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musicfest, northwest!: day three

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Well, last night was marred by something that was bound to happen eventually: I got rejected from the Doug Fir Lounge for having an expired license. So day three of MFNW was a little choppy, and it was mostly my fault, so let me explain in more detail…

Paul’s friend Christina (a? Christine? I’m so bad with names. guh) was going to pick us up and drive us around so that we didn’t have to rely on the bus system, which was very very nice of her. When I wanted to leave the house, however, she had not gotten back to Paul, and so they were planning on taking the bus downtown and we would meet up with her there. So I took the bus to Paul’s house, and while I was on my way, they got in touch with Christina and she said she’d be there around five. Which made me glad I bought a two hour pass instead of an all day pass. She did in fact arrive around five, due to terrible traffic, and we were off to the Wonder Ballroom.

I don’t know when we got to the Wonder but due to awful parking and our relative lateness, we ended up not being able to see Britt Daniel. So that sucked. But I did eat a lot of free ice cream, which was pretty awesome, and I got some “Ice Cream Man” stickers for my guitar.

In the end we decided to skip Britt and Built to Spill and head up to Backspace, which had the Rainy States, who I had never heard of. They’re apparently a pretty new band from Portland. While seeming incredibly nervous (especially the lead singer … but it was cute), and even barring a broken string hastily restrung by the guitar player, they played a lovely set. I think the vocals could’ve been mixed a bit higher, cause I couldn’t hear them, but other than that I enjoyed them more than I was expecting! And that’s always a plus.

With their set over, we took the trip to the Doug Fir to see Laura Gibson. Okay, let me preface this by saying I understand that I ought to just get a new license instead of bitching about the logistics of having an expired license and getting into bars, and that there’s probably some insurance problems involved with bars having people with expired licenses in them, but it’s all ridiculous nonsense. All of it. We drove across the bridge, we found an excellent parking spot, we were all having a good time, and for some reason the moment I saw the Doug Fir come into view I knew we were going to have problems. And we did. Everyone else got in, and then the bouncer saw my ID and immediately said, cut and dry, “It’s expired.” And I said, “So I can’t come in?” and he shook his head. And everyone else was kind enough to come out with me and go back across the bridge to the Crystal and more awful parking, but in lieu of the fact that I need to get a new license, let me just bitch for a second.

The only thing that will allow you or deny you access to the seamy insides of a bar is your age. The only way to verify your age is with a valid ID, whether it be driver’s license, identification card, or passport. A driver’s license has your information on it, including your birthdate. Thus, it seems to me, the expiration date of said license has no bearing whatsoever on the validity of the license. A license is valid if it is a legally obtained license that has my proof of age on it. I could understand if it was a fake ID with a guy who vaguely looked like me whose name was Mohammad, but for Chrissakes, it has my face and my physical specifications on it! Does it being expired automatically revert me into a 20-year-old? That’s physically impossible.

Obviously I’m ranting about a lost cause, cause it depends on the bar, and the Doug Fir has a perfectly legal right to refuse to let me in, and I should just get off my ass and get a new ID, but still, the legalities of the whole thing, especially with the new Idaho IDs, which clearly differentiate between under 21 and over 21 (literally, the under 21 ID is vertical and the over 21 is horizontal) seem silly to me. You can’t change my age. It’s obvious that my ID isn’t fake. I guess I’m wearing glasses in my ID. And I have short hair. Aw hell, I’ll just get a new license. haha.

Anyhoo. We went to the Crystal Ballroom and had difficulty parking, but we found a nice spot, even if we had to pay for it, that was right next to the Crystal. We got in just in time to see Lackthereof play (oh, and by the way, Doug Fir, I got into the over 21 section of the Crystal. I didn’t even drink a beer. Not. One. Beer!).

It would be ironic of me to say that Lackthereof lacked something in their presentation, but it’s true. They had little stage presence and their songs were all pretty much similar. It’s a side project of Menomena’s drummer, Danny Seim. Or, technically, according to Wikipedia, Menomena was a side project of Lackthereof. Whatever. All I know is that the best part of their set were the songs that devolved into straight percussion. That was pretty awesome. But the rest of the songs were somewhat droll and repetitive.

