GAINESVILLE FEST REPORT, GO!

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            Each year Fest brings with it warm weather (in my attempt to escape Upstate NY winter chills just a bit longer), catch-up’s with friends I haven’t seen in far too long, and a plethora of bands all converging on the little college town of Gainesville, FL.

            I made my travel plan a bit different this year, opting for a cheap bus to NYC and then a cheap flight to Jacksonville.  The main difference being I took the plunge and just rented a car for the week because, honestly, I need a little convenience here and there.

            I got into Jacksonville about midnight and picked up the car.  I figured I’d drive maybe halfway and just find a rest stop to nap at, but none were to be found.  So I just cruised into G’ville, found an empty parking lot, and passed out in the back seat of the car.  I’ve done worse.

DAY 1 (10.31.13)

            I couldn’t sleep past 7:30 AM. I don’t know why.  Maybe it was being cramped in the back seat of a car, who knows.  Either way, I came across a small place I hadn’t seen since my first trip down to Fest a few years ago and was happy to see it was still in business.  The Coffee Culture café that looks like it was a Wawa at some point, or something.  A bit off the beaten path of regular Fest go-ers I assure you, it’s worth a stop.

            So at the registration spot my plan of attack, in order to trump the regs, was as follows:  record/merch shop first, check in second.  It proved to be a good idea because not long after the place was packed tighter than crusties at a 40 oz. giveaway free-for-all.  Viruses thrive in environments like this.  Human factory farm conditions.  I did my biz and then lit out.

            Somewhere along the way I made an annual stop to Karma Cream for their delicious vegan reuben and figured ‘it’s hot out, I’ll get some ice cream too’.  Wrong move.  As much as I vouch for that place, and they have an awesome selection of flavors of vegan ice cream, I did not realize until it was too late that all their ice creams are made with coconut.  I thought my mouth was going to tear itself off my face and commit seppuku. 

            All was redeemed though, when I found Arrows Aim Records.  In all my years I don’t think I have ever found a record store where the quality of the inventory was in perfect unison with the size of the store.  Just take all my money now.  So many good finds, even more that I did not get.  A used section beyond compare.  I want to take that entire store home and live in it.  Forever.

            So finally, some bands started playing.  I thought I’d start off by giving Old Lines a whirl.  They played at this little hole in the wall place called Mars and they played loud, thick, and rough.  Motorhead butting skulls with From Ashes Rise maybe?  Followed up with Citizen over at the Wooly.  There’s a big trend of hardcore dudes exploring 90s alt rock.  It works about half the time.  They were alright, but didn’t captivate me the way good 90’s throwback bands can.  I did, however, have a wonderful conversation with one of the members afterwards about their Talking Heads rip off shirt.  Next, was down the street for Diamond Youth.  More 90s rock-styled stuff from this very hyped band.  But to me it sounded like Foo Fighters.  Not sure if I can hang.

            So back to Mars to try and see Jowls.  Denied. Venue cap is like 6 people at this place.

            So I got next door to see Lemuria.  The problem with seeing Lemuria in the Florida Theater, though, is that it’s in the Florida Theater.  Too much smoking, too packed, security barrier, and all that nonsense.  They were excellent as always though.  I cannot wait to see them again in a smaller setting playing all those new jams.  They even break out “Ozzy” still and that warms the cockles of the heart.

            The rest of the night was spent over in the Wooly and I think it’s probably the best venue here.  It’s quite spacious, but also intimate and inviting.  White Lung kicked it off with their brand of fast and spooky punk.  They were quite good, but it got a little redundant after awhile when all the songs have quick, noodly riffs and erratic howls.    

Obits followed it up with a perfect sound. They might not be too exciting to watch, but seeing as how lean and crisp they pull off their songs is mesmerizing in and of itself.  Still no “Military Madness”, or “I Can’t Lose” though.  Oh well.    

Torche closed out the night with probably the best mix of material I’ve seen them play, even breaking out four songs from their first LP.  I’ve seen them get more wild in the past, but by the end of their set the crowd just looked like a sea of human flesh.  I got on top of the crowd for “In Return” and then retreated back to watch the madness.

DAY 2 (11.1.13)

            There weren’t too many bands I wanted to see today so I took it easy… except for when I thought I nearly threw my back out losing my mind for FuckingInvincible.  And they were the first band of the day for me.  That band is so damn good it hurts…  literally.

