Sunday at Pitchfork. The Post-Rockist recollects….

1:00 p.m. Times New Viking (C)

Todd: Every time I play TNV’s Rip It Off for someone, I always hear the same complaint: “It’s too loud for my ears. They’re signed to Matador, why can’t they take advantage of more modern production techniques and add flutes and piccolos and dance beats to make it easier to listen to? I’m going to go read the AARP newsletter now.” Guess what? The way they sound on the record is exactly how they sound live. The Viking kids put on a really fun, noisy show with lots of references to being teenagers and doing drugs. Two of the greatest joys of youth.

The best part: when the drummer/vocalist brought his vocal mic directly into contact with the cymbal he was banging to create a fantastic racket on the loudspeakers. The sound guy rushed out because he thought something had fallen only to be shrugged off like the chump that he was.

After the set, everyone I talked to said the same thing: “That was a lot better than I had expected. You could really hear the pop melodies under all the distortion.”

Scotter: Went out for drinks with friends Saturday night, ate Chicago-style pizza at 3 a.m., fell into a deep, cheeze-enduced coma, and woke up about 15 minutes before Times New Viking went on. But I could hear them from my pull-out bed on Bryn Mawr Avenue and thought they were great.

1:40 p.m. Mahjongg (B)

Todd: I thought I was going to go see High Places, but the whole schedule for Stage B was out of whack on Sunday. I don’t know much about Mahjongg. Uhm, I guess they used lots of processors and synths to create lots of bleeps and bloops, used lots of interesting percussion to create some electro-tribal polyrhythms, wore plastic Girl Talk shades (like every other person in the park), and occasionally sang with Gary Numan-esque voices.

After the set I ran into Alison from Toe Taps and Spastic Claps. She obviously thought I was supercool for recognizing her from teh internetz. St. Louisans stick together, what can I say?

Scotter: Right around the same time, I just got out of the shower.

2:00 p.m. Boris (C)

Todd: I was perusing the DIY craft tent when Boris took the stage, and immediately I felt a stark change in the atmosphere. It became perceptibly darker outside. I stumbled at the cash register as I was attempting to purchase a custom iPod cozy for my S.O., as what sounded like furious ghost demons came screaming through the aisles chasing after me. I ran outside and caught what I could of the set. I stood back, slack-jawed and petrified, as they pounded at their instruments, like they were making stone sculptures out of lightning.

I had avoided Boris for a while because I had always read about them in terms of off-putting adjective combinations, such as “drone sludge” or “shoegaze metal,” but the thing about Boris (as well as a lot of other “out there” bands from Japan) is how they twine together incredibly disparate musical styles and spit them back out in forms that are hard to explain with our traditional Western media referents.

I did see a bass guitar without a headstock, which is admittedly kind of lame, but since the bass only constituted one neck of a two-necked beast I think the question of lameness becomes moot. The gloved drummer, however, was unquestionably great. I couldn’t get over how he would whip out these complex rhythms with uber-heaviness.

Scotter: God damn, the “L” is slow.

2:25 p.m. High Places (B)

Todd: So this was High Places. Another two-person group with loads of processors and electronic drum pads. It was pleasant, but not particularly captivating. At their catchiest, they sounded like the Blow at their least poppy. Maybe it was just a poor mix, but I don’t know what’s up with all these mumblecore vocalists.

2:50 p.m. HEALTH (B)

Todd: Errrr…..kkkkrrrrap. Sorry, hype or no, three alt-bros screaming into distorted microphones and then boyishly jumping onto your distorted guitars on the floor is not my idea of a good time.

Scotter: I was getting off the “L” as HEALTH was finishing. Good timing, from what I’ve heard. Got to Union Park just as Apples in Stereo started playing, having to wait in line for 15 minutes and watching a golf cart roll by with a camera crew filming Atlas Sound’s Bradford Cox filming people at the festival.

3:00 p.m. The Apples in Stereo (A)

Todd: Thank God the Apples were playing. I was going to skip this set because King Khan was supposed to go on at 3:15, and because I’ve seen the Rob Schneider and co. several times before (including the very first festival this site covered), but you know what, the Apples in Stereo never fail to deliver the goods. The New Magnetic Wonder songs from last year sounded dynamo, with highlights including the sing-along portion of the highly appropriate “Sun is Out” and learning the story behind my 13th favorite song of ‘07, “Skyway” (”I wrote this song in a dream,” said Schneider. “Well, not technically in a dream. I wrote it after I woke up from the dream.”)

Scotter: Never seen or heard Apples in Stereo except on Colbert, but they put on a pretty fun show, with the second goofiest keyboard player of the festival after the Hold Steady guy with the mustache. So this is what an Elephant 6 band sounds like when they’re happy? Not bad.

4:15 p.m. King Khan & the Shrines (B)

Scotter: Soulful garage rock plus horns! Who knew that would make such a killer combo? Add the rascally antics of King Khan and you get one of the best performances I’ve seen all year.

To be honest, Pitchfork should’ve evened the line-up better. Les Savy Fav and King Khan at the same time means that half of the paying ticket holders missed out on one or another of the best performances of the festival. That was just not fair. Apparently, Les Savy Fav was amazing, but I was hooked on King Khan from the moment I arrived.

With a frisky female backup dancer and a great band having a hella ‘valot of fun on-stage, King Khan just killed it. Killed it! The guy is definitely a weirdo, but the best kind of weirdo. A self-proclaimed “gospel song” included a scene where the King described a religious sexual experience where he literally enters his lover’s body completely into her youknowwhat–head, hands, body, legs, and feet, everything–and is “born again” after “flopping out” of her itgoeswithoutsaying. A harrowing sexual-religious experience for sure and due ’cause for a little testifyin’. But even fully inside of her, as he pointed out, he took off his shoes, because “Indians always take off their shoes whenever they do anything religious.” And after all that, all she can say is “Hey, where’s that watch I bought you for Christmas?”

Other weirdo bits of wisdom from King Khan:

“You can’t wipe your ass with money. You’ll get an infection.”

“We’re bringing finger-banging back in 2008″

If Jake and Elwood fused into one Indian man with a psychotic sexual imagination, you’d have King Khan.

Todd: King Khan is going to be a household name after this event. I was half-tempted to czech out Les Savy Fav because they supposedly put on a Must See show, but I would only be going for the spectacle. With King Khan, I’d get spectacle and kick-ass songs. I had been hyping up the stripped-down King Khan & BBQ Show to my friends ever since I bought What’s for Dinner?, but when I heard he was going to bring his balls-out soul revival group the Shrines with him, I knew this was an occasion not to be missed. It’s like mixing Mitch Ryder & the Detroit Wheels with the Ike & Tina Turner Soul Revue, and chucking in a bottle of three-alarm hot sauce. Second best show of the weekend, bar none.