After that was John Vanderslice, who was pretty boring. I don’t know what else to say, honestly. I’ve heard good things about him and even have three of his albums, which I don’t listen to, and live he had a little more energy than Lackthereof, but not much. We ended up going upstairs and sitting on the ground waiting for the set to end. While we were there, though, a cool thing happened: the door bouncer gave us all VIP passes! Woo! That meant we could go to the cramped little VIP section where the grownups could drink beer and be slightly closer to the stage. The Crystal is weird like that — the under 21 crowd can sidle right up to the stage if they wish, but the overagers have to be corralled as though their beer was acid or something.

After Vanderslice was Vampire Weekend, who were actually very good, considering their Yupster status (Yuppie Hipster — I made that word up). Their songs were carbon copies of the album equivalents, but they were still enjoyable. The kids loooooved them. I haven’t heard that much screaming since I walked into the women’s locker room last summer. I don’t blame them, I was naked. But I think the ladies love VW’s lead singer, cause he is quite the cutie. Who apparently looks like Fred Savage, as Missy said (I don’t see the resembalance).

I still don’t understand why hipsters love this band. They’re so anti-hipster it’s funny. They sing songs about going to prep school and studying and knowing your butler’s name and shit. Songs about Cape Cod. Oh well.

They did play
a new song that I thought was so much better than anything on their last album, which gives me hope for their new stuff. We’ll see if it’s any good.

We had to leave the show early to get to Berbati’s (NOTE TO THE DOUG FIR: I got into Berbati’s not once, not twice, but thrice! with no hassles. AND I DIDN’T EVEN DRINK! I mean, fuck, I even got an over 21 wristband at Backspace. What do I have to do, Doug Fir? Do a little monkey dance for you? Bake you a cake? What?) … what was I talking about?

Oh yeah! Laaaaanghorne Slim! We had to get to Berbati’s in time to see them. When we got there Alela Diane was finishing up her solo set. I felt kinda bad because people were being extremely loud (to the extent that one love-infused kid shouted “SHUT THE FUCK UP!” to the poeple at the bar, before he turned around and finished his free verse poem about his feelings that he intended to give to Alela after the show), but it was a bar, so what can you do? All those people were there to see Langhorne Slim, and Langhorne Slim is a rowdy band, and therefore those people were rowdy.

Langhorne’s second night was just as enjoyable as their first. I had a blast. Sean was wearing cowboy boots and pants cutoff at the knee. He looked like a six year old boy. It was great.

The last show came from the Builders and the Butchers, who Paul really wanted to see. They were exceptional, but it was also 1am and we were exhausted. So we had a dilemma, whether we should stay and see them all the way through, or retire early and go to sleep.

We decided to go to sleep. Don’t fret, Builders and Butchers, you were great, but after the energy of Langhorne Slim, we couldn’t keep up anymore.

So, despite my misfortune of having an expired license, the night ended well. Tonight is the last night of MFNW, and we’ll be at the Crystal for most of it (hopefully with VIP wristbands again). After that, I have to transition into the Real World and get a friggen job!

musicfest, northwest!: day two

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Yesterday was, in some ways, more successful than Wednesday, as yesterday we got to see Del. And that’s the coolest thing ever. We lost Paul for most of the day because he was playing in a softball game, which meant it was just Missy and me. I had to be Primary Navigator, which is never, ever good. And since the Wonder Ballroom, our first location, was not downtown whatsoever, I was a little worried about how the hell we were going to get there. I have a terrible sense of direction, thanks to the almost non-existent bus system in Boise and the fact that downtown there is about four blocks total. Paul supplied us with directions and buses to take, though, and they were spot on, so thanks for that, Paul!

The Wonder was giving out free ice cream, which was bad ass. It also had this sectioned off VIP area with some cool hipster kids doing their thing (you know, looking generally apathetic). There was no line when we got there (around 5:30) so we walked in and the first band, No Age, was just beginning.

No Age is a two piece band, Randy on guitar and Dean on drums. Their songs would generally start like this: first, they would ask us if we were doing alright, a typical staple of most bands; then, they would make some horrendous noise with their guitar or drums or some kind of noise making device; after that, they would launch into an indiscernible song that was loud, punkish, and completely unlike the noise they were making earlier. The song would be two minutes long, then it would be abruptly over, and I would turn to Missy and say, “I wouldn’t be opposed it we got food right now.” No Age has gotten a lot of good press recently, but I think I’m too old to enjoy loud, annoying punk rock. I’ve got no particular angst right now, you know?

