Club, Washington, DC
Of my many concerts, I’ve seen few bands as many times as progressive bluegrass quartet Yonder Mountain String Band. Though their live albums often don’t compare, their live performances are of consistently high caliber. Friday night was perhaps my sixth or seventh YMSB show and my second at the 930 Club, one of my favorite venues. Schiz, who is a staple of nearly every Yonder show I’ve seen, picked up tickets for the both of us along with his girlfriend Ali and friend Jason. We arrived at the venue shortly before show time, too late for any openers that might have played. Though the show had sold out shortly before we walked in, the floor seemed fairly scant, though much of the crowd was dressed in plaid and other appropriate bluegrass apparel. Within a few minutes after 9pm, Yonder was on stage with their traditional set up of banjo, guitar, mandolin, and upright bass.
We found a spot towards the back right corner and joined the crowd in getting warmed up for the show. They threw together a nice mix of old and new songs. Slow and tender selections would transition into rhythmic and energetic jams. The venue filled up as the crowd excitedly danced and jumped to favorites like “Left Me in a Hole,” “Too Late Now,” “Idaho,” “Just the Same,” “If There's Still Ramblin' in the Rambler (Let Him Go),” and “Troubled Mind.” I found myself not knowing the names of many of the songs, but being inexplicably familiar with many of the words, notes, and rhythms. I gradually felt our group slide further back in search of more room to dance. The plucking banjo and smooth base lines encouraged the crowd to hoedown, with some groups breaking off into circles, men swinging their female partners. Towards the end of the show, I joined a small group of guys in a symphony of clapping hands, each member choosing an interval that would be distinct yet still harmonious with the group. Two sets, two encores, and three and a half hours later, my face glowed from both a smile and an ample amount of sweat.
We found a spot towards the back right corner and joined the crowd in getting warmed up for the show. They threw together a nice mix of old and new songs. Slow and tender selections would transition into rhythmic and energetic jams. The venue filled up as the crowd excitedly danced and jumped to favorites like “Left Me in a Hole,” “Too Late Now,” “Idaho,” “Just the Same,” “If There's Still Ramblin' in the Rambler (Let Him Go),” and “Troubled Mind.” I found myself not knowing the names of many of the songs, but being inexplicably familiar with many of the words, notes, and rhythms. I gradually felt our group slide further back in search of more room to dance. The plucking banjo and smooth base lines encouraged the crowd to hoedown, with some groups breaking off into circles, men swinging their female partners. Towards the end of the show, I joined a small group of guys in a symphony of clapping hands, each member choosing an interval that would be distinct yet still harmonious with the group. Two sets, two encores, and three and a half hours later, my face glowed from both a smile and an ample amount of sweat.
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