Festivus

Pitchfork Music Festival Day One: Looking Back On 'Don't Look Back'

2008-07-19T18:19:24Z

(FLAVA FAV!)

It took a field of hipsters to hold back reality t.v.’s favorite half of Public Enemy last night in Chicago’s Union Park, as Chuck D shot the gun on Pitchfork’s third effort in the festival realm with the opening diatribes of hip-hop’s seminal album, It Takes A Nation Of Millions To Hold Us Back, sans his counterpart.

Chuck D upon Flavor’s belated entrance: “Where the fuck where you on “Bring The Noise?”

Flavor Fav: “I don’t know Chuck, I was with the family.”

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If you aren’t hip to the London-based promoters All Tomorrow’s Parties series “Don’t Look Back,” in which fans are to precisely do just that in honor of full LPs that master the art of time and organization, Pfork Day One would baffle the mp3 mind.

Public Enemy were given closing honors, albeit marred by Flavor Fav’s self-promotion for his new season of Flavor Of Love, in which a sea of horn-rimmed-glassed music purists attacked with boos. Though it spurred the best comeback I’ve heard since grade school - “For all you mother fuckers boo-ing. What are you ghosts or something” - followed by an equally volatile performance of “Don’t Believe The Hype,” Flavor introducing it with a tale of a New York DJ trashing the PE name with an on air one-liner, “No more music by these suckers.”

Of course Chuck and Flavor would spit many more diatribe catchphrases, capped by a “Fuck George Bush,” a peace sign emblazoned “Fight The Power That Be,” and finally, “Only You Have The Power To Give Peace.”

(Fighting the powers that be.)

Flashback to daylight, the band that Sonic Youth took many pages from, punk stalwarts Mission Of Burma tore through Vs., to start the fest proper. The 26-year-old influential tunes were lost amidst many of the new-gen, finger-on-the-pulsers present, but that didn’t stop frothy gems like “Dead Pool” and “Fun World” from inciting fist-pumps abound. And in one awesome parallel, a four-year-old girl frolicked in the grass with traffic-control headphones in tow, while guitarist Roger Miller careened licks from his own firing-range pair in place to keep the band from breaking up again.

Wedged in between MOB and Public Enemy, came the scrappy Lou Barlow guitar fuzz of Sebadoh’s Bubble & Scrape, the youngest of the track-for-track bunch - 15 years - but the only responsible for building the foundations of emo, with its heart-on-sleeve tales of lost loves, paired with supreme guitar squall. Barlow was all smiles though, switching up the record order, referring to its host as “Pitch-fuck” and sharing tales of how much his wife hates his song about masturbation (“Homemade”). At one guitar-change point, he punkified the chorus of Tom Petty’s “The Waiting,” asserting to the crowd how great his vocal range is.

(Bubbling and Scraping)

It was interesting to see the attention spans of the masses. Through all three of these bands sets, hipster disdain was pretty minimal, save for the pocket of kids too young for Mission Of Burma.

Stay tuned for Day Two and Day Three, as buzz bands compete fifteen minutes apart from each other, where kids truly won’t look back. And Flavor Fav will not be there to entertain.

Rothbury 2008: Day 4

2008-07-11T20:29:12Z

First up on Sunday’s bill was Ingrid Michaelson, a young songwriter whose handclapped single, “The Way I Am,” helped orchestrate a recent Old Navy commercial. Michaelson has a bright future ahead of her (one that does not involve discounted jeans and stylish sweaters), and she concluded her early summer tour with a set of quirky, coffeehouse pop/rock. Kudos go to two members of her band, especially the versatile Allie Moss, as well as Miss Michaelson herself, who raps a mean version of the Fresh Prince theme.]]> Rodrigo y Gabriela’s furious guitar strumming before heading off to the forest, where two gongs had been erected around a massage chair. People would take turns lying in the chair while the nearby gongs were rattled, which energizes and motivates water molecules inside the human body. We got gonged and headed back to the main stage for Trey Anastasio’s set, where a cameo appearance by Mike Gordon drove Phish nuts into hysterics.

Over at the Sherwood Court stage, Beth Orton was doing her best to battle the noise coming from the Anastasio-Gordon reunion. She joked with the audience and sang in a tremulous voice, looking both amused and terrified to be onstage. Most of the setlist emphasized her recent move toward folk-oriented acoustic tunes, which seemed to be the theme throughout Sunday afternoon.

Perhaps the polar opposite of Beth Orton was Colbie Caillat, who sashayed onto the Ranch Arena stage looking like someone from an American Eagle advertisement. Surprisingly, she only played guitar during the “Bubbly” encore; all other songs were handled by her pack of instrument-wielding pretty boys, with guitarist Justin Young standing out as the most multitalented of the bunch. Caillat was a sight for sore eyes after three days of camping amongst 40,000 sweaty festivalgoers, but her smooth, Top 40 pop didn't quite suit the festival.

John Mayer closed out the stage with 90 minutes of guitar heroics and amusing O-faces. “Bigger Than My Body,” “Why Georgia,” “Gravity” and “Say” peppered the greatest-hits set list, which also included a bluesy cover of Duffy’s “Mercy” (which, incidentally, very few people seemed to recognize). Meanwhile, girlfriend Jennifer Aniston watched from the stage wings, prompting several girls in my vicinity to squeal and recount funny episodes of Friends.

Cars were packed and tents taken down as Phil Lesh played the festival’s final show. Warren Haynes, Steve Molitz, Jackie Green, John Molo, Larry Campbell and Teresa Williams all made cameo appearances, turning Rothbury’s final moments into an all-star jam session.

