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Looks like our WiFi is down at Fun Fun Fun Fest, so the live blogging will be on hold until we can either get back up or buy a thousand foot LAN cable. While it’s WiFi watch ‘08 down at Waterloo Park, we’ll keep taking pictures and update if any WiFi storms roll through, but be sure to check yesterday’s posts for reviews and pictures and check back with us later in the day.
Technical issues haunted the National’s set last night, and once the band finally got on stage to play (opening with “Brainy”) all issues seemed to have been resolved. Trying to make up for lost time, the band hurtled through a set of material from their latest two albums (Boxer and Alligator). Frontman Matt Berninger noted the brisk pace and say a few words of thanks before a guitar or piano line from the next song would cut him off.
Most songs were suited for the hurried tempo though, and takes of “Abel,” “Apartment Story” and “Mistaken for Strangers” were particularly energetic. Knocking over mic stands and stage monitors as “Abel” began to pick up pace, Berninger contorted himself while screaming the song’s haunted lyrics, “My mind’s not right, my mind’s not right…” into the microphone. With violin bows tearing and guitars screaming, the culminating jam of “Strangers” was quite the ruckus itself.
The band fit in slower numbers like “Slow Show” and “All the Wine,” but the thick, heavy bass maintained the National’s notoriously dark sound well and kept the show lively. A trumpet and a trombone complimented a number of the songs, especially the coda of “Fake Empire” which, at least when I’ve seen the band, is transcribed over to guitars.
They naturally closed strong with “Mr. November,” (”Our last song for a long time,” says Berninger) which saw Berninger again toppling over stage monitors, nearly falling into the crowd himself on a number of occasions. Apparently this is the last National show for a while as the band heads on a much needed break. I think it’s safe to say the ended on a good note.
Setlist:
1. Brainy
2. Secret Meeting
3. Baby, We’ll Be Fine
4. Slow Show
5. Squalor Victoria
6. Abel
7. All The Wine
8. Mistaken for Strangers
9. Apartment Story
10. Fake Empire
11. Start a War
12. Mr. November
If F3 Fest is known for anything, it’s Transmission’s amazing ability to coax punk bands out of retirement. Seriously, if Graham Williams was indie rock kind of guy, he could get the Smiths back together. The Dead Milkmen’s reunion proved everything it should be - hilarious, raucous, and, well, fun! There was probably more stage diving than the fest has ever seen, and to hear songs like “Bitchin’ Camaro” live was awesome. Like many of the day’s acts, the Milkmen took the opportunity to celebrate Obama’s election, saying that if we can get can him elected as our president, there is no reason why anyone can’t accomplish what they want to do, and pointing at the Fest as proof of just that. And before the encore to a rabid crowd, the band was clearly won over, shouting “We’re not sure why we ever stopped doing this!”
Tim Fite may very well be certifiably insane. His songs are stellar and bizarre, rapping atop lilting folk pop samples. The set was heavy on his latest album, Fair Ain’t Fair, and Fite, with his sidekick Sexy Leroy riding shotgun, spun and jittered around the stage like a snake oil salesman speaking in tongues. He managed to pull out a good crowd for the small Stage 2 as well.
Somewhere around 7pm, Dan Deacon, god of all hipsters, crashed the show. Forgoing the stage to join the ranks of the common man, Deacon set up shop in the audience (as you can see from the pictures) and brought the house down from there. With the music pounding and the lights strobing, Waterloo Park briefly turned into a makeshift rave. Deacon encourage activities in the audience, including having people build a long “tunnel” so the rest of the crowd could slowly funnel through it. As you can see from the pictures, the man puts on quite the show.
When I read Murakami’s novels, I tend to imagine Deerhoof’s Satomi Matsuzaki as the female characters. Dancing across the stage with a tiger mask, throwing up hand symbols and jumping in time with a bass guitar slung over her shoulder, she’s an odd sight to behold, but the perfect front woman for such a quirky band. Deerhoof’s often impractical melodic schemes are best described by that word, “quirky,” and perhaps also the phrase: “fucking awesome.”
Lined up across the main stage the band dropped odd time signatures and cartoonish licks on a captive audience. As the night grows closer to its finally, the crowds have been piling in, and from the pit all I could make out was an endless sea of people. So when the band played “” (that song everyone knows), an endless sea of people was “doo-doo-doo-doo-bee-bee”-ing along with Matsuzaki.
For such an odd band, I can’t get over how fun Deerhoof are. They’ve never projected that arrogant, all-important image of some of their contemporaries, and they fast became one of the best bands I’ve seen today.
Fans of wah-wah pedals and heavy-set trumpet players rejoice: it’s Brownout! The Austin group are one of the more unique players at this festival, drawing predominately on funk influences that you won’t find on the punk and indie stages. Wailing horn licks give way to extended guitar solos as Brownout jam their way into the night. The sun has fully set here and the stage lights rain bright colors down on Brownout, as you can see in our pics below. For as many ridiculous guitar solos as I’ve heard today, it’s nice to sit back, do a little live-blogging, and enjoy the bongos in the distance.
No denying Graham Reynolds’ experimental streak, and though his Golden Arm Trio sounded in good form, it didn’t exactly translate that well. But then they were also stuck on Stage 2 nestled in the back, which has had pretty low turnout so far today. When the GAT is on, they’re hard to beat, but sometimes they seem to veer too far out there, or maybe just over my head. Case in point, the closing number, which was introduced as a Duke Ellington tune, but damn if it was anything recognizable to my admittedly less than trained ear.
Earlier this week, I described a lot of bands as “a band you’ll be able to hear anywhere in the park, whether you’re listening or not.” My implication, of course, was that they were loud - “epic” even. Of course, I was speaking metaphorically about most of those bands because, let’s be honest, it’s a big park and there’s a lot of music here.
…Trail of Dead changed all that. Sitting in the media tent right now I can still hear them jamming away on the main stage hundreds of yards away, over a band that’s practically right next to me no less. With two drummers, two guitars and two keyboards, …Trail of Dead make that “epic” description sound less cheesy and more like something to run from. With each guitarist out-epic-ing the other one with higher and louder licks, and most big hits being accented by up to four huge cymbal crashes, these guys leave nothing to the imagination.
What’s more impressive is the coordination it must take to make this set sound good. Two drummers is, musically speaking, a sycopated nightmare; but the band handle it like experts (which they are).
Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to catch the end of their set.
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