Tuesday, August 09, 2005
InToNation
A few weeks back my pal Breezy and I attended a happy little extravaganza in Chi-Town called the Intonation Music Festival 2005. In short, it was a whole bunch of "independent" music -- bands with small labels but no radio play.
As the Modest Mouse says, Well, well, well, well, well, well, well, well, here we go:
Working on "Breezy Time", we arrived slightly late, missing the first act, but that was OK because there were many acts to go. It was a hot day -- sunny and low- to mid-90s. When we got into the park where this thing was held, I saw a large field in the center; it was empty. But to the edges -- where there were some trees, tents, and thus, shade -- sat crowds of water-swilling people. Right away, we knew it was going to be a warm one.
The set-up was key, with two stages. As soon as one band finished, the other stage started with the next band. This kept the music going nearly constantly and prevented overcrowding around the stage.
Dungen
We caught their set half-way through, and they were great. Could have played an hour more. Guitarist was accomplished and gave the sound a nice lead against the bass, which was high, but not over-dominating in the mix. The lead singer played the flute, which was neat because he didn't do it in the regular, prog-rock manner of flute-playing. It worked. Fit right in there. I can tell this is a bit of a jam band, and at some point in time I'll pick up a record. Their last song ended kind of strangely because the guitar wouldn't stay in tune so the guitarist got pissed and unplugged. He tried a new one, but it was too late. Odd because I liked the fucked-up sound, even knowing it wasn't what he wanted. Sounded good.
Xiu Xiu
Didn't really see this band. We were hungry, so grabbed some Polish sausage and brew and sat down to listed. Sounded like they had technical difficulties and never really got going. I've since heard great things about this band, but honestly, the Polish was much more memorable.
Out Hud
After the mess of the Xiu Xiu set, we decided to hit up the CD tents. I scored an awesome $1.00 CD by a disbanded band called Olo. Otherwise, I paged through old vinyl and found the stupidest product of all time: on a hot summer day, some idiot was selling forearm-warmers. I looked at her, but I could not find the words.
When we wandered over to Out Hud, we were immediately blown away by the amount of bad white-guy dancing going on. Holy crap. In fact, there seemed to be an awful lot more dancing than actual music being played. I think there was a guy at a keyboard and a bassist in the back; those two seemed to be doing all the work. But the nutjob up front and his two women just kind of grooved around the stage. The nutjob (Nic Offer) really stole the show -- you really had to witness the dancing; words really do it no justice -- and at the end of the set, he told the crowd: "So, like, have a great day, man. Like, fuckin-A." I turned to Breezy and said, "The first prophetic quotation of the afternoon."
Because we enjoyed Dungen's set so much, we decided to check out their guitarist in the DJ booth that was set up. It was a small tent, fairly cool, so I thought we scored pretty well by getting front-row spots. After a wait, and a short introduction, the guitarist and singer walked onstage. I thought for sure we'd hear some of their new album . . . but they just started playing instrumental music. After a while, one of them would put his beer down and adjust the pitch or tone. And the music just kind of droned on. Meanwhile, these two started occasionally rocking out to each other . . . while everyone stood there and watched. Then the rocking out would stop and they'd make an adjustment. Then they sat on the floor and sipped their beers, listening. Here's the weird thing: at no point did they look at, speak to, or acknowledge the crowd. It was like we weren't there. When Breezy said, "So, you know who else is onstage?" he didn't have to ask twice.
The Hold Steady
So we caught the last half of The Hold Steady's set. I really like the band, and I really like the lyrics -- very funny and direct. But the lead singer (Craig Finn) . . . doesn't sing. He just speaks. I've heard more about this band than any other at the festival, so I think if any band hits the mainstream, it'll be this one. But the guy doesn't sing. He just speaks. It's interesting for a while. And like I stated -- the lyrics are terrific. But I kept wanting him to get to the chorus with some singing. Didn't happen. At some point, I'll break down and buy an album.
Andrew Bird
Directly after The Hold Steady, we got a good spot for Andrew Bird, who I've heard of, but never heard. The day was roiling hot at this point, but the music made up for it. Bird is a "looper", and a damn good one, moving from violin to guitar to whistling (which is a good novelty he maybe overuses at times). He had the best drummer of the day with him, which helped matters. Kevin O'Donnell worked from a small, jazz set that perfectly fit the music. Bird's a good writer, even if he falls into the "idealistic leftist" pile. Not much fucking around here, either. He started early and gave much more music than could be expected for the weather.
Deerhoof
During Bird's set, I could feel the heat sapping me. I made it through 24 oz of water and still felt dry. [Side note: during the whole day, full of several beers and many, many oz's of water, I didn't go once. Not until 10:15 PM did I hit the port-o-let, and that was just because I thought "What the hell?" And I drank a ton of water, I just sweat it all out. Now someone's saying to someone else: "I just read some guy's blog where he talks about how he only peed once all day." Which is what I've always wanted to do with this website.] Back to our story. During and after the Bird set, I heard people talking about the upcoming Deerhoof set: "Oh, I can't wait to see Deerhoof." "Oh, I can't believe Deerhoof is here. They're amazing." And, folks, that's all the motivation I needed. Fuck the heat exhaustion, I thought. Let's just screw it and go see this great band called Deerhoof.