6:00 p.m. M. Ward (C)

Scotter: Waiting for a good spot to see Spiritualized, we watched M. Ward from afar. It wasn’t the same experience as watching The Hold Steady from the Jarvis stage the previous day. What made it worse (or better) was that Ghostface and Raekwon were tearing it down with thumpin’ bass from the B stage and M. Ward’s soft, dreamy folk-pop was no match. I heard afterward that people were screaming for him to play his excellent cover of Bowie’s “Let’s Dance,” which apparently seemed to piss him off.

Todd: I think I said something faux-meaningful as we were sitting there about how M. Ward’s far-away voice was meant to be heard from a distance. I was just rationalizing, obviously, but there’s a certain warmth and comfort to his music that’s hard to capture when you’re cramped in a field with 17,000 other sweaty people chattering in the background. I’m sure it was nice if you were up front, but I wanted to get up front for Spiritualized.

Scotter: Girls seem to like Fleet Foxes more than M. Ward. Men noticed that Zooey Deschanel was nowhere in sight and lost interest, I think.

7:00 p.m. Spiritualized (A)

Todd: I’m calling it right now: the J. Spaceman moniker needs to be retired. I’ve taken many an astral journey through the center of my mind with J. Spaceman as my unwavering guide, but these days Jason Pierce seems more concerned with the here and now and honest-to-god songs than experiences of the ethereal (more on that here).

This was the first time Pierce struck me as just a frontman to a rock & roll band, and not a sonic pharmacist from on high. The band was more bare bones than I’ve seen in the past, with two gospel singers being the only accessory besides guitar, bass, drums, and keyboard. But even so, noise has always been Pierce’s secret weapon, and this set was no exception. They opened with a blistering version of “You Lie You Cheat” off Songs in A&E, which built into a violent noise freakout, which segued beautifully into a subdued “Shine a Light.” While the set was heavy on newer material, with “Soul on Fire” and “She Kissed Me (It Felt Like a Hit)” being two highlights, when they started chugging away at the Ladies & Gentlemen classic “Come Together” the crowd started to go crazy.

Scotter: My first experience of being Spiritualized, and it was pretty okay. I mean, the Buddha didn’t appear to me, and Jesus didn’t turn my backwashed-laced Aquafina into wine, but I felt somewhat uplifted, less materialistically-grounded, feeling the body/mind dualism at work and all. It was loud, but that may have been because we had stationed ourself directly in front of the stage-right loudspeakers.

Spirtualized did pull one pretty innovative trick with the high-powered, high-wattaged festival sound system. Toward the end of the set, the band set into a steady jam full of fuzz and distortion, but seemed to be settling on a simple rhythm pattern–just eighth notes. Once establishing the pattern and lulling the audience into attention stagnation, the loudspeakers suddenly cut out. But the band didn’t even flinch. They just continued playing. I could barely hear their amps from just 10 yards away from the stage, which goes to show that the sound on stage is minimal compared to what the audience is usually hearing. We were all kind of looking at the sound guys, expecting them to freak out, but they were just as collected and cool as the band, as if nothing had changed.

After about 30 seconds of this, the loudspeakers cranked back on, on beat and on measure, jolting every single person in the crowd.

That can’t be very good for the care of the loudspeakers, but its awesomeness factor was well worth it.

Todd: The song was “Take Me To the Other Side,” an old Spacemen 3 stand-by that Pierce has been closing his set with for years. It was pretty intense.

I feel I should point out that I’ve never seen Pierce so fired up before. The last time I saw him he sat through the entire show looking sickly and tired. On Sunday the veins in his neck were throbbing from singing so hard, and not once but twice he angrily knocked over his mic stand with his guitar. I couldn’t believe my eyes when he started thrusting his guitar through the amp at the end before hurling it at the drum set. Hell, he even allowed a drum solo. Absolute insanity.

8:00 p.m. Dinosaur Jr. (C)

Todd: It’s great that this nostalgia act was here for the old-timers, Scotter, but I seem to recall the two of us sitting under a tree with a beer in each hand during this set.

Scotter: With 34 beer tickets down and 6 to go before time ran out, it was the best choice.

9:00 p.m. The King Bradford Reatard Ponys (or, King Cox?) (B)

Scotter: As the sun began to set in Pitchforkmusicland and the close of the festival dusking upon us, it was time to end the night with some electrified dancing with Cut Copy at the B Stage. The crowd was absolutely packed–the most people I’ve seen at that stage all weekend.

But we were confronted by announcement from King Khan that Cut Copy was held up at the O’Hareport, but on their way, and that he and Bradford Cox and the drummer from the Ponys would entertain us with a “jam session.” This caused more than half the crowd to groan out loud and clench their fists in the air in angst. Oh, Fortuna! Crestfallen and miserable, these people gave up way too easily on a band that most of them (or so I overheard) had paid the $30 ticket to see, and made their sojourn to the C Stage to see Spoon.

Todd: Suckers. Spoon is like the Toyota of indie rock — reliable, well-crafted, and completely uninspiring. I wanted an element of danger in my rock & roll, so I stayed put. Cox started out with a Bo Diddley riff, and King Khan rolled with it, making up a song called “Jellyroll” to the tune of “Hey Bo Diddley,” and the crowd started singing along to the hook. Another testement to the greatness of the Diddley Daddy, I think. They screwed around with a couple of other ideas, that weren’t always great but at least entertaining. Eventually they played the King Khan & BBQ Show tune “Too Much in Love,” with Khan taking the low parts and Cox singing the high notes. Jay Reatard came out for one song, basically to scream a quick punk song and tackle King Khan. He came out later, only to moon the audience and attempt to shove a flower bouquet up his rump. I’d like to see Britt Daniels try that.

Crowd = slightly entertained, tired, sweaty, and anxious

9:30 p.m. Cut Copy (B)

Scotter: Finally, at 9:40 in the p.m., Cut Copy arrived, quickly set up their gear, and started into their set with “Out There on the Ice.” From the very first notes, the crowd was immediately into it, and due to the wait and to the weak in spirit who left earlier, we got pretty near the front, swapping sweat with a bunch of strangers, shakin’ the hardware, jumping around and up and down and everyway, getting beer and water sprayed all over us, and trying to take some pics for this site in the midst of all that, which, as you can see, didn’t come out really well. But I think you get the idea of how frantic and awesome it was.

But after just four songs, Pitchfork shut down the show–city ordinances or something. They ended with “Hearts on Fire” and weren’t allowed to encore even though the festival’s sage staff let us cheer and hoot and holler for nearly 10 minutes before turning on the stage lights and tearing down the equipment.

Todd: I was too busy dancing ecstatically with everyone else in the crowd to worry about the details. Fantastic cap to a fantastic weekend.

Scotter: I would have liked to have heard “So Haunted,” but agreed. Even with only 4 songs and less than a half hour of music, everybody in the crowd was able transfer the pent-up, static energy from waiting so long into kinetic release.