Rothbury 2008: Day 3

2008-07-10T18:49:50Z

Following an Ice-Cream-Man-provided breakfast on Saturday morning, we reached the Ranch Arena, where Dead Confederate took the stage for an early-bird batch of haunted, shoegazing southern rock tunes. “Thanks for coming,” mumbled frontman Hardy Morris to the scattered audience. “We’re Vampire Weekend.”

]]> State Radio appeared one hour later. Mixing white-boy reggae with college rock, the group sounded grittier than expected, with songs like “Guantanamo” veering strangely close to punk. When Citizen Cope ambled onstage afterwards, however, his laidback performance seemed like a downer in comparison, and we set off in search of more rock.

Enter the Black Keys, whose cranked-to-hell blues took on a primitive, manic energy during the duo’s afternoon set. Who cares if guitarist Dan Auerbach looked like he was on the verge of passing out, with waxen skin and sleep-deprived eyes? He still played guitar like a champ, while bandmate Patrick Carney attacked his drumset with deliberate, heavy-handed snare hits. I don’t remember what they played, nor do I recall them saying anything to the audience. All I know is that they rocked.

While Spearhead and Derek Trucks played early evening sets on opposite stages, the Dave Matthews Band readied itself for Rothbury’s biggest show. The Virginia-based bandmates haven’t released a studio album since 2005, but they have kept a near-constant presence on the road, especially during the summer months. All that touring has whittled the band down to a fine-tuned live machine, and DMB’s three-hour set was perhaps the best performance of the weekend. Tim Reynolds contributed guitar licks to the entire show, while a pair of horn players filled in for the absent LeRoi Moore. From tight pop/rock songs to free-form acid jazz jams (including a multi-minute scat solo by Matthews himself, who inserted the words “I’m not taking myself seriously” into his string of nonsense syllables), the Dave Matthews Band established themselves as Rothbury kings. They also do a pretty stellar version of Peter Gabriel’s “Sledgehammer.” Who knew?

Thoroughly sunburnt, exhausted and slightly ashamed for making fun of Dave Matthews in years past, we stumbled into Sherwood Forest after the show, where the innocent plan to rest our legs turned into a three-hour nap in the middle of the woods. Oops.

Rothbury 2008: Day 2

2008-07-09T19:30:43Z

Rothbury kicked into high gear on Friday, as Jakob Dylan ushered in the afternoon with a set of dusty Americana tunes. Sporting a wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses that could've reflected a nuclear blast, Dylan looked like Sheriff Cooley from O Brother, Where Art Thou? while singing in a comfortable, cool baritone. “Let me be the first up here to say ‘Happy 4th of July,’” he said, drawing applause from the crowd of Wallflowers fans and wandering passerby.

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Snoop Dogg was slated to perform next, but we still ran over to Sam Beam’s set during the 30-minute interim. After watching Iron & Wine get its jam on at Bonnaroo, it was nice to see Sam Beam take a mellow approach to his indie-folk songs. He joked with the crowd, flaunted his ever-expanding beard, and capped things off with a stirring version of “The Trapeze Swinger,” which an audience member requested as soon as he took the stage.

Back at the Odeum, a laidback Snoop Dogg urged concertgoers to wave their hands, sing along, and/or bare their breasts. We missed his grand entrance, which reportedly involved the Doggfather riding onto the stage on a tricycle, but we did show up in time to hear Snoop offer the most astute summary of the day. “It’s the motherfucking 4^th of July,” he proclaimed, “we got Snoop on stage, we smokin’ weed and gettin’ drunk!” Attaboy, Snoop. A string of fan favorites, including “Gin & Juice” and “What’s My Name?” followed.

We passed on the 311 show in order to catch the Drive-By Truckers, who offered some of the loudest rock 'n' roll on Rothbury’s roster. Mike Cooley and Patterson Hood took alternating frontman duties, while soul legend Bettye LaVette (who was born in Muskegon, Michigan, just 30 minutes south of Rothbury) sauntered onstage to sing a cut from her 2007 effort, The Scene of the Crime. Despite the Truckers’ sweaty energy, most of the crowd seemed to be waiting for Modest Mouse, who took the stage immediately afterwards for the last date of its summer tour. Isaac Brock looked absolutely fierce as he wielded his banjo (not an easy feat), while guitarist and former Smith Johnny Marr remained coolly collected.

As Widespread Panic serenaded the masses on the main stage, Of Montreal brought its flamboyant, poppy presence to The Ranch Arena around nightfall. Blue and yellow lights shone on Kevin Barnes’ costumed torso while a pack of children dressed as masked ninjas (think the Foot Clan in the original Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles film) chased him around the stage. Later, a full-grown ninja tossed baby dolls into the audience. It was bizarre, of course, but the spectacle helped draw a line between Of Montreal’s sugary, electro-pop sound and the jam-band strains of Widespread Panic. Hissing Fauna, Are You the Destroyer? dominated most of the setlist, which reached its psychedelic peak during the 12-minute “The Past is a Grotesque Animal.”

Rothbury 2008: Day 1

2008-07-08T17:20:48Z

It’s hard to find Rothbury on most maps. The tiny village is tucked away in a corner of West Michigan, where few people reside outside of the tourist season. Driving north on U.S. 31, your usual company consists of green hills, trees and families traveling to their summer homes on Lake Michigan. Detroit is a healthy three hours away, while Chicago requires a slightly longer journey (not to mention a jump from Central to Eastern Standard). A strange location for America’s newest festival? Sure, but strangeness is part of Rothbury’s charm. ]]> Rothbury Music Festival was like spending four days inside a psychedelic Disney film (albeit with sporadic nudity, drug use and glimpses of Dave Matthews). There were blue lakes, trees, costumed hippies and a forest filled with glow-in-the-dark decorations. You didn’t have to be chemically compromised to realize how idyllic this place was for a weekend of communal living, given the abundant shade and clumps of free hammocks (again, free hammocks!!!) strewn throughout Sherwood Forest.