            I wanted to see this band Greys play, but they canceled and Jowls took their place.  I guess fate rewards me as I missed them yesterday.  They seemed way more chaotic and heavy than their 10” sounds.  I was digging it.  Burly noise rock.

            I spent most of the day seeing where it would take me.  And it randomly took me to Reggae Shack with a chance encounter with a few friends I hadn’t seen in forever.  I have skipped Reggae Shack every year out of fear that their spicy food would kill me.  I ended up having a huge meal that was wonderful, and great conversation that was rewarding.  Afterwards I checked out another record store (Hear Again) and scored a Mission Of Burma double LP for $10.  Unheard of.

            Restorations played a mystery band set at the Atlantic and they broke out a few of their lesser-known songs, especially the long-winded trippy ones. And it was great that they can just go into all that so effortlessly and still sound crushing.  I’m very much looking forward to their official show on Saturday.

            Caught some of Sleepytime Trio (who were definitely not as wild as the last time I saw them), before heading over to 1982 where many upstate and Philly people convened to watch Cayetana.  It’s great to see friends get on stage and just go for it, even if they’re just figuring out how to be a band because they’re having too much fun while doing it.  It was a little sloppy, but they had better songs than I had imagined, that had nice plaintive melodies behind them.  It was certainly an unexpected surprise.

            I spent too much time fucking around, like getting legit vegan soft serve (no coconut!) and couldn’t get in to see Ceremony.  It sounded like it got pretty wild though.

            Just as I got back to the hotel it started pouring rain, so I just sat on the balcony and watched it come down.  A couple from Houston came over and we talked shit for a couple hours while it downpoured.  Different worlds, but fun nonetheless.

INTERLUDE I- ROOT BEER REVIEWS

            So throughout the weekend I frequented an establishment on the corner of Main and University (also right next to the Atlantic and across from the Wooly) called Pop-A-Top.  It was basically a really awesome bodega that had vegan soft serve, all manner of wacky snacks, and a plethora of root beers from all over.  Anyone who knows me knows that I’m not a big soda guy…  except for root beer.  I love root beer.  So, seeing their wide ranging selection made me feel obliged to partake in what they had to offer.  I started with Reading Draft, hailing from Reading, PA…  which isn’t too terribly far away from me.  I should visit there.  This is good root beer.  It had a nice sharp taste with a good amount of bite and a nice sweet aftertaste.  The next day I tried Captain Eli’s.  It still had a good taste, but a little on the sweet side, and not much bite.  It looked promising, but was overall just OK.  A day later I took in a Sioux City Sarsaparilla, a favorite that I don’t get to have all that often.  You can’t go wrong with a Sioux City.  My man Rory joined in the root beer tasting and got himself a Frosties.  Now, I’d never heard of this variety, but man, did he pick a winner.  It had a strong bite and, as the name implied, cold and crisp.  I should have gotten one of my own.

DAY 3 (11.2.13)

            Happy birthday to me.  And what a day to get old indeed.  Who can say they saw the Descendents film (“Filmage”), The Night Marchers, Braid, Paint It Black, J. Robbins, Soul Control, Restorations, and Creepoid all on the same day?  Well, I did and it was the best show ever…  even if it took place at different venues.

            “Filmage” was a good, relaxing way to start the day.  I’ve never been a Descendents fanatic, but I appreciate them and even saw them once about 15 years ago.  So the film was a great way to learn their history, as well as all the humor, tragedy, and silliness that went along with it.  It seemed more about the story of Bill Stevenson, and his life’s journey seems to have been epic and profound.  It was a great window into the lives of people that I had previously only known surface details about.

            NoSir was the first band I actually watched today though and they did a great job showcasing loud and grungy hardcore.  So much so that I bought up whatever recorded material they had to offer.

            And from there I knew I was going to spend the next several hours too busy to eat so I loaded up on Flacos Tacos.  Seriously, you can’t beat $2 tempeh tacos.  You just can’t.  So I got four and ate happily while others looked on, clearly disgusted at my gluttony.  Suck it, twerps.

            The next four hours were spent in the decrepit smoke-hole known as the Florida Theater.  Sure, you get a pretty good view no matter where you’re standing, but the sound can be rough and the indoor smoking makes me want to vomit through my eyes.  For every person who lit up next to me I was hoping to return the favor by barfing in their mouth.  This is, by the way, no sort of straightedge revenge rant, it’s just common courtesy.  Smoke outside, herbs.  You’re gross.