Scotter: So that was the Post-Rockist’s Pitchfork Vacation. Thanks for clicking back and forth between this post and your work database or email everytime your boss walked by. And don’t just take our words for it, czech these sites too:

Riverfront Times: “Gawking at Pitchfork: The Fashion of Pitchfork Music Festival”
Webvomit: Friday, Saturday, Sunday
Cream Team - Recap
You Ain’t No Picasso (Just click around. They’re dedicating one post for every band they saw.)
Beep: A recap of sorts
Stereogum: Especially on “The Supreme Genius of King Khan”

And there are lots more and surely more to come from the interwebs. You know how to use Google, right?

Thanks for reading.

Gesundheit,

The Post-Rockist

Hi kids,

Todd and Scotter here. As some of you know, we’re based in St. Louis and Detroit respectively, but we made our first collective concert outing last weekend at the Pitchfork Music Festival. Like usual with these kinds of things, we’re a little behind the other blogs, but what we lack in timing we make up in making things up.

Here’s our report on Saturday’s festivities (many pretty pictures following the jump):

1:00 p.m. Titus Andronicus (C)

Todd: The night before the festival took some unexpected turns, and I ultimately ended up on a basketball court in the wee hours of the morning shooting hoops with a couple of die-hard, heavily intoxicated Jarvis Cocker fans. So when I stumbled into Union Park some hours later, walking unsteadily through the mud and mist, I was bewildered to find the first band kicking the whole thing off with a grating cover of Pulp’s “Common People.” Maybe it was the throbbing in my head, maybe it was the out of key singing, but something didn’t sit right with me. They proceeded to thrash about on stage like it was the first time they put on a show, and the singer kid climbed on a banister and waved a flag around. Didn’t do anything for me. Where’s the appeal? Scotter, care to explain?

Scotter: Oh man, Titus Andronicus may be one of my favorite new bands. I made a point of listening to a few tracks on the bus ride to Chicago and Titus Andronicus’ songs kept me company throughout the 6-hour trip. They had a pretty tough time slot, having to open the festival proper and play for a lot of people who have never heard their music before. And they may have been the least seasoned band of the festival and played a bit too loosely at moments. And the wet audience (by this time it started to rain steadily) may not have been in the best shape to listen closely.

But the band came out with lots of energy and verve, playing as if they were attacking the audience into attention, like they were in competition with the scattered showers. And they played like they were having the best time of their lives. One of my favorite things about the Titus crew over the weekend was that I saw them in the wings at just about every show. They probably saw more bands than a lot of the ticket holders. They’re real fans who dig their influences and mold them into their own original sound.

Other blogs point out that singer Patrick Stickles sounds a lot like Conor Oberst and they’re not wrong, but the delivery is more Johnny Rotten to my ears. This is punk rock, ultimately, defined not by hard-driving eighth notes or any kind of popular punk style of dress. This is punk rock in having something to important say, saying it emotionally and sometimes angrily, getting in your face about it, and making you want to listen and sing along.

Just listen to this:
Titus Andronicus - Titus Andronicus
from The Airing of Grievances
Download audio file (TitusAndronicus.mp3)

Todd: I dunno, buddy. Sometimes screaming isn’t always a substitute for songwriting. My theory: having a big beard in the naughts is like having a fast car in the ’80s. It means you’re compensating. And this dude had a huge beard. Okay, enough of these kids. Time to get Reatarded.

1:30 p.m. Jay Reatard (A)

King Khan’s introduction: “I’ve known this guy since I was a kid. I even smoked dope with his mom once, and she didn’t make me pay!” Uhm, okay Khan, can we rock now please?

Todd: Hell yes, son, this is what I’m talking about. The Reatard was my most anticipated set of Saturday, and I’ll be damned if he didn’t rip through 100 songs in under 30 minutes and leave me begging for more. Plus, you’ve got to hand it to Jay for being one of the only artists who noticeably changed their live show from the recording. And by “change” I mean he played everything quadruple-speed, cut out the keyboards, and added a lot of spit.

Krack! Thwack! Krash! Every song just hit you like beer bottle to the head and, oh, it felt good. Saturday was sorely lacking in the intensity factor, but Reatard brought the rock LAMF.

Jay Reatard apparently only has three singing voices: a whiny, frightened little girl voice; a deep, cartoonish Casey Kasem voice; and a ‘Fuck You’ voice. It was completely disorienting to watch him switch in-between voices, sometimes mid-sentence, but he was so steadfast and intense I was afraid of what would happen to me if I looked away. I loved the Flying V’s. I loved the headbanging. And yet I was slightly disturbed by the bright red tongue that was frequently displayed by the fleshy bass player.

Scotter: I listened to a song, took a few pics, and left to get a beer.

To borrow a quote: “I dunno, buddy. Sometimes screaming isn’t always a substitute for songwriting.”

Todd: King Khan, standing by the side of the stage in his Hawaiian vacation attire, was a nice side-show attraction. Clearly enjoying himself with foaming mixed drink in hand, he would fake dry-hump a lady or maybe fake force a man to give him air-fellatio. My buddy Craig texted me, “King Khan steals the show just by existing.” I couldn’t wait for his set on Sunday.

2:00 p.m. Caribou (C)

Todd: Far and away the best percussion all weekend, but the intricacies of the soft vocal melodies and all the swooshy sound effects kind of got lost live. It was a nice set, could’ve used a light show, but my mind wandered.

Scotter: Yeah, the drums were both musically and literally front-and-center for Caribou: the drummer was positioned at the very front of the stage. A drummer friend of mine always tells me (especially after scrolling through the pics on this site) that drummers never get any attention. So this should put Caribou on a high pedestal at the next Whinny Drummers of America annual meeting.

Caribou’s music was easy to sway to and could have been dancy if the ground hadn’t begun its transition into mud.

Todd:I noticed some interesting characters in the crowd. To my left was a lady in a bikini and leg cast who had brought pre-cooked bacon in a knapsack, and to my immediate right were two tie-died hippie boys who were sharing their doobage with a 21+ bookish college girl in the hopes that she would buy them beer. You know what, the people who say P4K was just full of hipsters are being lazy. There were also a lot of freaks that you would expect to find creeping in at any outdoor festival, but more importantly I saw a lot of enthusiastic indie rock fans who were just really excited about seeing live music.

3:00 p.m. Fleet Foxes (A)

Todd: It takes serious dedication to stick with the “We’re going to wear flannel and vests no matter what” fashion mantra in this hot and muggy weather. But hey, if that’s your pony you gotta ride it.

Fleet Foxes really surprised me. The record doesn’t do much for me, but with their vocal harmonies blasting out in perfect clarity across the muddy fields I have to admit I was moved. It was kind of a madrigal Crosby, Stills, Nash, & Young vibe.

Chicks really seem to dig this band for some reason.

Scotter: My girlfriend really seems to dig this band for some reason. As she turned to me after the set, she got this look in her eye as if she was imagining me with a long beard, long hair, and talent (a long shot, all three).