Of course, brand-new festivals also come with their share of problems. We circled the campgrounds endlessly on Thursday afternoon, getting conflicting directions from the college-aged volunteers who had no idea where we were supposed to park. “Take a left on Clay St. and then wait until you see a road branching off,” advised a well-intentioned employee. “I don’t know what the road is called, but I think it’s over there. It might branch off at an angle.” She paused and frowned in concentration. “It… it looks like this,” she finished, slicing the air in a diagonal motion.

Forty-five minutes later, we parked the car and set up camp behind the Odeum Stage, where Rothbury’s headliners were slated to play. Bonus: our two neighboring campers were affiliated with Ice Cream Man, a too-good-to-be-true company that hands out free ice cream (again, free ice cream!!!) at musical festivals nationwide. These treats would soon form the basis of our Rothbury Food Pyramid, which also included $10 falafel sandwiches and free CLIFF bar samples.

Veteran jam artists like Mickey Hart, Perpetual Groove, and the Disco Biscuits kicked things off that evening, playing long sets to Rothbury’s earliest arrivals. Those who weren’t interested in hearing the Biscuits amble through a cover of Pink Floyd’s “Run Like Hell” retreated elsewhere: to the Guitar Hero competition, the batting cages or the ever-interesting Sherwood Forest, which was decked out in blue and red lights.

SoCo Music Experience: Denver

2008-06-30T13:53:31Z

[Above: headliners Gnarls Barkley]

Under the July sunshine, the SoCo Music Experience took over an open-air lot outside Coors Field in Denver on Saturday. The free festival drew thousands of Denverites for sunshine, interactive games, booths, and, of course, the free music. ]]> [Above: Eagle Seagull]

Sitting on one of the ubiquitous red inflated Southern Comfort couches that peppered the lot, the first act I took in on the main stage was Nebraska sextet (and Paste Emergent artist) Eagle Seagull. The band's gorgeously anthemic, multi-instrument songs were punctuated by singer Eli Mardock's raw and caustic vocals, and climaxed over frenetic beats. Themes of love and loss wove through the group's music, with song titles like "Your Beauty Is A Knife I Turn On My Throat." The band also mentioned a new EP in September, titled You're The Reason Why I'm Afraid of Dying, with a second full-length to follow in January.

With music alternating seamlessly from the main stage to the local stage sponsored by Denver's Westword alt-weekly, there were nonstop performances from 2pm until Gnarls Barkley closed things down under the stars. On the local stage, Denver band The Hot IQs once again proved themselves one to watch. They always draw a delighted response from the crowd with their hard-driving powerpop with a smartly catchy edge to it. Drummer Elaine adds panache and a solid backbone to every song as she drums with a smile on her face and effortless cool. The large facially-pierced lady next to me was impressed, yelling, "Hey, guys, your drummer is like seriously hot. No, SERIOUSLY." Sexy percussionist or no, this band is always a treat to see live.

The free festival also provided attendees with plenty of distractions between bands. Folks were lined up to try their underhand beanbag throwing at the best-named game ever, Cornhole. There were also options to pose with a giant SoCo bottle at the SPIN photo booth, get heckled at Simon Says in the SoCo lime tent (I failed), or even front a homespun rock band in the Rock Band competition with some new friends. I did all of these things, including becoming singer of a rock band for five minutes (let's just say I gave Thom Yorke a run for his money).

The music continued into the afternoon at the mainstage with the brilliant supernova of San Francisco's Bassnectar (DJ Lorin Ashton). He brought an explosively fun brand of electronic dance music to the festival, blending inventive samples of everyone from Nirvana to Snoop Dogg to the Beatles alongside his accessible beats and breaks. This act seemed equally popular with the newly-initiated spectators who found themselves unable to stand still and also the cadres of festively dressed, rabidly dancing Bassnectar fans that turned out in force, taking the stage to dance alongside Ashton. With long locks of hair often obscuring his smiling face, Ashton drew everyone in to his set in front of a mile-a-minute visual show flashing on the screen behind him. Ashton also appeared to be enjoying his set as much as the crowd, often counting off the beats with his fist pumped into the air, or looking at the crowd with a giddy sense of anticipation right before he dropped a new sample in, with barely-contained glee to see how we would react. He can take satisfaction knowing that he incited a huge party under the Denver skies.

[Above: Blonde Redhead]

The multilingual Italian/Japanese trio Blonde Redhead brought an oasis of spacey, haunting melody after the throbbing beats of Bassnectar. Keyboardist/guitarist Kazu Makino had an oddly unsettling yet beautiful voice that floated over the nervy and sometimes challenging intertwining guitar riffs. After first thinking the sun was getting into our brains, we realized we were not seeing double, and that lead singer and drummer Amedeo and Simone Pace are actually twin brothers, who together laced up the structure of the songs. Their set was impressive and nothing short of intense.