            So anyway, I saw Boy Sets Fire (by accident) for the first time in over ten years.  I wanted to avoid them because their music has not aged well.  It’s full-on modern radio butt rock.  I’ll give them this though- their singer still has golden pipes.  I don’t particular care for the way he sings, but he does it really well.

            So anyway, I saw Braid for the first time in 10 years (on purpose) and they still have boundless energy and sound excellent.  I was rusty on a lot of their songs, but I guarantee they were all good.  A lot of old stuff, some new stuff too.

            Fuck yeah, Night Marchers came on next.  Thin crowd.  Those not in attendance lose.  Turn in your Fest pass, game over.  Speedo’s in-between song banter is unparalleld in quick-witted, off-color hilarity.  The music’s not bad either.  RFTC minus the horns?  Hot Snakes minus Rick Fork?  I’d say that kind of sums it up.  They played almost all of “Allez, Allez”, which is one of the best records to have come out this year (or was it last year?).

            Paint It Black was on the opposite end of the spectrum of awesome.  Or, should I say, if Night Marchers were one kind of awesome than PIB was another kind.  That sounds more polite.  Insane pitting, wild dudes.  Dan Yemin is in control, uncrushable.  I think he cried tears of stone during “Little Fists”.  Go ahead, call him on it.  He will stare through you, Rollins style.  No fucking around.  All serious and all fun, but it’s like you just went to class in a demilitarized zone.

            OK, so Dillinger Four.  I have been at shows they played and always missed them.  So I made it my business to watch some of their set.  Good stuff.  Unfortunately, when you’ve already seen 10,000 other bands bite their style before seeing the originators of said style it doesn’t quite feel the same.

            Now it was time for my annual viewing of a Soul Control set.  They played so damn loud, but they played really great and had tons of energy.  The newer stuff I still haven’t heard was awesome.  Rory puked.  They covered “Breed” and I think I might have killed at least three people.

            Next I wandered down to Boca Fiesta to see a band called Pile.  I’ve heard a number of people tell me I have to hear this band.  They said I’d like it.  They were right.  But I can’t even describe them properly without sounding like an idiot.  Imagine the vocal cadence of Neutral Milk Hotel and Tom Waits colliding with weird post-hardcore song structures and riffs, and a strong dose of slacker indie rock.  See?  I’m an idiot.  Just listen to the band.  They’re really good.

            I raced back to the Wooly to see Restorations for a second time, this being their official show.  They were one of the best damn bands all weekend.  They have so much passion and energy, and the three hundred-plus people all losing their shit to their music made it all that much better.  They so have their own thing happening and are owning the fuck out of it, spitting it back out, and people freak out over it.  I know I do.  Re-evaluate your life and have it changed by how good these dudes are.

            After that life-affirming event I rushed back over to Boca to see what I could catch of Creepoid.  This is basically the only conflict I have all weekend- see Creepoid pull off their wild psych-rock/hardcore mix, or see J. Robbins kill me with basically anything he does?  I opt for both- half a set from each performer.  Creepoid played three or four new songs in a row that were all psychedelic chaos.  Beautifully violent.  I’m way looking forward to this new record they have coming out.  And then I ran back to see what I could of J. Robbins, who was playing to a surprisingly sparse room.  Don’t most of these people realize he came up with a bunch of the sounds and music that half these bands bite?  Shameful.  He was in the midst of a Burning Airlines song when I came in and it sounded like a full band, even though it was just him, a second guitarist also playing a Rhodes, and a cellist.  He broke out “Static” and I almost cried.  Then he busts into a fucking Lungfish song.  LUNGFISH.  How I have waited for some band to cover a Lungfish song (because I know I’ll never actually get to see them).  “Love Is Love”.  Goddamn.  Other people even knew it!  Did I just go to fantasy land where the world has good taste in music?  He closed with “Savory”, of course.  Why wouldn’t he?  Would stage diving during an acoustic set be improper audience etiquette?  All I knew was that was the great ending to an awesome birthday.