The rain had finally subsided as Fleet Foxes went on and, to my surprise, the crowd doubled in size by the middle of the set. It’s pretty gutsy, I suppose, to a capella a song called “White Winter Hymnal” at a steamy summer music festival, but Fleet Foxes pulled it off well. It’s the first time I heard “shhhh”ing at an outdoor festival.

4:15 p.m. The Ruby Suns (B)

Todd: Perfect music for an outdoor festival: airy, sunny, earthy. I didn’t listen too closely, I just laid under a tree and let the tropical synthesizer sounds wash over me. Ahh, that’s pleasant. My feet are tired.

Scotter kept trying to tell me that we weren’t listening to Ruby Suns; he said the schedule must be off or something. I said, “No dude, listen, they’re singing ‘Oh Mojave,’ the second song on Sea Lion. I own that album. I know this is the Ruby Suns.” I think he just felt bad for skipping their set to see the Teenagers back in April.

Scotter: I’m an idiot.

4:40 p.m. Dizzee Rascal (C)

Todd: This sounded amazing… from the food court. I heart Dizzee, but I hearted dinner more.

5:00 p.m. Vampire Weekend (A)

Todd: I think we’ve set some kind of worldwide music blog record for holding out the longest without ever mentioning VW.

Scotter: Another outstanding achievement for the Post-Rockist, I think. But we’re forced to talk Vampire Weekend here.

I talked to others who agreed: the album is very pleasant, easy to listen to, and unoffensive to one’s concentration. Which is why the time when most people listen to the album is at work. Seriously, think about it. How many times have you listened to this album at work but not afterward? Seriously.

I thought Vampire Weekend’s set was okay, but it sounded a lot like the album and when it didn’t sound like the album it was due to the singer trying to scream words instead of singing them, a good indicator that they’ve played these songs beyond even their own ability to tolerate them and should go home to Boston to start writing the new album before boring themselves out of existence. Nice looking chaps, though.

6:00 p.m. !!! (C)

Singer Nic Offer, near the end of the !!! set: You kids know something that the critics don’t. We’re the lowest rated band in Pitchfork playing the highest spot. That’s because of you.

Todd: Wowza. Nic Offer can’t sing and he can’t dance, but he has shorty shorts and he knows how to use them.

Scotter: Here’s all I should have to write for you:

!!!!

Todd: Really fun. Like a clubby Remain In Light filled with subliminal dance instructions.

Scotter: I’ll add this. Todd and I were having a discussion about the band’s name (for those of you just tuning in to this band, it’s commonly pronounced “chk-chk-chk”). I was putting out all of these bombastic theories of language–high-falootin’ English major stuff that I should’ve discarded from my mind awhile ago–bringing in Wittgenstein and Derrida and even Monty Python as references. Todd was nice enough not to show the exasperating boredom I must have been putting him through. But mid-disquisition, I realized that I was clapping along, unconsciously, with the rest of the crowd, my body unable to control itself from loosening up, even at my most uptight and academic. So I gave up and started dancing.

Todd: You so did not name-drop Wittgenstein.

7:00 p.m. The Hold Steady (A)

Scotter: I’ve never been a big fan of The Hold Steady. The things that I like about the band, I think The Tragically Hip do better. The things I dislike about the band, I think Bruce Springsteen does better. But I’ve never seen the live show and wasn’t really looking forward to it either. In fact, I was so unconcerned about seeing The Hold Steady that our crew decided to ditch any effort in lieu of getting a good spot for Jarvis Cocker. So standing, tired and exhausted from the early rain and late heat, a few rows of people from the front of the C stage, The Hold Steady rocked it from afar and suddenly turned me into a believer.

I couldn’t even see the stage-just the large screen TV version of the concert. Craig Finn was electrifying, having so much fun and spouting off lyric after great lyric. I couldn’t turn away from the big screen to enter into conversation with the people around me. I think I paid more attention to that concert than any early show that day, with the possible exception of !!!. I’m not sure if this new-found fascination will last, but I’m definitely on re-discovery road and will be riffling through old shoe boxes of CD-Rs for those Hold Steady albums friends burned for me, convinced that I’d love this band. Time will tell.

The mainstream media looks on from their caged vantage point.

8:00 p.m. Jarvis Cocker (C)

Scotter: I got into Jarvis Cocker very, very late in the game. I hadn’t even really given Pulp more than two listens but picked up his solo album, Jarvis, on a whim, and it’s been a staple album on my iPod ever since. So when some fans complain about the fact that he doesn’t play Pulp songs anymore, I’m not really fazed. I caught Jarvis as he embarked on Volume 2 of his career and that’s the reason I wanted so badly to see him.

And did he deliver! It really made a difference to be so close to the stage for this show, in order to see up close every movement, shimmy, shake, posture, dip, shrug, and pantomime. It was one of the most charismatic, attention-dominating performances I’ve ever seen. Jarvis had a control of the crowd like I haven’t really seen before. He got the audience clapping in unison not by raising his hands high in the air in a clapping motion over his head (like the amateurs). Instead, he takes a more subtle approach, putting his hands together around the microphone, as if in prayer, and then clapping lightly, with small motions. He knew everyone in the crowd was watching intently, and within seconds, everyone was clapping along.

Jarvis played a few brand new songs and they were all excellent. One song, “Girls Like It Too,” was based on a story told by John Peel’s older brother at the legendary British DJ’s funeral. The older brother was trying to give young John confidence in his sexual dealings with young birds and imparted the following (I think) truism: “Don’t worry. Girls like it too.”

Another new one was about trying to pick-up a girl at the Natural History Museum (See footnote, below).

Jarvis ended the show with a plug for Obama and the songs “Cunts Are Still Running the World,” with the hope that he can stop playing this song sooner than later. For a little while, you can listen to the performance here.

Todd: What he said. It’s a great feeling when you can tell only one song into a set that you’re watching a deservedly legendary performer. For some reason I kept thinking of the Bowie line from “Drive-in Saturday” about “When people stared in Jagger’s eyes and scored,” only I was swapping out “Jagger” with Jarvis. Scotter, I apologize if you felt a poke during the show. That was just the zoom lens on my camera accidentally going off. In my pocket. Yeah. That’s the ticket.

9:00 p.m. Animal Collective (A)

Scotter:

Too…

tired…

to have…

to concentrate…

on difficult…

music.

See…

you…

tomorrow.

Todd: After the orgiastic experience of watching Jarvis, I was ready for a cigarette and a change of pants. I think there might have been a band on afterwards, at least I remember hearing some lights and seeing some sounds, but there were no real songs capturing my attention so I just headed home. Well, that was the plan at least.

I was sitting on my buddy Craig’s couch drinking cheap Canadian whiskey, when all of a sudden we get a call. “Guess who’s standing five feet away from me smoking a cigarette?”