The crowd numbers swelled by sunset in anticipation of the set from Gnarls Barkley, who took the stage at a perfect summer sundown moment. With the full band dressed in all black suits with white shoes (a look we called Hives-deluxe) they closed the event with class and groove. In addition to the core duo of Cee-Lo and Danger Mouse, the band was rounded-out to a six-piece that gave the songs even more heft and fire. They blew out of the gate right away and ignited the crowd into a giant jumping entity, batting about glowstick-stuffed inflatable SoCo beachballs to the sound of the beat. After covering the Violent Femmes and working their way through some material from their new album The Odd Couple, Cee-Lo sat down for a few acoustic lovebird numbers. Towards the end of their set they finally unleashed their smash hit "Crazy," leaving fans sated as they shuffled out from a great day of free music.

The SoCo Music Experience is continuing its trek across the country this summer with upcoming stops in San Diego, Calif., Madison, Wis., Saratoga, N.Y. and Tempe, Ariz.

Read more of Heather Browne's writing at I AM FUEL, YOU ARE FRIENDS.

Beer Pong, Salesmen and British Gangsters: Cinevegas, Day 2

2008-06-16T00:37:24Z

[L-R] Stills from Wellness, The End and Last Cup: The Road to the World Series of Beer Pong

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Wellness, Directed by Jake Mahaffy

Watch the Wellness trailer:

Wellness follows Thomas Lindsay, a door-to-door salesman in the twilight of his career, struggling to make his mark and to make a living. He's reping a new company that offers a revolutionary new wellness system. Exactly what that system is, Thomas isn't sure. But with its distributor model (a.k.a. pyramid scheme), it offers quick and significant wealth. Thus, he convinces himself it's a great product, even if he can't seem to get his shipment of the product or even marketing materials (he carries around cheap photocopies of a sales document that a 5-year-old could have designed in Notepad).

As Thomas works his way through his new sales territory, he becomes more and more aware of the scam he's a party to while he also becomes more desperate to believe in the product and make sales, especially after he writes a $20,000 check to ensure his place in the company. We squirm as he goes through increasingly more elaborate mental gymnastics to convince himself and his customers. His explanations become more and more bizarre. The system will make bow movements "big and correctly shaped." It works through thought processes which change your whole electro-chemical balance. Participation is part of your "national obligation" to help your pocketbook and the economy. At one group presentation, he disappears into the bathroom to cut the tags off a new pair of oversized pants which he presents as proof of his transformation a la Subway's Jared. At the same meeting, he hangs up ridiculous motivational/sales signs (all simple text on colored paper) such as "Paradigm Shift !!!"

It's a slow-burn tragedy with many cringe-worthy moments that are sadly comic. The lead actor, Jeff Clark, is extraordinary as Thomas. He delivers an utterly realistic and sympathetic portrayal of this flawed character. I was simply blown away with his performance. Jake Mahaffy, who serves as writer, director, cinematographer and editor, presents this tale in a cinéma vérité style that recalls both Maysles' Salesman and The Office. M. Ward's music is used to nice effect. There are some technical flaws (the natural lighting is too dark in places and the background sound levels are occasionally too high), but overall Wellness is a smart and expertly executed character study.

In introducing his filim, Mahaffy described his film as a "festival film" -- the kind of film that you can only catch on the big screen at a festival. There aren't the explosions, celebrities or drama to attract even the indie studios. Yet, these films and the festivals that program them are important. They allow directors to tell unique stories, to hone their craft, to experiment. And Wellness (which won the Narrative Jury Prize at SXSW) is a prime example of why that's needed.

The End, Directed by Nicola Collins

Watch The End trailer:

In The End, director Nicola Collins tells the story of her father and his friends involved in the violent underworld of the East End of London. Partially inspired by portrayals of these types of characters in films such as Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, Collins (who played one of the twins in Snatch) wanted to show the real characters of the East End.

The film weaves interview footage with a small amount of archival footage, all in black-and-white until she shows the contrast of her father's rough-and-tumble world with the current immigrant-dominated East End. The film does provide a valuable, if flawed, portrait of a part of London that has virtually disappeared. The film is dotted with interesting characters and anecdotes. While the men own up to the title of gangster, they see themselves more as Robin Hoods or at least victims of circumstance. Seeing these real-life gangsters talk about their code, while echoing what we see in fictional films, is still fascinating.

However, the film suffers on several counts. It could benefit from a more structured narrative. There are a lot of quick edits and Collins does a good job of pulling together themes across the interviews. But as a whole, the film lacks a sense of movement toward any destination. The film also suffers from a lack of source material. Most of what's shown comes from 2-hour blocks of interviews. We could have a stronger sense of who these men are and what they've done with footage of their everyday lives, interviews with those around them (from family to alleged victims to the police), etc. The lack of source material perhaps stems from another problem: the lack of perspective. Collins clearly has affection for these guys, which is why she's able to get the interviews. However, she doesn't push (they repeatedly decline to get into details of their misdeeds) or provide any other perspective. A section of humorous bits comes across as something much funnier to friends and family.

The End is not a bad film. It's enjoyable to watch and a portrait of people we rarely see outside of highly stylized fictional versions. But it definitely left me wanting both a more journalistic and a more intimate portrait of these men.

Last Cup: The Road to the World Series of Beer Pong, Directed by Dan Lindsay

Watch the Last Cup trailer:

Last Cup premiered to an enthusiastic crowd at Cinevegas, and it has all the marks of a hit (cult or otherwise). The film follows players through the 2nd World Series of Beer Pong (WSOBP), held outside of Las Vegas in 2007. The film has fun explaining the "sport" and introducing the players.

However, what should have been (and starts out as) a romp with miniature character studies is bogged down by too much play-by-play in the finals. The directors should have spent more time following the players (and there are some good characters) in their hometowns to invest us more in the drama of the play, and then cut through the many rounds of play which become a bit tedious as shown. See King of Pong for the counter example of how to do this just right.