So we went to the Russell St Bar-B-Cue, which was recommended to us by Paul, and where we ate fried chicken that was approximately the size of my head. Seriously. I’ll have to make Missy send me the picture she took, but that thing was huge. And we got two sides and cornbread. Needless to say, we couldn’t finish it. There was an awkward point when Missy was outside smoking and the waiter came up to me and asked if I wanted boxes. I knew we didn’t need boxes, because we wouldn’t be able to take it into the Wonder, but for some reason my mouth said Yes, so we got boxes. We hauled our chicken into these boxes, paid, and promptly threw them away. I feel bad, but at the same time, that was too much chicken.

The line was forming for Battles, a pretty badass band of four dudes who were fed up with the typical musical structures and decided to make amazing songs with vocal samples and egregiously awesome drum beats and odd time signatures, etc etc etc. I like to call them a “futuristic tribal” band. Their percussion is so steady and repetitive that it sounds like something you’d hear in some African tribal dance, but the guitars and Tyondai’s weird vocal samples, where he would pitch shift his voice up an octave or two give it a distinctly futuristic, if not weird, feel.

So long story short, it was a loud, and awesome, set. I’ve never seen four men get so sweaty before (well, unless you count my old college days …). John Stanier, their drummer, receives special accolades for his amazing beat skills, his ability to change the time signature almost on a whim, and to start beats in what you would assume is the middle of the phrase. He looked exhausted as he played, but it was fantastic. Tyondai’s shirt started out white and ended up a dark beige as it became increasingly covered in sweat. Their songs were layered and amazing, and “Atlas” is as great live as it is on the album. All in all, I’m so glad I watched that set. I almost didn’t, but it was totally worth it.

After Battles Missy and I had a battle of our own: to try and make it back downtown. Once again, Paul had given us directions and proper buses, but in the end I fucked it up, as I am wont to do. It wasn’t terrible though, just a wrong stop on the bus, the need to take the MAX, and then some walking, at first in the wrong direction, then in the right. We had to get to the Roseland to see the Cool Kids and Del tha Funkee Homosapien!

First, though, we went to Berbati’s and listened to Love as Laughter. We weren’t feeling them that much, so we left at 9:30 for the walk to the Roseland, which is when I got a little lost and started walking south when I should’ve been walking north. We got there, though, and with plenty of time. There was a metal detector! I’ve never been to a show with a metal detector before. And a guy frisked me, and he felt my keys a little too sensually. So I gave him my number.

The Roseland is a great venue with a fairly large stage and a balcony where the 21+ kids go to sit and drink. My license is still expired, and they were scanning IDs at the lounge (probably to find felons or something), so I didn’t risk the balcony. Instead Missy and I went onto the floor and hung out.

Apparently the Roseland had been doing DJ and hip hop all night long. The Cool Kids came out when we got there. They were pretty good, nothing exceptional, but definitely fun and full of energy. The two guys have different pitched voices, which made their “harmonies” when they rapped together really cool. Their set was only about a half an hour long, which I thought was odd.

Afterward, some hype guy named Bookoo (or however he decided to spell it) came out and rapped a bit, and he was alright.

But then, then!, then Del tha Funkee Homosapien came out with A-Plus and the DJ whose name I cannot remember, and it was awesome. Del’s set included “Virus” from Deltron 3030 and “Mistadobolina” from his first album, AND “Clint Eastwood”, which I’m pretty sure featured new or different verses than the Gorillaz version. I’d bet that he brought out all the hits because the crowd was 3/4ths hipster white kids who only want to hear the hits, but I would’ve given my right arm to hear “Memory Loss” (my favorite Del track) or anything from Handsome Boy Modeling School. By the beginning of his set I smelt the familiar whiff of pot circulating through the room, and by the end of the set there were two opposing dance groups on each side of the floor. It was great. It was my first hip hop live show and I can’t wait to see more.