Five minutes later we were at the Rainbo Club, trying to act casual. After all, Jarvis Cocker was in our midst. He had changed out of his velour suit into an equally fashionable checked suit. As it turns out, for being such an iconic performer, he’s a remarkably approachable and polite gent. “Hi, I’m Jarvis,” he said, as if I didn’t know. I had never even heard the Jarvis solo album before Saturday, so I didn’t want to go out of my way in kissing the grown man’s ass, but our crew was more than willing to brown-nose in order to share a moment with an idol. We learned of his fondness for Vampire Weekend, his disgust for Andy Dick, and his pre-show ritual consisting of two bars of chocolate and a glass of whiskey. Music news-wise, he tipped us off that despite performing six new songs flawlessly earlier that night–half an album in other words–he’s not planning to start recording the follow-up to Jarvis until early next year. And only then if he feels like.

He also confided in me that the Post-Rockist is his favourite blog. It’s true.

Okay, that last part isn’t technically true, but I had you going there for a second with that dapper British “u” in “favourite” at least, right? Right? Oh, wrong.

Onward to Sunday!
_______________________________________________

Footnote:
^{Dear readers, I’m going to need your help with this one because my girlfriend and I had a little argument that needs solving. Todd’s been no help, so I put it to those of you who may have been there. The chorus goes “I told you once! I want to be your ____”.}

Now I’m absolutely convinced that he says “I want to be your boyfriend.” As cheesy as that sounds, coming from a 40-year-old, internationally famous, rockstar divorcee, it’s actually a pretty great line. Girlfriend thinks it was “I want to be your lover,” which is even cheesier because it’s been said a million times, and wouldn’t you think that he’d go for something coy and different than the same-old same old?

Seriously folks, I need some help here. Our relationship may depend on it.

Hello My Babys,

Scotter here. Well, the Pitchfork Muzak Festivale has come and gone and Todd and I are working feverishly (kind of) on a re-cap (sort of) of this past weekend’s events. We’ll have fotos and werds up shortly, but in the meantime, here’s a selection of pics of the big screen monitors the good folks at P4K provided when the sold-out crowd had the brazen audacity to keep us from getting the the front row to see our favorite bands from mere yards away. In the words of Stephanie Tanner, “How rude!”


Jay Reatard

Caribou

Fleet Foxes

Vampy Weekend

!!!

Apples in Stereo

M. Ward

The Hold Steady

Awesome Fun

***This is an automated response.***

Thanks for clicking onto the site. We’re currently out of the office (read: aren’t at work blogging at our jobs when we could be doing the actual work we get paid for) (j/k if my boss is reading this. LOL). The Post-Rockist is at Pitchfork Music Festival.

Sadly, we’ll be commuting Friday night, so we’ll miss Mission of Burma, Sebadoh, and Public Enemy, but we’ll have our usual half-assed coverage for Saturday and Sunday, with pics and stories about whatever trouble we got into and updates on the bands and the fans.

Here’s what’s cool. Pitchfork will be streaming live much of the weekend festival here, so tune in and see if you can see us. We’ll be the ones in swimming trunks, parkas, and Native American head dress.

Here’s a quick list of some of the artists we’re really excited about seeing:

Saturday

Download audio file (14 Blood Visions.mp3)

Jay Reatard - “Blood Visions” (from Singles 06/07)
1:30 p.m., Stage A

Download audio file (13 Wanna Be.mp3)

Dizzee Rascal - “Wanna Be” (from Maths + English)
4:00 p.m., Stage C

Download audio file (11 Slapped Actress.mp3)

The Hold Steady - “Slapped Actress” (from Stay Positive)
7:00 p.m., Stage A

Animal Collective - “Winter’s Love” (acoustic)
9:00 p.m., Stage A

Sunday

Download audio file (15 Times New Viking Vs. Yo La Tengo.mp3)

Times New Viking - “Times New Viking vs. Yo La Tengo” (from Rip It Off)
1:00 p.m., Stage C

Download audio file (02 Took My Lady To Dinner.mp3)

King Khan & the Shrines - “Took My Lady To Dinner” (from The Supreme Genius Of)
3:15 p.m., Stage B

Spiritualized - “Electricity” (from Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space)
7:00 p.m., Stage A

Dinosaur Jr. - “Feel the Pain” (from Without a Sound)
8:00 p.m., Stage C

Thanks very much for your clickage. We will get back to you upon our return. In the meantime, if you do dare, leave the most absurd, stupid, or weird comment in our comments section. We won’t have any access to the interwebs while we’re there, so feel free because we won’t be able to censor you until Monday morning.

Aces,

The Post-Rockist

Download audio file (02 Bring The Noise.mp3)

Public Enemy - “Bring the Noise”
(from It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back)

When I first heard It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back, I thought it sounded outdated and a little too old school for my tastes. After all, it had been a little over a decade since it was released, so it wasn’t surprising that it didn’t seem incredibly relevant to me at the time. The reason I picked it up was because it was one of those albums that consistently made all the Best Albums of All Time lists, in everything from The Source to Time magazine. From what I could tell, its importance and cultural impact weren’t up for debate and it was a classic in every sense of the word. Being a curious music fan with limited knowledge and taste, I wanted to understand what all the fuss was about and see if it could live up to the hype. So after hearing it a few times, I was a little disappointed that it hadn’t changed my life.

That would come later.

It Takes a Nation sat on my shelf for a couple years before I listened to it again. It had become one of those albums in my collection that I set aside before fully absorbing, as I waited until I was in the right mood for it. After all, you can’t force music to reach you when you aren’t ready for it. Like wine, music can require a bit of patience, but oftentimes it’s well worth the wait. So that year I decided I was going to listen to as much hip hop as possible, since it was a genre I enjoyed, but didn’t know a whole lot about. Being a middle class white kid from a small town in Michigan, the only hip hop I was exposed to growing up was whatever I saw on MTV in the nineties. As I was making my way through classics I had missed like Raising Hell, Paid In Full and Three Feet High and Rising, I figured it was time to give Public Enemy another try.

So I put It Takes a Nation back on my stereo and it felt like I just got punched in the face. I was immediately struck just by the sound of it. I’d never heard production as dense as this before. It felt like all my senses were being bombarded at once. How could I have ignored this before, I mean physically? There were samples colliding all over the place from police sirens to James Brown horns and beats to Malcolm X speeches to guitars from Slayer and David Bowie. Plus they were even sampling themselves! It was music that forced you to pay attention to it since there’s so much going on and it’s never pretty. Production team The Bomb Squad wasn’t interested in creating music that was even remotely pleasing to the ears. They wanted to hit you over the head repeatedly and without mercy. Their production assault mixed with DJ Terminator X’s up front scratching technique created a sound that was totally relentless.