Nonetheless, Last Cup is an entertaining look at this growing phenomenon, and it's well worth putting up with a little monotony near the end.

I also saw the world premiere of Your Name Here, directed by Matthew Wilder and starring Bill Pullman. However, a little jet lag on a long day induced me to nod off a couple times. With its bizarre and shifting alternate realities, a brief outage leaves anyone lost. Even those fully alert seemed to have problems following the jumps. But while I can't fairly evaluate it, word around the festival combined with what I did catch leave me with no desire to give it a fair screening.

Bonnaroo 2008: Day 3

2008-06-15T20:10:34Z

Apologies: I was unable to blog about Saturday at Bonnaroo because of Saturday at Bonnaroo. It's Sunday afternoon now, and with the festival still buzzing and thumping all around us (am currently at our tent in the Sonic Village, with a band called Harrybu McCage doing their thing on the stage next door) I'm just now getting around to processing everything from the past thirty-something hours.
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A few songs in, I followed Multimedia Intern Ashley-- who's been doing all our camerawork this weekend, and is so patient with us even though sometimes we forget to point our mics at the people we're interviewing-- over to This Tent to see the guy someone had told us was the greatest DJ in the world, DJ Tiesto. Whether or not that's an accurate superlative, I don't know-- the whole time I kinda felt like I was at Ru San's, a local sushi place in Atlanta where pulsing dance tracks are a permanent accompaniment to the lunch buffet. The highlights were Cary Brothers, Jose Gonzalez and Tegan & Sara each taking the stage at different points to perform live the DJ Tiesto remixes of their songs, which is a completely baffling idea to me that I imagine must involve the artists practicing singing remixed versions of themselves which was probably weird to do, but if the maybe-possibly-greatest DJ in the world beckons, I guess you oblige.

By the time we got back to My Morning Jacket, Jim James had turned into Jim James Brown. He was writhing around on the stage, lurching and howling, with a cape on and everything. Then there was a cape and a straw hat. Then just a straw hat. Then more rain. Then we played the Lame Card and high-tailed it through the mud to the hotel.

A few hours later, Sharon Jones & the Dap Kings were the first act I saw on Saturday proper. The Kings must have been sweltering in their dapper wool suits, but they put on a great show with Sharon Jones as the sassy, soul-shuffling anchor. "I wore this dress so I could shake it!" she proclaimed after the first song, and shake she did. I grabbed a kebab and returned to the Which Stage for Gogol Bordello, the band of gypsy punks led by Eugene Hutz, whose wild flowing hair and handlebar mustache gave the look of a deranged Yanni, stripped down to cut-off marching band pants by the third song.

Later caught the Avett Brothers at the Other Tent. Didn't see them actually, thanks to awkward scaffolding-and-green-velvet-drape configuration, but they sounded great and I'm really liking the addition of yet another maniacal string-instrument player, Joe Kwon on cello. Skipped Ben Folds-- I'll love him forever but his live show hasn't changed in years-- but sang along to the bleed-over of his set as I booked it over to the Solar Stage for the Everybodyfields.

I feel like I've mentioned so many times in Paste blogs that it's becoming awkwardly conspicuous, but honestly, this is one of my favorite bands right now, maybe ever, so I get to talk about their first-ever Bonnaroo set. And also their second-ever, a few hours later. The first was besot from the left by Zappa Plays Zappa, the right by Mr. Folds, and above by a randomly circling helicopter, the sound on the stage wasn't great but the band sallied forth to a growing crowd, closing with Neil Young's "Helpless" which almost made me cry because I am a big baby. The second one was tucked into the quiet-by-comparison Troo Music Lounge, which was comparatively packed, seemingly with a lot of fans given the yelled-out song requests and hometown shouts of "Johnson City!" A few new songs were sprinkled in among others from the nearly year-old Nothing Is Okay and their earlier albums, and though they skipped "T.V.A.," my favorite, Jill and Sam made up for it by joining Ashley and myself on a strange little romp through the Bonnaroo grounds that will be available for your multimedia consuming selves sometime soon.

Beginning with Sigur Ros at That Tent, the rest of the evening is a hazy blur-- not due to any chemical alteration on my part, just sheer fatigue. After listening to Pearl Jam's set on the other side of the boneyard, we battled the mud for a few songs with Iceland's finest, then headed over to the What Stage for Kanye West as Ghostland Observatory rocked away at This Tent. And kept rocking. And kept rocking. As we staked out a spot on the lawn, waited, waited, and kept waiting. The original start time of 2:45 AM passed, then the new start time of 3 AM, then 3:15, then 3:30. When he was fifteen minutes late, folks started leaving in droves, and by the time we gave up nearly an hour after he was scheduled to go on, the crowd was livid-- a chorus of "Fuck you..!" "Kanye!" "Fuck you..!" "Kanye!" was rolling up from the back. Pretty much the only folks who were okay with the delay was the crowd in front of us with the balloons and the tank of nitrous oxide. No telling if the tank lasted them til 4:30 AM, when we hear Mr. West finally took the stage. We hear, too, that it wasn't a bad set-- just that, as the set edged towards 6 AM, the light show was a little hard to see thanks to, uh, you know, the sunrise. Can't confirm that, though, as we passed out at the hotel a mile away as the first basslines thumped across the interstate.

Today's the first bakingly hot day of the festival so I've just sought out one band: Tennessee Schmaltz. Billed as a bluegrass klezmer band, I ducked into the Troo Music Lounge to check them out but was a little disappointed. Guess it had to happen sometime.

