The Post-Rockist

It’s Tuesday, two days after the 2008 Riverfront Times Music Showcase, and I’m just starting to recover. It wasn’t so much hangover symptoms as it was an overall body ache, like I had been run through the clothes dryer a few times and then kicked down three flights of stairs. Ugh. Twelve hours of shuttling back and forth between music venues under the unforgiving Missouri sun isn’t something you just jump into unprepared. No, you need proper training, like a marathon runner: practice zig-zagging through the city’s bars and nightspots (preferably with runner’s weights on your ankles for strength); staying up progressively later in the nights leading up to the big event (or foregoing sleep altogether in favor of power naps); warm-up stretches of your required clapping muscles and devil fingers; maybe even a trip to a tanning bed if you burn easily. (If interested, Camp Prockist is accepting applications now for Summer 2009!)

Proper attire for RFT Showcase attendees: Hat to block out the sun, spectacles to witness acts of awesomeness, camera to prove you were there, bag for refreshments and CDs, comfortable shoes, and shorts that breathe.

Or… not. Your call. You can always just do what I did, which is show up with barely enough cash for the $5 all-access wristband and only the faintest idea of what bands you’d like to see and where all the venues are located.

The Livers

I arrived just after 1:00 in time to watch The Livers kick things off. I was already starting to sweat so I was relieved that they were playing in the dark confines of the Duck Room under Blueberry Hill, where Scot Freeman and Luke Roulston, the band’s guitarists and vocalists, had set up their video screen to project Scot Freeman and Luke Roulston, the band’s bassist and drummer. After watching their two-part promotional mockumentary, as well as an excellent Lo-Fi St. Louis episode featuring the Livers, I knew I would be a complete and total putz if I missed this show. They didn’t disappoint. The show was genius to an almost absurd degree, as if they were rock’n'roll idiot savants stuck in 1996 with 21st century A/V skills. They chatted with their pre-recorded counterparts, changed costumes in time, found a spare arm to lean on, and, when they remembered the right cue, took four shots of whiskey amongst themselves. The crowd was eating it up, and it didn’t hurt that the songs were killer too: “She-Wolf,” “Autistic Girlfriend,” and “Humble Pie” are three of the most memorable, ridiculous, straight-up rock songs I’ve heard all year. They closed their set with “2 Legs 2 Dance” and invited the audience to shake their money makers. As far as I could tell, only one lady in mom jeans took them up on the offer.

Jon Hardy & The Public - Guitar solo!

At 2:00, Jon Hardy & The Public were up on the main stage outside Vintage Vinyl, dressed in suits and ties despite the oppressive heat and lack of shade. This band was nominated for seemingly every other RFT music award on the list: Best Live Band, Best Pop Band, Best Local Album, Best Band Name, Best Springsteen Cover. Hell, I think I even voted them Best Reggae Band just to cover all the bases. It’s hard not to like this group: their music feels like honest, hard-working American rock’n'roll to its core, and you get the impression by looking at Jon Hardy’s eyes (through his shades) that he’s determined to make it to a 1980s-era John Mellencamp level of heartland success or bust. This guy sweats sincerity; my sweat was a little more acrid. People of all ages were singing and dancing along, from little girls in summer dresses to old men in safari hats to the odd homeless guy with a lot of plastic bags. No doubt about it, these folks are going places.

And so was I. The heat was getting too much for me, so I headed over to the market space on Delmar where the Rum Drum Ramblers were performing. I couldn’t hear a damn thing. Nobody was singing into a microphone and I think the only instrument that was amplified was one of the snares on the percussionist’s chest, and that only served to give off a weird echo effect. Too bad, I was really hoping to get a taste of their rough’n'tumble whiteboy Delta blues. Maybe next time.

While waiting for The 75s to set up in the market space, I headed back to the main stage at 3:00 for Gentlemen Auction House. If I didn’t know any better, I would say that this band is one of the best on the Saddle Creek roster, and if they weren’t already signed to that label, they ought to be. (Turns out they’re actually on Emergency Umbrella Records.) Bolstered by two guitarists, two drummers, two keyboards, and one bassist (Why only one bassist? Do they have feelings of bass inadequacy?), GAH pounded out a set of ambitious, high-energy indie rock that seemed too massive for even the main stage to contain. I was a little reluctant to leave, but I had an itch for some jangly power pop and I was hoping the 75s could help me scratch it. Turns out short girlie pop songs equals short sets. They were tearing down shop as I arrived. Boo.

Wooden Kites

While that was two strikes against the Market in the Loop venue, I decided to stay put for the Wooden Kites at 4:00, hoping that the sound guy had figured out any audio problems from earlier in the day. Good thing I waited, because the Wooden Kites are quickly becoming one of my favorite local acts to catch live. Brian Scot Potts’ stoned storytelling drives the narrative while the band plays like an amped-up version of the Old 97s, with a little boogie woogie piano thrown in for good measure. (Coincidentally, the Old 97s will be at the Pageant on Friday as part of Twangfest 12, and the Wooden Kites will be celebrating the release of their new album, The Orchard, at Vintage Vinyl earlier that evening. Catch two great bands in one night! And buy the album. I’ve heard it. It’s more pop than their live stuff, but it’s good.) Even though they all looked like they were about to pass out from heat exhaustion, they played a great set and were only mildly distracted by the intense-looking man in a bow tie, suspenders, and muscle shirt who started doing card tricks for the crowd. There’s something about street fairs that bring the weirdos out of the woodworks.