After getting over the shock of being beaten by the music, I started to notice how brilliant Chuck D and Flavor Flav were as MCs. The two of them seemed like the oddest couple imaginable with Chuck D’s serious frontman intensity and Flavor Flav’s cartoonish sidekick persona creating a hodgepodge effect that couldn’t have been achieved without the both of them. It allowed the music to be deathly serious and surprisingly playful at the same time. Chuck D was spitting politically conscious rhymes that were as powerful as Malcolm X’s speeches, using a bizarre Marv Albert-inspired sportscaster voice that somehow fit the intensity of the music just perfectly. Whether he was speaking about incarcerated black men, drug abuse, Louis Farrakhan or just about what it’s like to be a black man in America, Chuck D seemed to have an endless supply of words to put into action. Of course, politically conscious rhymes weren’t entirely new to hip hop, but the uncompromising intensity that Chuck D’s vocals had made them seem revolutionary. Plus, he was rapping at such a quick pace that his words sounded like they were bouncing all over this avant-garde collage of sound in a way that made them seem more ferocious. I couldn’t think of any vocalist in music history who meant what he said more than Chuck D. Even if I wasn’t paying close attention to the specific things he was talking about, I wasn’t about to disagree with him. Flavor Flav served as the perfect foil to Chuck D as he provided much needed comic relief that gave the listener room to breathe. Without Flavor, the music would have been almost too much to listen to. He may have been on the same page with Chuck D about most things, but he didn’t have the capacity to take himself that seriously. The two of them together were like a comedy duo that was only funny a small fraction of the time, but listening to them interact and play off each other was constantly entertaining.

That year I listened to It Takes a Nation repeatedly for months on end as the music revealed more and more to me upon each listen. I couldn’t get over the pacing of the album and how every part of it seemed to be in exactly the right place. As the album starts with an announcer pumping up a crowd before introducing the group, it gives the listener the feeling that something amazing is about to happen. “Countdown to Armageddon,” the title of track one couldn’t be any more perfect. Once they drop the beat and Flavor Flav and Chuck D make their grand entrances in “Bring The Noise,” it feels almost like a boxing match has begun. “Bring The Noise” serves as a manifesto as well as a preview for what’s to come on the album, with Chuck D rapping, “Never badder than bad ‘cause the brother is madder than mad at the fact that’s corrupt like a senator. Soul on a roll, but you treat it like soap on a rope ‘cause the beats in the lines are so dope. Listen for lessons I’m saying inside music that the critics are blasting me for.”

“Don’t Believe the Hype”

The next track, “Don’t Believe The Hype,” has a slower, funkier beat, but the rapping is just as fierce with Flavor Flav getting more into his role as a goofy sidekick. Next up is “Cold Lampin With Flavor,” where Flavor Flav gets his own solo track, proving that this is no one man show. Then Terminator X gets to show his stuff on “Terminator X To The Edge of Panic,” reminding the listener of how much of a group effort this really is. To seal the deal, “Mind Terrorist” gives the Bomb Squad a chance to make one of their avant-garde sound collages while Terminator X mixes up some Flavor Flav catchphrases.

Finally, when we get to “Louder Than A Bomb,” it’s clear that Public Enemy has already laid out exactly what they plan to do with the record, so here is when they start to pick up steam. The progression that happens over the second half of the record is unstoppable. It’s almost like when a preacher gets on a roll halfway through his sermon, and starts sweating and crying and shouting at the congregation. They break into the 1-2-3 punch of “Caught, Can I Get A Witness!,” “She Watch Channel Zero?!” and “Night Of The Living Baseheads,” which cover everything from the legal ramifications of sampling to women who waste their lives away watching TV to a tale of drug addicts who used to get their fix from music. At this point it becomes very clear that no topic is off limits to Chuck D. He then gets into the most remarkable track of the record, with “Black Steel In The Hour Of Chaos,” which begins with the classic opening lines, “I got a letter from the government the other day. I opened and read it, it said they were suckers. They wanted me for their army or whatever. Picture me given’ a damn – I said never. Here is a land that never gave a damn about a brother like me and myself.” Here Chuck D is at his most fiery and powerful as he offers a rant against the military, the correctional system, and the general treatment of black people in America.

“Black Steel in the Hour of Chaos”

Then, without taking a breath, P.E. go into their grand finale and offer “Rebel Without A Pause,” with its screeching sirens and scratching turntables in a sound collage that refuses to quit. When they break into “Prophets Of Rage,” Chuck D reminds us that this is not your typical hip hop record with the lines, “I roll with the punches so I survive. Try to rock ‘cause it keeps the crowd alive. I’m not ballin, I’m just callin’, but I’m passed the days of yes y’allin’.” Finally we get to the last track, “Party For Your Right To Fight,” which is a brilliant send-up of The Beastie Boys’ “Fight For Your Right To Party.” Here Chuck D and Flavor Flav both rap the same lines at the same time, one in each channel, which makes you feel like your head is about to explode. It’s the perfect way to end the most intense listening experience you’ve ever had.

Somewhere along the way, It Takes a Nation has become the album that I measure all albums against. The way it works as a whole, the way it gains momentum and never loses it, the way the vocals match the music at all times, the way every member of the group gets their chance to shine, the way it completely pummels the senses. It Takes a Nation is now also my go-to angry album whenever I feel like I’m about to blow. The beauty of it is that you don’t have to personally relate to all the subjects they are talking about. It’s not what they are saying, but it’s how they’re saying it, despite the fact that they are saying some incredibly powerful stuff. Since I have fallen in love with this album, there have been specific times in my life, when I couldn’t imagine listening to anything else. I’m at the point where I would feel lost without being able to put this record on when I need it most. You can’t ask for anything more from a little piece of plastic.

* We’re assuming
** Lists subject to change at any time, most likely December
*** “Lists” are presented in no particular order whatsoever

Todd’s Faves of ‘08 so far

Atlas Sound - Let the Blind Lead Those Who See But Cannot Feel
“Recent Bedroom”
Download audio file (bedroom.mp3)

Imagine you have a pop album. Now, go ahead and load it with all kinds of aural embellishments — buzzes, beeps, fuzz guitar, ambient drones, synthesizer glissandos, glockenspiel, bells, music box, krautrock counter-rhythms, drifting choruses, sampler collages, etc. Next, and here’s the unusual part, take the meat and bones of the album, the hooks and riffs and backbeats and overearnest lead vocals, and chuck them out entirely. What you’d be left with would sound pretty close to Atlas Sound’s Let the Blind Lead Those Who See But Cannot Feel. Listening to it is a ghostly, out-of-body experience best suited for high-quality headphones in a zero gravity environment.

Forget the early ’90s, this is what I think of now when I think of Dream Pop.

No Age - Nouns
“Eraser”
Download audio file (Eraser.mp3)

Nouns is a raw, noisy, dense punk rock bulldozer. But underneath the squalls of distortion is a highly nuanced album, crafted with daredevil riffs, shocking melodicism, and a merciful willingness to plant green spaces in the wake of No Age’s destruction. It’s kind of like being roundhouse-kicked in the face by Chuck Norris: it’ll knock you flat on your ass, but at least you’ll appreciate the artfulness of the kick as you’re flying through the air.

Thao with the Get Down Stay Down - We Brave Bee Stings and All
“Bag of Hammers”
Download audio file (Hammers.mp3)

I’ve easily listened to We Brave Bee Stings and All twice as much as any other album this year. What can I say that hasn’t been said before? Good songs is good songs. Plus, the musicianship is top notch. Hands down the best guitar album of the year.