INTERLUDE II- ADVENTURE TIME

            Just wanted to give a quick shout out to all the people who did Adventure Time costumes during Halloween (and, might I add, did them well).  From the fantastic Finns to the fine Fionnas, one stellar Lumpy Space Princess, and a totally acceptable Lemongrab (in fact, probably one of the best put together costumes in the history of costumes ever) I applaud all of you for having great taste in excellent cartoon awesomeness.

DAY 4 (11.3.13)

            I had nothing much to do most of the day so I took advantage of having a car and went outside of town for a bit.  First, checked out a swamp/forest trail that emptied out into a prairie.  Before that exit I saw spiders the size of my fist suspended in-between trees.  They weren’t tarantulas.  These made tarantulas look like fuzzy teddy bears.  These were lethal attack killing machines.  The apache helicopter of spiders.  T-1000 model.

            After that hike I actually saw a map and noticed that if I wanted to see alligators I was on the wrong end of the park and had to go back towards the city.  I drove back, got a little lost, and then came across a public park, where I walked about a mile, went off onto another trail, through a bog of some sort, and then saw a gaggle of alligators chilling about a foot away from me.  Risky death scenario.  I’m human meat to them and it’s not a matter of ‘if’, but ‘when’ they will decide to take me for food.

            By the middle of the day I was ready to actually see some bands.  Caught the last bit of a one-man drum/electronic thing called NAH.  While that’s a great name for a band, it sort of also summed up my attitude towards what I was experiencing. 

            Ex-Breathers followed up.  I wanted to see them based on the Fest booklet write-up.  Yeah, that’s cheesy, but I’m glad I did.  They may have been the best new(ish) band I saw all weekend.  They were chaotic in the best possible way, showing technical prowess and not freaking out just for the sake of it.  It’s hard to nail down what they were doing, but after some follow up listening I’m thinking they have a sort of off-the-wall technical fury like Keelhaul being overtaken by the hectic post-hardcore wailing of bands like 1.6 Band and Die 116. Sure, obscure references, but that’s what I got.  Deal with it and listen to them if you know what’s good for you.  They had an agenda, executed it with flair and still lost their marbles while playing it all perfectly.  Extremely impressed.

            DrugChurch followed, except that they didn’t because they had to drive home for an emergency.  That was the biggest let down all weekend.  So bummed.  So I decided to eat, but couldn’t because of sadness, and getting distracted by looking at records.  Depression leads to buying things I guess and before I knew it I was going to be late to see Slingshot Dakota.  And if their positivity couldn’t cheer me up than I may as well go back to the gators and shove my head into their gaping maws.  So, of course, Slingshot starts and they always sound so big for a band with two people and as they’re playing something sounded familiar and I couldn’t quite place it…  wait, are they playing a fucking Title Fight song?  That’s ballsy.  Nevertheless, they may be just keyboards and drums but they play the shit out of them, and have enough sincerity to re-brand this entire fest as ‘hug your neighbor fest’.  Good or bad, no judgment.

            Finally, food.  Reggae Shack one more time for the win in my stomach.  I am a convert.  And after walking off that giant meal and spending most of the evening in the company of friends, randomly poking my head in to see a few bands here and there it was time to see the raging party animals in Ramming Speed tear up the Atlantic.  I have not seen this band in a few years and they have gotten so incredibly good it’s stupid.  There were laser lights, a fog machine, dual solos out the ass, and an alcoholism that somehow makes them all play tighter.  Their existence can be summed up in the following between-song banter offered by their frontman:  “When a bunch of psychopaths blow up the world with nuclear weapons we will headbang our way to freedom!”  Yup.

            I accidently wandered into a Lucero show while looking for wherever Knapsack were playing.  Good lord.  Never have I seen a band that looked more like they belonged in an episode of Duck Dynasty than these Winn Dixie-fed hillbillies.  If you are a trucker, chew tobacco, and enjoy wrasslin’ you probably like Lucero.  I had an epiphany that you could throw a couple of Disrupt t-shirts on these guys, take a photo, and a casual observer might mistake them for Crowbar.  It’s all relative, man.

            So the night (and Fest) was finished up with some of each set from Knapsack (once I found where they were playing) and All.  Both bands sounded/played excellent, but I think I enjoyed Knapsack more.  I watched a bit of All more out of curiosity than anything.  But after enough smoke inhalation I had to call it a night.