Vandalyzm & Gotta Be Karim

At 5:00 I headed back to the main stage to catch Vandalyzm, a.k.a. Van Megatron Majorz, the only hip-hop artist nominated for Best Live Band for the RFT awards. Wearing a shirt that read “Majorz for President,” Van is a disarmingly funny guy with a panache for pumping out clever rhymes over samples of Dee-Lite or Nirvana, and he also tends to be at the center of any major hip-hop happening in town. If Vandalyzm is the omnipresent Batman of St. Louis hip-hop, then with him on stage was his ever-present Boy Wonder, Gotta Be Karim. (Although he’s a huge guy who could probably pound me for referring to him as a “Boy Wonder,” he looks so big and cuddly on stage he could make a killing if he decided to make and market Gotta Be Karim plush dolls at his shows. Just sayin’.) Vandalyzm even handed the spotlight over to Gotta Be for a song, and he proceeded to sing a song instructing us to “Eat More Veggies.” It was kind of bizarre, but kind of wonderful at the same time. Also, curious sidenote, but has anyone else noticed that Vandalyzm seems to bring a videographer with him everywhere he goes? What is the deal with that?

The crowd at the Monads

I cut out early to catch the second half of The Monads’ set. Even though I feel like I see these guys everytime there’s a big community event going on around town, they never fail to deliver the goods: rickety twang-punk with raucus, bourbon-fueled sing-a-long choruses. “Got some pancakes and bourbon - WHAT?! - and bourbon!” Seriously, why weren’t the Monads nominated for Best Live Band? They were hurling water balloons and buckets of ice and bottles of water at the dehydrated, overheated audience members, who in turn loved the attention. This is what a summer festival is all about. The only downside was this creepy, bearded douchebag who asked if I wanted to take a photograph of him with his cock hanging out of his shorts. Uh, no thanks, bub.

At 6:00 I was planning on catching Victoria, but…. I took a break at a friend’s house instead. Sorry guys, AC and free beer wins out every time. I returned by 7:00 in time to catch a surprisingly good set by Target Market, who kind of reminded me of Clap Your Hands Say Yeah back when it was still acceptable to admit to liking CYHSY in public. Another short set, but I’m definitely planning on seeing more of these guys. And, damn, I must admit I was impressed at how close the venues stayed to the actual schedule.

Jumbling Towers, kick ‘em in the head, dammit

Jumbling Towers were up next at Cicero’s. This is another band that I was turned on to via LOFISTL, but they’ve spent so much time working on their new EP that this was the first chance I had to catch them live. (By the way, you can download the Classy Entertainment EP in its entirety, for free!, here. Please do.) Despite Korg malfunctions, false starts, and a seeming inability to work out the ending to most of their songs, Jumbling Towers were absolutely stellar live. They take so many chances with their music, creating this nervous tension between the tightly-wound rhythm section and the near-manic emotional energy of Joe DeBoer’s vocals. Totally insane. It’s like Bryan Ferry fronting MGMT: flamboyant, menacing, erudite indie rock. I couldn’t tear my eyes away. This was the only part of the night where I forgot I was at a festival; everything else just faded to the back of my mind for forty-odd minutes.

I decided to grab another beer and stay for the first half of The Bureau. Mike Cracchiolo and co. definitely managed to cook up something entirely different from the other offerings at the Showcase: dark, sleek, polished post-punk energy, a la Interpol with maybe the slightest hint of Organisation-era OMD. The girl standing next to me started going crazy with excitement, dancing and shouting things to the band while her date looked on with embarrassment. I wanted to stay longer, but there were about six other sets I wanted to catch in that slot. But as soon as I walked outdoors I was hit with the sudden realization that I had been running in circles in near-90 degree heat all day and had put nothing in my system except a steady flow of brews. It was time for a pit stop at the Noodles & Company. It was fucking delicious.

After that, I made my way to the Delmar Lounge and had made up my mind that I wasn’t going anywhere else that night. The Museum Mutters went on at 10:00. I’ve been listening to their new album quite a bit (you can download it for free over thisaway), and I love the stripped-down, underdog bar band feel to it. The obvious reference point is the ‘Mats, albeit more Don’t Tell a Soul than Hootenanny, but hey, I happen to like Don’t Tell a Soul. They sounded even better live, and I gotta admit I got a cheap kick out of all the local references to the “downtown devils on Delmar” and such seeing how we were on Delmar Ave. and all.

People got out their lighters for Quief Quota

Quief Quota were next and, wow, what can I even say? My buddy said that every song was basically about sex in the most graphic terms possible, and that’s probably the best place to start. Just five guys in beige trading off instruments and lead vocals after every song in a complete anarchic destruction of pop music that just so happens to create some really amazing pop songs in the process. I heard flashes of 12-bar blues, N’Awlins jazz, No Wave, Bertolt Brecht, folk, funk, peyote campfire sing-a-longs, and generalized rock & roll insanity. If there was an RFT category for Best Song, “Love Triangle” would be it. And I can’t think of a better tune to end my virgin RFT Showcase experience than “Yee Haw” (”I can’t stop thinkin’ ’bout that ‘Yeeeee-Haw!’” Crude. To the point. I like it.)

I was going to stay for Bunnygrunt, who I hear were excellent, but they’ve received my patronage several times before and I had to get to work in a few hours. So, next time guys, okay? I was beat, but I had an outstanding time. I saw an incredible array of local talent and I somehow managed to avoid getting a sunburn or a hangover. Woo hoo! I imagine A to Z will be posting pictures and videos and reviews of the event, so check there regularly throughout your work day. I have some catching up to do.

On sleep, that is.