Lil Wayne - Tha Carter III
“Let the Beat Build”
Download audio file (BeatBuild.mp3)

Don’t roll your eyes. This isn’t meant to be the token hip-hop album on the list. Fact is, Tha Carter III is a major event, and nothing else comes even close to touching it in terms of inventiveness, ambition, or scope. Insane alien invader Afro-naut delusions, post-Katrina soul, Top 40 auto-tuned electropop, minimalist bangers, kinky songs about having handcuffed sex with a lady police officer (”Rodney King baby, yeah I beat it like a cop”) — there are at least five songs on this album contending for Best Song of the Year. As high as Weezy sounds on every track, he manages to pull it all together with his batshit crazy analogies, his completely original diction and phrasing (iambic pentameter is so 16th century), and yes, his very own guitar solos.

Is Lil Wayne really the Best Rapper Alive, summer 2008 edition? You better believe it.

Jumbling Towers – Classy Entertainment EP
“Jeer”
Download audio file (Jeer.mp3)

Finally, a band that can claim Joy Division as an influence without that meaning derivative and dreary dance music. These Missourians tore a page from Martin Hannett’s production playbook and conjured up a vaporous, cobwebby space at the center of their sound, allowing the tension to build up between the band’s mechanical post-punk energy and vocalist Joe DeBoer’s anachronistic Edwardian theatricality. If Dr. Frank-N-Furter resided in Castlevania, the resulting madness would have sounded a lot like Classy Entertainment.

Get thee to Jumbling Towers dot com and download it for free right now. I’ve already warned you once, don’t make me do it again.

Scotter’s Faves of ‘08 so far

Evangelicals - The Evening Descends
“Stoned Again”
Download audio file (Stoned.mp3)

I never thought I would ever write/say this sentence in my entire life until I heard The Evening Descends, but here it goes.

I love Evangelicals.

UGh. That was hard, even though I was talking about the band and not the people that got Bush into rehab and into office. To even take that name, Evangelicals must have been intent on challenging listeners. And they do, although they aren’t difficult like some noise bands can be, and their lyrics aren’t indecipherable like two of the other bands on my list. It’s the expansiveness of the sound, the fact that every song is more like a full and garish scene in a movie, with a large set of instruments blaring simultaneously and assisting sounds–a loop here, a guitar shriek there, a moan wherever–entering and exiting the song at random, advancing the plot. The album itself moves from track to track like a film: the previous song fades out, as if fading to black, while the next one fades in, forming a continuous narrative, with topics ranging from drugs, depression, escape, hope, desperation, love, and more escape. Singer/guitarist Josh Jones is remarkable, his voice sounding a tinge like Freddie Mercury when at its strongest, and a lot like Daniel Johnston’s at its very weakest, and most fragile, but always angelic (or perhaps like a spectre) and always spine-tingling. If today was December 31, 2008, this would be my favorite album of the year.

Foals - Antidotes
“Cassius”
Download audio file (Cassius.mp3)

“Cassius” is one of the best songs of the year. I don’t have to say anything more than that, but I will. Antidotes is one of the best albums of the year. More?

Tribal percussion makes possible tribal frenzy of energy in the form of gesticulations and dancing to the syncopated guitar patterns and chanted lyrics. There’s a darkness in this music, and passion, but not so much that its weight bogs down your enjoyment of the album. They’re kind of like Interpol in that way, only on speed.

Why? - Alopecia
“These Few Presidents”
Download audio file (presidents.mp3)

Yoni Wolf is one of my favorite song singers. No, he doesn’t have a classic singing voice, and he doesn’t have much of a singing range, and his singing can rub people the wrong way–I’ve heard some say that he sounds whiny or flat. But what I love about Wolf’s singing is its style and the way he fits all of the syllables and rhymes together. Wolf sings by cadence, utilizing lots of alliteration and short rhymes, and is the best and most articulate singer of consonants that I’ve heard. The lyrics–not to forget the innovative, even visionary musical arrangements–seems worked to perfection, seem to have been worked over draft after draft, expressing exactly what and how Wolf wanted them express.

Cut Copy - In Ghost Colours
“So Haunted”
Download audio file (Haunted.mp3)

My favorite review of In Ghost Colours came from Coke Machine Glow. The first paragraph of the review is reproduced here:

“Yeah, I know, New Order. I don’t care.”

Damn right. You don’t even need to make a party mix anymore. Just play this album in its entirety and there will be dancing all night long.

The Dead Bodies - Cock Cock Cock Cock Xanadu Xanadu
“Paddywagon (for Adults Only)”
Download audio file (Paddywagon.mp3)

Perhaps the weirdest album title of the year (and it’s pretty tough to beat Alopecia in that competition), The Dead Bodies singer/guitarist Jon once explained to me the origin of the album title while in a drunken haze (me, not him). I remember laughing, and thinking it was a pretty clever and interesting story, and that I should probably write it down. I didn’t, and can’t remember a word of it.

Regardless, this Detroit quartet put together one hell of an EP, with clever lyrics, memorable melodies, and a great production considering that it was probably all done in someone’s basement in the suburbs. This collection of songs is more sedate than the distorted guitar rockers and psychedelically inclined noise jams of Mr. Spookhouse’s Pink House, offering instead a more chillaxed, laid back grooviness with touches of pure pop artistry. The lyrics are often coy but still full of lascivious intent (The “All you need is love” chorus to “Paddywagon (for Adults Only)” means something very different from what the Beatles intended with the same lyric).

And it’s all free to download right now! If you don’t download and enjoy it immediately, I’m never going to talk to you again.

“Don’t Go Near the Water” is the opening track on Surf’s Up. It’s an unexpectedly political and (perhaps?) unintentionally goofy song, but I think it’s those odd quirks that make it such a memorable and catchy tune. And as much as everyone loves to hate Mike Love, it’s songs like this that make me tip my hat in his favor.

The below video clip is from YouTube, so of course the audio isn’t great: the harmonies are condensed; the slinky, descending Moog bass riff on the chorus is muffled; and Al Jardine’s high notes aren’t quite as piercing as they are on the record. Even so, thanks to YouTube, you get to scope their wicked early ’70s garb: they look like a group of surly merchant marines on shore leave waiting to be picked up by the Mystery Machine to help investigate some spooks on the dock. Dig those beards!

“To be cool with the water is the message of this song.” Really, Mike? That’s soooo deep.

And in case you can’t get enough of Mike Love and his scraggly beard (I know I can’t), then you’re in for a real treat with cokemachineglow’s list of the Top 22 Pictures of Mike Love Looking Like a Douche. Behold:

I nearly choked on my tongue looking through this list. The photo of Love looking like a douche above looks like it was taken during the video shoot for 1969’s “Break Away” single. Everyone else in the band decided to go with white leisure suits, but not Mike Love. His attire of choice? Jesus robes. (Were Jesus robes his “thing” for a while circa 1969-71? Czech out the video of “Long Promised Road,” also from Surf’s Up. There, at 2:35, again with the Jesus robes! But seriously, though, do watch the video. Not only is Carl Wilson absolutely adorable, but I promise the song is better than any other song dealing with long roads released that decade.)