            Yes, this town has thoroughly entertained me all weekend, from the foolish drunk bro’s getting tossed out on their ass one after another during All, to the weirdoes committing to wearing some goofy costume all weekend, to the endless parade of dreamy punk girls that exist in some fantasy world where they all have crazy bright dyed hair and upper leg tattoos (side note:  upper leg tattoos are the new swallows on hips… calling it) and buy cool records all day, and, of course, all the kind people I met and the general sense of camaraderie amongst total strangers.

ENDNOTE:

            Picked up, last minute, a couple other people to take back to Jax with me in the AM.  In turn, I missed my flight by about two minutes, mostly because TSA had one dude working the entire line.  Yeah, it’s Monday morning jarheads, people fly places then.  I thought these dick doors had budgets the size of Wyoming?  Bring a couple more people into work!

            I nearly crossed the line into the ‘no fly list’, but kept my cool and sat in the life-sucking vortex of the Jacksonville airport for an additional six hours until I got on a stand-by flight.  From JFK I caught the subway to the Port Authority.  From the PA I got a Greyhound that left the city at 10:30 PM.  My wife picked me up at 3 in the morning, I went to bed, and then got up and went to stupid work.  The end.

IT'S DONE

It's been a good year or so, so it's about time for another issue of TRANSLATE. This time around we go back to interview style and catch up with the likes of Restorations, Fucking Invincible, Iron Lung, Mission Of Burma, and Nate Newton about growing up, having families (or lack thereof), and trying to still find time to do this 'punk band' stuff/nonsense. Additionally, plenty of rants as well as some comics to boot. 32 pages chock full of reading/viewing material.

I implore you all to check this out and/or buy.

TRANSLATE #7


* PS- I'll be heading down to Gainesville Fest again this week and will have them with me there if you are reading this and going there.  Otherwise, mailorder buddy.

ROCKTOBER REVIEWS

Yes, it's not an October without Rocktober.  I don't care if it's the name of a magazine, or probably some shitty local radio station promotion I'm taking it.  I will always take it.  And with that being said, I'd like to lay down some stuff that hath been reviewed in this month, the month of scary stuff, Fall colors, and hot apple cider.  Get into it or drop out of life.

BLACK GOD, “Three” 7”

If the title didn’t give it away, this is the third seven inch from this Louisville side group.  And like their previous records there are again six songs, each no longer than two minutes in length.  It’s a good rule to keep, and since this band seems to be more out of fun than anything it’s great to see that their quick songwriting doesn’t get too self-involved.  Since it’s basically what was Black Cross rejuvenated that ought to give an idea.  And when you get fellows from Coliseum and Young Widows teaming up for this thing imagine their styles colliding and birthing songs with an upbeat tempo and a love of Wipers jams.  Top it all off with vocalist Rob Penningtons very distinctive yelp, as well as his always thoughtful lyrics and you get another winner from Black God.  (No Idea)

GREAT FALLS, “Accidents Grotesque”

I know I’m in the old minority here because at this point audio violence such as this is a bit dated, but I don’t know how anyone can listen to this and not want to smash all things nearby in fits of miserable rage.  Great Falls have been churning out warped noisecore heaviness for a few years now, and before that two of their three members were fracturing skulls in Playing Enemy.  This is their second full length and it’s just as mean, noisy, twisted, and ugly as anything they have done in years past, over various bands.  I mean, ugly is clearly the proper word here.  If one were to describe the sound of this band in one word it would clearly be ‘ugly’.  Titles such as “God Arms the Patriot” and “Replace Me With Fire” give way to knotted, coiled riffs that bend and sink so low into your skull and then whip you back out of the water with harsh, pained vocals and frantic rhythms.  Noisecore at it’s nastiest.  I will never not be moved by heaviness such as this.  (Hell Comes HomeRecords)

“HENRY AND GLEN FOREVER AND EVER”, Tom Neeley & more (Igloo Tornado)

The original book/comic that launched this was hilarious.  Glen Danzig and Henry Rollins as ‘life partners’ and engaging in blissful domestic life together.  This one is a little short on content, but offers three short comics from Tom Neeley, Mark Rudolph, and Josh Bayer.  Neeley takes a stab at offering up his regular cartoon-ish style crossed with some Jack Kirby homage (in fact, there’s a few Kirby digs throughout).  Rudolph makes light of some recent Danzig foibles in “How the Chores Thrill”.  Finally, Bayer takes a surrealist approach to the pair’s lifelong path-crossing and their complaints through it all.  Pretty funny stuff, but I think I liked the hodgepodge of random nuttiness in the first edition.  Tack on another 10 pages and this thing would have been stellar.  (IWDYComics)