The second night of MFNW was a huge success, and tonight and tomorrow night are sure to be even bigger and better! I’ll keep you updated.

musicfest, northwest!: day one

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It’s incredibly beautiful and sunny out in Portland today, as it has been the last couple of days, and the weather couldn’t be better for MFNW. First, I am very grateful to Paul and Missy from /orate for being kind enough to get me into the whole festival in the first place, being a poor, recently-transported son of a bitch. This was technically my third time ever meeting anyone from the internet, though the first time doesn’t count cause she lived in Boise too. These kinds of meetings always start off weird, but Paul and Missy are very cool and not crazy or weird at all. I think that stigma of internet people being strange and/or socially inept is starting to wane, as it should, since everyone uses the internet these days, and we can’t all be socially inept, right?

Wednesday night was pretty low-key, being the start of the fest and all. After getting a quick bite and wandering around town, doing typical touristy things (Powells, of course), we descended upon Berbati’s (“descended upon” is a literary critic way of describing getting somewhere. never will they say “we walked to Berbati’s”, instead they will say, “we found ourselves in the midst of Berbati’s” or “after dinner we slowly hovered on the wings of angels to Berbati’s,” etc) and waited for the bands to play.

Okay, the bands.

First were The 1900s, who are from Chicago. They were an excellent start off to the night, a good, jangly three-minute pop band with seven members stuffed onto the relatively small stage. They have two female vocalists (i’ll get to them in a second) and one male vocalist who plays guitar and everyone did their job very well. Their sound was tight and crisp and I found myself bobbing my head to most of their song (hipsters, as you well know, are not allowed to dance, with the sole exception of “that girl”, who dances like a maniac by herself in a small circle of room she carves out with wildly flailing arms whose movements are dictated by the amount of ecstacy she has ingested prior to the show).

We were standing beside and slightly behind the stage, which was great because it meant not getting the full blast of the speakers, and also because I could stare at Jeanine O’Toole’s ass all during the set. The 1900s are a seven-piece band (though there’s another girl in the picture I’ve posted … the one on the far left, I don’t know who she is), and three of them are women. Jeanine (girl at the top of that picture) was wearing a halter top and high-rise jeans, a throwback to the 60s, and she was hot. And totally into the music, which is also hot. Anyway, my point is, Jeanine, if you ever read this blog, I think it would be great if we got married. That’s all. Simple ceremony, maybe in my backyard, some friends, cheap beers, that sort of thing. Think about it.

Did Missy get a setlist? Yes.

The second band was Norfolk & Western, which I’ve never been a huge fan of but they pulled off a great set last night. Some of you might know that N&W’s drummer, Rachel (right of the guy in the middle, Adam), used to be the drummer for the Decemberists, but her boyfriend is in Norfolk, so obviously she chose them over the D’s, which is fine. I didn’t like them before because their songs were kind of slow and I just didn’t get into it, but last night they were a little more upbeat, a little more rocking, and Rachel kicked the shit out of those drums. Seriously, I saw shit flying right out of the bass drum, hitting the audience and making them cry out in disgust. She later apologized.

N&W was a four piece last night, with the bassist and keyboardist switching roles almost every other song. Sometimes one would play guitar, too. It was pretty cool, each guy utilizing his own experience with each instrument for each song. Overall, they won me over with a strong setlist.

Did Missy get a setlist? Yes.

We unfortunately had to miss the Old 97s because we had to catch the MAX back home, so our last show of the night was Langhorne Slim. Now, I had never heard of this band before in my life, which just goes to show how un-cool and un-hipster I am (I think I was the only person in the entire room wearing shorts — it was hot that day! I am a warm person!), and Paul was super excited to see him, and I was thinking, “Oh boy, this is going to be one of those soft folk picker types, and I’ll have to sit through five minute songs about the plight of the narwhal.”

Further from the truth.

The bass player, Paul, looked like a frat boy yet played an upright bass, the drummer, Malachi, was approximately 98% too cool for school, and the lead singer, Sean, wore a golfer cap and slightly nautical looking pants, and the crowd went wild, and they started playing and it was like a more Americana Flogging Molly, and it was awesome. Langhorne Slim is a lot more diverse, musically, than Flogging Molly, which made it a whole lot nicer. The energy was 110%, loud and raucous, each song two minutes or so, except for a couple of songs stretched or medley’d together. There wasn’t one dull moment in the entire show. Their set was short (they even had to play an extra song at the end) but it was intense and amazing. I’m glad I saw them.

Did Missy get a setlist? No, cause they didn’t have one.

Overall, day one was a success, a lot of fun, and especially good to hang out with people who were very cool and tons of fun. This weekend should be a blast.