And while I’m on the subject of Beach Boys and their beards, I feel obligated to mention that the only original Beach Boy who looks remotely clean-shaven in the “Don’t Go Near the Water” wharf scene is Dennis Wilson, which is remarkable considering how he turned out just a few years later:

Download audio file (11 Rainbows.mp3)

Dennis Wilson - “Rainbows”
(from Pacific Ocean Blue)

I guess a lifetime of boozin’, womanizin’, and fraternizin’ with Charles Manson will catch up with you after all.

The reissue of his only solo album, Pacific Ocean Blue, has reignited interest in Dennis Wilson as a songwriter recently. The album is a stark shift from his work with the Beach Boys, and reveals a depressing, fatalistic streak that’s hard to ignore given his tragic and abrupt death in 1983 off the shore of Marina del Rey. Bummertown.

Listen, I don’t want to end this post on a downer, so be sure to listen to “Rainbows,” the Dennis Wilson song about happiness and singing birds and rainbows that still manages to be a little gritty. And be sure to marvel in his beard, which looks like a cross between Grizzly Adams and Jeffrey Lebowski.

And finally, just because I can’t help myself, here’s another cokemachineglow list of the Top Five Sub-Par Beach Boys Tracks That Are Still Better Than Any Song by Wolf Parade.

What? “Ten Little Indians” didn’t make the cut? C’mon!

Friday

Millions of Brazilians

Four-Hour Friends

Broken Social Scene

Saturday

Zoos of Berlin

Billy Paul

Silverghost

Lightning Love

Calexico

Sunday

George Clinton

Epilogue

Here’s a breakdown of the estimated amount of times I’ve listened to “Hyperactive” in my life.

Age Birth to 4-years old: N/A
Age 5-6: probably 400 times
Age 7-29 years: maybe 1-2 times, if it was on the radio or playing as background
Today: 14, at the time of this posting

Well, I told you about Wednesday night already and tried to contribute some thoughtful ideas about The Zombies’ performance on Thursday (ideas which, I fear, may be misconstrued as negative), so here’s a recap of everything else I remember. Let me know if I forgot to remember something.

Friday’s headliner was Broken Social Scene. For some reason, I’ve just never really given BSS a good listen, but I will say that they went out of their way to put on a good show after admitting that they almost had to cancel. Apparently, they played with a skeleton crew of 8 musicians, but still put on a great show. Here’s a more informed opinion on the matter.

Millions of Brazilians played a free show Thursday night at the Garden Bowl, continuing the new tradition of the Garden Bowl Cityfest, and played the Pure Detroit stage on Friday afternoon. These guys get better and better with every new pedal that the guitarist/bassistant buys, and the sound on the Pure Detroit stage throughout the weekend was pretty great. The Millions have two new songs, “Hammer Hammer Carrot” and “Armenia,” that they’ll be recording soon, both of them building on the strengths of their previous songs but adding new textures of sound. This band also has the best worst publicity photos in Detroit.

I saw Four-Hour Friends at the Park Stage and was pleased without being wowwed, but I think it’s because the vocals weren’t mixed for optimal awesomeness and fullness. Any Detroit band that offers me good harmonies is ok by me–I just need to be able to hear them. The band is composed of lots of talented musicians, so my guess is that I’ll be satisfactorily wowwed when I next see them play.

Saturday afternoon began for me at the Pure Detroit Stage for Zoos of Berlin, who I try to never miss whenever they play a show. They have a song called “Electric Way” that they think “people are going to like,” as singer/bassist Daniel Clark pointed out. Guess what? He was right. Word on the street is that Zoos are in the midst of recording that long-awaited LP we’ve been awaiting longly for. Yes!

I then checked out Silverghost and Lightning Love at the Park Stage. I liked Silverghost, despite the Garage-y-ness of the vocals and lyrics. I loved Slumber Party when Marcie Bolen was in the group, but was never a big fan of The Von Bondies stuff, so I guess that’s why I like Silverghost without loving them. Silverghost really helps me to place exactly what Bolen brought to both of those groups. But perhaps that says more about my personal tastes than about any of those three bands.

On the other hand, I’ve been crazy about Lightning Love since I first saw them on a whim during Blowout. I felt a little embarrassed for them when they were introduced as “a gamble,” because this band to me was one of the best and most obvious choices for Cityfest. The band is paying their dues, playing lots of shows over the past 6 months, and are currently at work on their first LP, which I personally think would be a fantastic addition for one quality local label (ahem, ahem).

Like Broken Social Scene, I’m not too familiar with the music of Calexico either, but their tex-mex style kind of won me over. My girlfriend danced a lot during their set. That’s enough for me to like them (my standards are so logical, I know!).

Then came the afterparty. Oh man. What a great time, and thanks to Art F?g for putting it on, with The Dead Bodies and Deastro playing. The Dead Bodies played a great set and played “Hugs and Kisses,” one of my favorite songs of the year.

Deastro played with a full band. Deastro is really great by himself. Deastro with a band is pretty much amazing. Deastro with an orchestra would blow the world apart. Deastro with a bunch of other famous rocks stars in a studio singing “We are the world” would bring world peace.

I concluded the night with a bad decision that would hinder any enjoyment of Sunday: playing flippy cup in a back yard in Ferndale at 4:00 in the morning.

So I awoke bright and early on Sunday afternoon (2:00pm, to be precise), had a few errands to run, but wanted to get to the Pure Detroit stage by 5:00 to check out TAN! before heading off to see George Clinton. Luckily, I got there right at 5:00. Unluckily, TAN! played at 4:00. I am an idiot.

And to those of you who kind of wanted to see George Clinton but were too tired to make it: you probably made the right decision. I think this is my 6th or 7th Cityfest, and I have never, ever seen it so packed around the main stage. I was nearly impossible to get through the entrance toward the main stage. Fighting to get through all of those people, in the hot sun, hungover and tired from four days of Cityfesting and four nights of afterpartying just took it all out of me. And despite my tired, aching body, telling me “no more!” my foot tapped and hips swayed unconsciously for the 50 minutes of P-Funktitude I could manage before fleeing. As I walked out, I saw probably a good hundred people sitting around the parameters of the area, unable to see, but just listening and dancing. The aisles of food vendors nearby the stage were packed too, with people just hanging out there because it was the closest they could get to George Clinton. I hope it was a Cityfest attendance record.

And that’s it. So I, weary-laden but satisfied, am now about to hibernate for a day or two. I saw a bunch of new bands, saw some old faves, did a bit of dancing, and tasted some tastes. Can’t ask for much more than that I suppose. Except maybe some sleep.

A picture post to come soon.