MALLWALKERS, “Shake the Rust Off”

This Buffalo ensemble collects various people from a number of local bands and splays them all out in an 11-piece no-wave funk band.  Imagine some wild alliance of James Chance and the Contortions, Parliament, and Bauhaus all blended together for some repetitive party jams heavy on the horns and somehow sad at the same time.  I don’t know how it works, it just does. However, I cannot see myself spinning this regularly.  It’s pretty weird, but funky and somehow these 11 people are organized enough to make it happen.  (Peterwalkee Records)

PSYCHIC TEENS, “Come”

For one reason or another I just assumed this band was a pop-punk band of some kind.  I couldn’t be more wrong.  Oh sure, at times they play kind of fast and I suppose what they do could be considered punk.  But this has way more to do with goth-y post punk with really wild and grating guitar effects.  Immediately I think of Peter Murphy fronting Year Future or The VSS (minus keyboards), but that might be too obscure a comparison.  Take the vocals of Joy Division, the repetitive rhythms of Gang Of Four and some really terrorizing guitar effects.  And somehow it’s all quite catchy.  It just works really well.  And while some songs have that more upbeat feel they also keep it slow, lengthy, and hypnotic with songs like “Lust” (one of the best here) and “Veil”.  The CD version also includes their first full length tacked on as well, which is just about as good, if not a little weaker on the production side.  (SRA Records)

RED FANG, “Whales and Leeches”

First things first, the band really outdid themselves with how insane this record looks (well, maybe kudos are in order to the designers right?).  It’s like some B-movie poster about some monster collage, except, ya know, way better.  Anyways, on to the music.  I remember this band’s first record and it was quite a ripper.  But I really can’t remember much of it to be honest.  And that was the last I heard of them.  So my gut feeling is they have evolved quite a bit since that time.  I do recall them having hints of Mastodon in their sound, and that remains here.  But combine that with some rather Queens Of the Stone Age style desert rock riffing, tones, and harmonized vocals (evident in the psych-fuckery at the end of “1516” and the stone-y “Every Little Twist”).  Now take those two band references, mash ‘em up, and bake on ‘beer party rock’ and you get a Red Fang soufflé’.   Yes, quite enjoyable indeed.  (Relapse)

SELF DEFENSE FAMILY, “The Corrections Officer In Me” 12”

I highlight this particular release out of the many, many records SDF is consistently excreting into the ether because of a few factors.  First, apparently they wrote and recorded this in a couple days and still came up with three songs that are better than most bands that spend months on compositions.  Second, the design of this record is ridiculous.  The cover is very plain but they managed to screen print all the lyrics onto the B-side of the record.  Really neat idea.  Finally, these songs are great.  “Pop Song Written On the Automall” rolls with a repetitive little riff and Pat’s hoarse vocals riding atop of them until a weird chorus melody comes in with a different singer(s?).  The damn thing has been stuck in my head for days now.  That is usually the sign of a good song.  The two other songs are fairly long, so don’t worry about spending a little extra dough, it’s worth your time.  (Family Drugs)

SPRINGTIME, “South Hill” 7”

The band is described as mixing up Dag Nasty and Swiz.  Between the melodic hardcore and gruff vocals I get where they are coming from on both counts.  The lyrics, though, fall a little bit into the bland Saves the Day field and musically it tends to veer into modern pop-punk/hardcore.  It’s OK though; their hearts are in the right place.  It’s the curse of youth looking up to awesome bands that were tearing it up while the members of this band were still wearing diapers.  What can you do?  It’s all time and place and to expect a young band to fully grasp the energy of older bands they look up to is a tough thing to grasp.  Kudos for trying and half-succeeding.  (TinyEngines)

SORT OF RIOT FEST REVIEW....

I cut out to Rochester early in the morning because for some reason it’s $150 cheaper to fly to Chicago from there than from Syracuse.  I don’t question it, I just roll with it.  Everything goes smooth and I’m in the air and then back on the ground again before I know it.