PS, Happy Father's Day to my dad, who may or may not be reading this, but who should be fully ashamed of me for missing Levon Helm's set yesterday because, according to everyone who was there, it was absolutely phenomenal.

Rainn Wilson's The Rocker opens Cinevegas

2008-06-14T19:39:41Z

[L-R] Rainn Wilson and Dennis Hopper. Photo by Charley Gallay/Getty Images for CineVegas.

The 10th annual Cinevegas Film Festival kicked off on Thursday with a screening of The Rocker starring Rainn Wilson and directed by Oscar-nominee Peter Cattaneo (The Full Monty). The director and star, along with costars Jane Lynch, Fred Armisen, Emma Stone, and Lonny Ross (30 Rock), were in attendance, as was Dennis Hopper (who serves as chairman of the festival's creative advisory board).]]> watch video).

As for the film itself, the results are mixed. I'd expected worse, based on comments from those who'd seen press previews as well as the shifting release date (seldom a good sign). However, given the director and cast (which also includes Christina Applegate and, in smaller roles, Demetri Martin, Aziz Ansari, and Will Arnett), I'd hoped for more.

In the movie, Fish (Wilson) is kicked out of metal hair-band Vesuvius right as they get their big break and shoot to superstardom. After a subsequent 20 years unsuccessfully trying to lead a corporate life, he's asked to fill-in for his nephew's band who desperately needs a drummer for a performance at their high school prom. From there, the plot proceeds on a surprisingly Disney-esque trajectory of predictability and unbelievability. Wilson, as the 40-something who refuses to grow-up, provides energy and rock 'n' roll wisdom (but not life wisdom) to the band, who shoots to instant stardom thanks to a youtube video of a virtual practice session where Wilson, apparently oblivious to the fact that his webcam captures audio and video, performs in the buff. This leads to a signing and a finale with Vesuvious that is eye-rolling.

There are plenty of laughs, the plot is executed professionally enough, and I don't want those 102 minutes of my life back. But it's still ultimately disappointing. One of the big problems with the film is that it can't decide if it wants to be edgy or family friendly. And, as a consequence, it'd doesn't quite succeed at either. It's hard to be family friendly with grown-up sexual innuendo and plenty of rock-cliched alcohol excess, not to mention five minutes of on-screen time for Rainn Wilson's bare ass. And any cleverness and edginess it does have is severely undermined by the conventional plot.

Watch the trailer:

More images from the festival:

[L-R] Jane Lynch, Emma Stone, Lonny Ross, Rainn Wilson, Fred Armisen, CineVegas president Robin Greenspun, Danny Greenspun, director Peter Cattaneo, president of Fox Atomic Debbie Liebling, producer Tom McNulty, Dennis Hopper, and CineVegas artistic director Trevor Groth.

Fred Armisen photographs the photographers.

Rainn Wilson mugs for photographers on the red carpet.

Photographs by Ethan Miller/Getty Images for CineVegas

Bonnaroo 2008: Day 2

2008-06-14T03:37:32Z

Hello again from Manchester’s Country Inn & Suites, where a bunch of us have temporarily retired from Bonnaroo to escape the drizzle—and Metallica. ]]>
Today I tried not to stay in one place for too long—not to let the dust settle on my feet, as it were, even though that’s kind of a ridiculous goal because dust settles on every single thing at Bonnaroo. I think there is dust in my spleen, for instance. But metaphorically, at least, my goal was achieved.

Adele over at The Other Tent was a bit of a shot in the dark. I’d heard good things about her but found most of her songs inexplicably boring, like Amy Winehouse without the sass or spark. With Mark Ronson involved in her debut album, I couldn’t separate his obvious production touches from her own musical merits, and I wasn’t sold on her voice—until today. Adele can sing, really and truly actually sing, and she absolutely is not a show-off about it. She just opens her mouth and this huge voice leaps out and she stands there and looks totally cool with it all. And I like that. I’ll have to listen again, but I’ve got the feeling her album doesn’t do her justice.

I left right before she covered Dylan, and later I cut out of the Swell Season’s set at This Tent before they got to Van Morrison’s “Into the Mystic.” In fact, I left right after “Falling Slowly” which probably made me look like an asshole who just wanted to hear the Oscar song. It was beautiful, though, even though Glen Hansard mistook the sound bleeding over from the other stages as his own band’s sound equipment malfunctioning, and stopped the song to protest “that noise”—otherwise, it seemed without a misstep, and rocked a lot more than I expected, given the general lovely sleepiness of the Once soundtrack.

My afternoon shift at the Paste tent on site coincided with the performance of Umphrey’s McGee on the Sonic Stage, which likely lead to Emergency Services treating a mass influx of repetitive head-bob injuries. Jam safe, y’all.

The Raconteurs, who for some reason I used to think were kind of a goofy band (probably because I thought "Steady As She Goes" was kind of a goofy song), played at the massive What Stage early this evening, and I made it over there just in time to watch the very last song ("Carolina Drama") on probably the most cinematographically pleasing Jumbo Trons of my whole concert-going life. And it kind of blew my mind. Maybe it was the sound system, the fact that this was my first show on the festival’s biggest stage, or my first time seeing Jack White live in any form, or the careful angles and deliberate panning of the camera operators, but I felt like I was watching something big, the hot burning center of some musical orb on the verge of explosion—and from a band that, until recently, I considered (ignorantly, and unfairly) a kind of second-rate side-project with a name I could never spell right. All I know is that the last minute or so of "Carolina Drama" not only made my arm hairs stand on end, but gave me outright goosepimples in 85 degree heat. I'm sold.