            I got my crib sheet for stuff to do today and it pretty much goes out the window when I realize easier plans can be made.  The new Chicago Diner is very hip and packed.  Get me a bar seat and feed me too much food.  I’m in over my head before the main course even shows up and move it straight from the plate to a to-go container because I’m way too full to eat anymore.  I walk a good mile down the street to Wicker Park.  I know the area a little bit so I check what I’m familiar with.  Quimbys and Reckless Records fall before my powers of perusal (is that a word?).  I scour bins and books, make serious business of viewing things over and make some astute purchases.  Once complete I figure I may as well head over to Humboldt Park to take in what I can of this Riot Fest thing, or at least get a lay of the land.  Plus, it’s awesome outside, chilling in a park all day is not an altogether bad option.

            I get close and I can hear the strains of Flag playing.  The future is then commodified, reunited, and sponsored by energy drinks.  Actually, I couldn’t see in so I had no idea if it was good or bad.  I could hear “Rise Above” and “Damaged” echoing for blocks.  I wandered up and down the length of the park area as seas of punkers wandered about.  The usual lowly caste of crusty punk beggars loitered in one smelly mass across the street like the bums they are and failed to realize the irony of begging for change to other punk kids.  When you stare into the abyss it stares back at you.  Whatever’s left of Blondie could be heard off in the distance and I took a good walk around the perimeter to get an idea of what was what.

            Soon darkness began to fall.  I noticed some kids sneak in through a gap in the fence before Public Enemy started playing and I figured I could do the same.  I cased the area a bit only to come back and find security guys beefing right in the area I saw the kids go through, so forget it.  I could see and hear well enough from the other side of the fence and caught PE play a weird set that consisted of portions of their songs, and rapping over AC/DC and mash-up’s of Nirvana.  What happened?  Is this the same group of musical terrorists I knew and loved from my youth?  I got a call from my group saying they were bailing out and in good time too.  This was getting weird.

            We headed back to the Wicker Park area to see an after show by the one and only Rocket From the Crypt at the Double Door.  I haven’t seen them since 2001 so this was a real treat for me.  Of course, two other bands had to play first.  Tight Phantomz opened and the legendary Mike Lust was in top form.  Not much had changed in the 15 years since I’d seen him front the massively underrated Lustre King.  The Flatliners were next.  I realized these were the same guys who were holding up the line at the Chicago Diner earlier in the day so my opinion was a little negative from the get-go.  But they played fast, short songs, had respectable stage banter, were quick and to the point, and then got the fuck out of the way.  I can get behind that.

            Waiting for RFTC to start some dude next to me asks me to save his spot so he can take a leak and offers me and another fellow drinks to do so.  Seems reasonable.  In the meantime, some mouth breather literally three of me wide rolls her way through to ‘talk to her friend’ and budges (if getting steamrolled by a house on stubs can be considered ‘budging’) right in front of me where this dude was standing.  Forget a polite shimmy past a person, or even a diplomatic negotiation of making some space.  No.  Your McMansion-sized ass (with two car garage) just plows right through with false pretense like you own the damn place.  I always get some basketball player standing in front of me, or some drunk disoriented push-pitter rolling into me.  This time I get the human personification of Lumpy Space Princess taking up the whole damn front row.  So the dude comes back with a water for me and somehow squeezes into some space.  I finish the water and throw the bottle under this enormous humans feet.  I hope she slips on it and crushes a cankle.  With my luck though she’ll step on it and the pressure will form a diamond or something.

            So Rocket From the Crypt gets on.  Speedos’s stage banter is in full effect and they launch into “Dollar”.  And odd opening pick, but incredible nonetheless.  I’m shouting, jumping, flexing, hooting, hollering, and loving life.  They dive into “Don’t Darlene” and four songs straight from “Scream Dracula Scream”.  Speedo goes on a rant about ND being in a leg cast and how he’s persevering despite having ‘foot cancer’ and kick into “SturdyWrists”.  This all goes on for a good hour, song after wonderful song.  I came into the show tired, and I left feeling like I could stay up another three days.  Heck, Speedo even got the crowd to give each other back rubs before closing the night out.

            We take the train back and it’s nearly 3 AM before I turn in.  The next morning it’s already dreary out before I even leave.  Nevertheless, we gear up and head out to Riot Fest. 

            Braving the cold drizzle we check out Peter Hook and The Light.  Picture this- the bass player from Joy Division covering Joy Division with a scab backing band.  The dude plays bass about half the time while a scab bass player does the majority of the work.  Hook looks fairly fat and tired, gives a lot of defiant rock poses while singing nothing like Ian Curtis.  I guess for a cover band they were pretty decent.

            I bailed about halfway through to see Mission Of Burma on another stage.  Now there’s a bunch of much older guys still making relevant music and doing what they used to do just as good as ever.  So given that they had all of about 40 minutes to play they mostly threw out the well-known stuff, peppered in a few newer songs, and all in all played a good set from across their large catalog.  Surprisingly, the only song off of “Vs.” they played was “That’s How I Escaped My CertainFate”.  Weird.

            Right afterwards Quicksand started on another stage.  They seemed a little out of place in a more punk-oriented fest and played mostly their slower, heavier stuff.  Again, not a long set s a lot of great stuff was cut out.  But I didn’t mind, I’d see them again tonight.  Their sound was a little funny for such a huge stage.  Overall, pretty cool, but not at their best.

            I took a little break to take in the scenery and rain.  For Upstate NY people out there just imagine a punk version of the New York State Fair with four Chevy Courts (no seats though) instead of one.  That’s what this looks like.  Definitely a lot less white trash, but I don’t know, punks can hide that pretty well under enough hair dye.   

After getting soaked and eating overpriced vegan pizza under a tree I took in the reunited Dismemberment Plan.  They still play incredibly well.  Travis Morrison still has a perfect voice and has not lost any of his vocal range.  Hell, they don’t even look like they aged at all.  Were they teleported here directly from 2002?  They played a mix of older songs and some promising new ones that made for a dancey, catchy, and fun set.  Good stage humor as well.

            I decided next to watch a bit of Bob Mould.  Good god, that man can play.  His band is incredible, his voice is still golden, the songs are still blasting.  He was not on my to-see list, per se, but I’m glad I did.  And he looked as if he pulled the entire thing off with ease, like kicking everyone else’s ass was no more difficult than brewing a cup of morning coffee.  The man threw in a number of Sugar and Husker Du songs in the set.  Very fun, very energetic.

            Duty then called because Rocket From the Crypt were gearing up to play.  The song order was switched up a bit from last night, and banter was similar as well, just abridged a little to account for a slightly shorter set.  Instead of repeatedly calling Chicago the Windy (wine-dee) City he kept calling Riot Fest Diarrhea Island like he really didn’t know where he was.  Classic.  Everything else sounded perfect.  He even did the back rub thing again.  The club show was better, but this wasn’t far behind.  Still, no “State Of the Art…” songs either night.

            It was getting colder and wetter and we weren’t sure how much longer we wanted to stay.  We wandered off to see what we could of Suicidal Tendencies.  And that was pretty wild.  I don’t know who all the dudes on the stage were aside from Mike Muir.  I assume it’s either Infectious Grooves, or scabs from Body Count or something.  They sure could play their asses off though and had boundless energy to run around and get wild.  Their stage banner had the whole family of band names going around it so I guess if Infectious Grooves plays they can just turn the banner ninety degrees and all of a sudden it’s an I.G. banner!  Turn again and it’s a Cyco Mike-o solo gig!  Comedy aside, I’d never seen ST and they were really pretty awesome.  Not many bands can insert their name in some way into as many song titles as ST does and still make it sound like a new song.

            At this point it was decided that we were all too old, tired, and wet to go on without some adult-baby nourishment from the elements so we headed back to where were staying, dried off, got something to eat, and then I made my way out to see Quicksand play a show in a place about the size of a shoebox.  I got front row center to witness them play a place smaller than I’d ever seen them play before (even in ‘94/’95 they were playing places bigger than this).  They plowed through about 15 songs, most of which was from “Slip” with a few jams from “Manic Compression”, as well as “Shovel”.  No opener, just them, and it couldn’t have been more perfect.  It was definitely the best set I’d ever seen them play.  I knew I’d never get an opportunity like that again, and even if I did, it wouldn’t compare.

            In the AM it was back to sunny Fall weather and no rain.  I caught the train to the airport, blew through the skies, and was back in Syracuse before I knew it.  Even though I was only out of town for a couple days it felt like a long time.  I guess having some fun experiences like this will do that to a person.