Then there was Rilo Kiley, back at This Tent, where Jenny Lewis made me wish I was still young and impressionable so she could be my rock ‘n roll lady role model and make me pick up a guitar and also a one-piece pink sparkly jumper and make all the boys cry. Hooray hooray!

Need to go squeeze in a nap now, or at least get back to my room-- am currently sitting out in the middle of the hotel hallways because that's the only place I can get WiFi without heading out to the fake ivy-bedecked lobby. I'm feeling a little like a weirdo. This carpet's pretty nice, though. And not dusty. What a relief.

Bonnaroo 2008: Day 1

2008-06-13T15:35:20Z

What’s struck me so far about Bonnaroo is how friendly everybody is. I suppose some would chalk it up to the festival being in Tennessee, but I'm not so sure-- I'm from Chattanooga, and I've experienced no shortage of surly Tennesseans in my life, most of them in large groups. Plus, almost everyone we talked to yesterday was from out of state-- way out of state. And I can see the draw. This place is just unlike anywhere I've ever been. It's like a little city, but also a county fair, but also a giant backyard party, but also a sprawling, dirty outside mall—an extraterrestrial shanty town plopped down on earth from the planet Tie Dye.

]]> Michigan or Rhode Island or Pennsylvania. No one had slept a night back at the campground, awoken by the stifling heat that rolls in as soon as the sun’s up. No one had yet spent all their money too early on $4 soft serve and $10 hummus wraps. The sun was out, the fountain was on, and life was good.

Last night as the Paste crew was closing up our tent from the night (we’re two stalls down on stage left of the Sonic Stage—come say hi!) I began to wonder if Bonnaroo’s good nature knew no bounds. At what point would the ‘roo be irrevocably harshed? I soon found out.

A bunch of us headed over to the Comedy Tent to see Zach Galifianakis as soon as we were loosed from tent duty, and after waiting in the standby line for a Six Flags-esque length of time were filed into the cool darkness. I have never once seen a live stand-up comic in my life so it was a relief to discover that stand-up concerts are much like music concerts in that there are sometimes really awkward opening acts that you squirm through all for the love of the headliner. I really don't feel like writing about it, but I'll say that the high point was a joke about Jerry Orbach and the low point was an instructional song about blow jobs. Yeah!

Zach closed his set with a really elaborate video production that also involved him holding up hand-written signs with presumably funny things on them that we were supposed to read and laugh at, and likely this would have happened if we'd been able to see them. Unfortunately the whole bunch of us Paste folks were sitting in such a way that a giant piece of scaffolding blocked the whole scene, leaving us to crane our necks awkwardly in all directions as everyone else laughed and laughed. So when I saw a bunch of folks in the bleachers in front of us suddenly jump up from their seats and move towards the asile, I thought perhaps they were scattering out of frustration or for a better view-- and them I saw The Stream.

It was glowing purple and yellow from the stage lights, arching from the lap of the one fellow left after the sudden, seemingly inexplicable mass exodus. My first thought was that he was squirting a water bottle into the crowd. My second thought is that he was an embedded urinator of some sort, planted there by Zach himself to-- actually, I have no idea what. Pretend to pee into the crowd, maybe? What else could it be? My brain was all, CANNOT COMPUTE CANNOT COMPUTE DUDE IS PEEING INTO THE CROWD BUT THIS MAKES NO SENSE WHO PEES INTO A CROWD THIS MUST NOT BE REAL ALSO THAT IS SO MUCH PEE THIS DEFINITELY CANNOT BE REAL WHAT IS GOING ON SYSTEM IS SHUTTING DOWN.

Reality was just too much to comprehend: Dude actually peed into the crowd. I have no idea how Zach's set ended. People started clapping, but we were still gawking at the pee-er. Clapping seemed inappropriate. A dozen folks, at least, had just been sprayed on the back of the neck with what I'm sure they thought was spilled beer but what they slowly realized was pee-- it felt rude to clap or cheer. And the guy was just sitting there, slumped over on the bleacher, the crowd having parted like the red sea around him-- Bonnaroo's own Moses, fully wasted just six hours in. If he'd come with friends, they'd quickly abandoned him, leaving him to the care of the equally bemused festival staffer that wandered over as the rest of us filed out, shooting harried glances over our shoulders, not sure what body fluid would be next to pour forth so prolifically.

We made it out safely, thank god, and then went to see Vampire Weekend. They were bright and happy and were so many people were there, all dancing and singing along and flailing about-- crowdsurfing, even, to a panicky "Walcott" that closed the set. I'm betting there's a baseline level of excitement at all Bonnaroo shows that's just unprecedented in the outside world-- that friendliness, again, as long as no one pees on anyone-- but still. Last summer, those guys played at the Earl in Atlanta to, like, three people and a drag queen named Vagina Jenkins, and last night they were wreaking mass apoplexy to thousands and thousands of people out in some Tennessee field. This is a weird world.

Triple A Non-Commvention Day 2

2008-05-31T13:36:49Z

Day 2 in Philadelphia near the campus of the University of Pennsylvania saw Music Directors, Program Directors and record label reps, radio promoters (the guys that cajole, plead and otherwise beg the radio stations to play the latest "single" by their clients) checking out new and upcoming artists like Astrid Williamson and Ingrid Michaelson, as well as Ryan Bingham and Hayes Carll (a former Paste 4 To Watch artist). But let's tell the story of the stellar evening showcase featuring Englishman Newton Faulkner and his red dreadlocks, new mommy Ani DiFranco, Paste cover kids The Hold Steady and New Orleans legend Dr. John in pictures.... ]]>

Newton Faulkner, he of #1 U.K. album, kicks off the night with his quirky/sensitive folk.

Ani DiFranco, who is clearly reveling in being a new mother, played a tight 11-song set. Our host venue for the evening, Hal Real's World Cafe Live, is just an amazing room in which to see a show.

Craig Finn of The Hold Steady took the night up about 17 notches with a classic manic performance featuring songs from their new album, Stay Positive. The title track and the single, "Subpoenaed in Texas, Sequestered in Memphis" were instant favorites with the crowd.

If there's a more entertaining sideperson in rock today than The Hold Steady's Franz Nicolay, I've yet to see him/her. The most strategic place to stand when absorbing THS's wallop is just in between Nicolay and Finn. Probably edging toward Nicolay. He might share his wine bottle with you if you're lucky.

We were treated to a legend to end the evening. Dr. John somehow managed to fit New Orleans into his travel luggage and put it on display at World Cafe Live in Philly.

Triple A "Non-Commvention"

2008-05-30T13:20:26Z

There’s a little corner of the radio world called “triple A” music - it covers a lot of the stuff we at Paste like. On the radio dial, that world is usually on public or non-commercial stations - often NPR-affiliated. So these radio stations gather once a year to hear new music and discuss what's going on in the industry and sometimes we join them to eavesdrop on their annual “Non-Commvention” hosted by our friends at WXPN 88.5 in Philadelphia. It's a great chance to check out the bands showcasing for all these program directors.

]]> And they all play 5-6 song sets which works perfectly for my short-attention-span-addled brain. First off, over a lovely lunch served up at WXPN’s companion World Café Live venue was The Watson Twins. Their new record, Fire Songs, comes out June 24 and the girls brought it pretty good. You might remember them backing up Jenny Lewis the past couple years. Old school going from backup singers to headliners!

Next was raucous Philly folkster Phil Roy. Here’s a guy with Passion with a capital P singing songs from his record The Great Longing. Next up, taping for David Dye’s excellent nationally syndicated show World Café was a banging live set from Jackie Greene - whose huge vocals and gutsy guitar moves wowed us all. He’s been hanging out with Phil Lesh and I’m not sure what that did to a guy who I thought to be fairly mellow but if you like big hooks with big vocals, Jackie might be your guy. His band is crackerjack and I'll definitely be checking out his new record Giving Up the Ghost. Back to back with Jackie in another World Café taping is the buzzy and well-named Wild Sweet Orange from Birmingham, Alabama. They are a brand new band, at least to me. But I had to go so not much to say but here's their MySpace page.

Sasquatch 2008: Day 3

2008-05-27T22:44:31Z

It was the last day of Sasquatch and you bet we made it count. From shout-along choruses to Swedish showmen to bearded guitarvaganzas to British soul men to naked people to much, much more, it was all there. Read on...

]]> In a perfect world, Yeasayer would be rocking stadiums. But until then, these Brooklynites seem content enough to take their rhythmic amalgam of Talking Heads and TV on the Radio to every corner of this imperfect globe.

"We're only going to give you 60% today, because if we gave you 100%, people would fall into that gorge and die."

- Howlin' Pelle Almqvist of The Hives

One beard to rule them all, one beard to find them, one beard to bring them all and in the darkness bind them. Ladies and gentlemen, Doug Martsch of Built to Spill.

"I'll be mailing you a picture of cows having sex every day because it isn't illegal. Sincerely, Eugene Mirman."

"It's like 20 minutes of lovin' in that two minutes."

-Flight of the Conchords

Above: Jamie Lidell

The Flaming Lips brought a UFO, a giant bubble, a Led Zeppelin cover, pounds and pounds of confetti, naked people, furries and more. You couldn't have asked for anything more from the final set of Sasquatch, really.

Little Rock Film Fest 2008: Day Four

2008-05-27T20:36:39Z

With the sun setting over the Arkansas River the Little Rock Film Fest held its awards show at the Riverfest Amphitheater. As darkness fell they screened 1972's classic The Legend of Boggy Creek in honor of its director Charles B. Pierce, an Arkansan who made the film (his first) on a budget of $160,000. It was like sitting in an old drive-in theater, without the car. The Bigfoot horror film went on to earn $22 million. Pierce spoke earlier in the week and was presented with the festival's Lifetime Achievement Award.

]]> Arkansas Film Industry Panel

Judge Reinhold told a packed crowd at Little Rock's Chamber of Commerce that "we can set a tone" with events such as this festival. Reinhold has recently taken up part-time residence in Arkansas and was involved with attracting filmmakers to his other home in New Mexico. City officials were on hand to answer questions and were talking of implementing governmental studies on the future of Arkansas film. All well and good but it takes folks like festival organizers Brent Renaud, Craig Renaud and Owen Brainard to "just do it". By all accounts, attendees agree after seeing four days of great film.

FIGHT OR FLIGHT

This "sleeper" of the festival pleasantly surprised me. After a violent attack Irishman Peter McCarthy shot a documentary on facing his fears with a journey through Thailand where he learned the art of Muay Thai Boxing, a type of kickboxing. But when he gets in the ring he begins to also wage a battle in his mind and his spirit. Aside from the actual fights the best parts of the film are his commentaries on his moments of discovery.

LEFT/RIGHT

This story about an Atlanta "Man of the Year" losing his job, returning home and trying to start over begins well enough but stalls out with some weak dialogue and low-tech shooting. With a proper re-write and professional film crew Left/Right could be resurrected.

Next Year

Book your hotel (I recommend The Peabody). Book a flight (or drive; the countryside is beautiful). And plan now for next year's Little Rock Film Festival, potentially one of the best fests in the country.