When they got onstage, they started jamming. Sounded OK. I liked the bassist and guitarist. Drummer was terrible. All arms, schizoid, as if he hits the skins randomly. But the music seemed very . . . stop and start. I'm not somebody who needs a set, traditional melody, but this was just annoying because I knew the guitarist and bassist could play. But all potential came to a halt because then the lead singer started "singing": "Ba-Ba-Ba-Ba-Ba-Ba . . . China!" Band plays again, thrashing, hard music, then: "Ba-Ba-Ba-Ba-Ba-Ba . . . bamboo!" More thrashing, banging, then: "Ba-Ba-Ba-Ba-Ba-Ba . . . chicken!"
I turn to a cracking-up Breezy and say, "2nd prophetic statement of the day!" That was enough for us. We grabbed some dinner and some shade. Unfortunately, dinner and shade prevented us from seeing the Wrens. I did catch a song or two -- and they sounded terrific -- so I'll probably have to pick up a disc sometime. It's got to be better than "Ba-Ba-Ba-Ba-Ba-Ba . . . China!" For Christ's sake.
Les Savy Fav
There was an odd, expectant air by the stage before Les Savy Fav came on. I'd never heard of them. Suddenly, some big, bearded guy (Tim Harrington) came out onstage with a tight, red T-shirt that did nothing to hide his gut. The shirt said, "carpe diem". He did. During the first song, his shirt was off. He was washing himself with sponges and throwing them into the crowd. He covered his head in tin foil. He sang through the tin foil roll. He brought out and used a slip 'n' slide. He got the entire crowd to crouch down on the ground (except for two losers who somebody hit with a bottle of water). I don't remember when, but at some point, his shorts came off to reveal a black thong. Oh, boy. Just the memory of it . . . wow. Then the police got involved, saying that they would shut the festival down because it was getting too rowdy. Eventually, Breezy turned to me and said, "I think he just crossed the line from Michael Jackson crotch-grab to full-on masturbation." That was about the time we departed for the other stage.
How was the music? The lyrics, when intelligible, sounded clever. But the bass completely muted the guitar. It's as if the sound guy stepped out for a cold one and never came back. It's a shame, because we were essentially just listening to bass and drums and watching a fat guy scream and get naked. But it's something I won't forget.
The Decemberists
It was before the Decemberists took the stage that we heard the third prophetic statement made. It was by the "introduction guy" -- some yahoo associated with the festival who did all the band introductions. After thanking all the other bands, he went on some big rant about how, "In 2004, we all suffered a major loss in November." Right away -- even at a predominantly liberal extravaganza in a liberal city -- the crowd was pissed. People started booing and yapping. But he went on, talking about the festival's values: "We are . . . the INtonation. We must go out and repair the REST of the nation." I've heard crap like this time and time again, but I didn't expect to hear it from some 50-something guy in a Panama hat. When will these people understand that music doesn't save the world or change politics? "We are the INtonation. We exist OUTSIDE the nation. But together, we can change the nation. And that's what we're here to do today, folks. Intonation!" Actually, we were there for the music. But hey -- that's just me!
The music did eventually start. And the Decemberists were terrific. Very . . . ocean-based, sea-faring, lyrics. Traditional. Lot of acoustic guitar, organ and violin. Great backing vocals. Electric guitarist (Chris Funk) was spot on. Singer (Colin Meloy) had the audience from note one. Long set, large crowd. A thoughtful record exec should find a way to market this band.
So that was that. Hit and miss, but the hits made it all worthwhile and the misses added only comedy. As the Hold Steady put it, "If she says we partied, then I'm pretty sure we partied. I really don't remember. I remember we departed from our bodies."
As the Modest Mouse says, Well, well, well, well, well, well, well, well, here we go:
Working on "Breezy Time", we arrived slightly late, missing the first act, but that was OK because there were many acts to go. It was a hot day -- sunny and low- to mid-90s. When we got into the park where this thing was held, I saw a large field in the center; it was empty. But to the edges -- where there were some trees, tents, and thus, shade -- sat crowds of water-swilling people. Right away, we knew it was going to be a warm one.
The set-up was key, with two stages. As soon as one band finished, the other stage started with the next band. This kept the music going nearly constantly and prevented overcrowding around the stage.
Dungen
We caught their set half-way through, and they were great. Could have played an hour more. Guitarist was accomplished and gave the sound a nice lead against the bass, which was high, but not over-dominating in the mix. The lead singer played the flute, which was neat because he didn't do it in the regular, prog-rock manner of flute-playing. It worked. Fit right in there. I can tell this is a bit of a jam band, and at some point in time I'll pick up a record. Their last song ended kind of strangely because the guitar wouldn't stay in tune so the guitarist got pissed and unplugged. He tried a new one, but it was too late. Odd because I liked the fucked-up sound, even knowing it wasn't what he wanted. Sounded good.
Xiu Xiu
Didn't really see this band. We were hungry, so grabbed some Polish sausage and brew and sat down to listed. Sounded like they had technical difficulties and never really got going. I've since heard great things about this band, but honestly, the Polish was much more memorable.
Out Hud
After the mess of the Xiu Xiu set, we decided to hit up the CD tents. I scored an awesome $1.00 CD by a disbanded band called Olo. Otherwise, I paged through old vinyl and found the stupidest product of all time: on a hot summer day, some idiot was selling forearm-warmers. I looked at her, but I could not find the words.
When we wandered over to Out Hud, we were immediately blown away by the amount of bad white-guy dancing going on. Holy crap. In fact, there seemed to be an awful lot more dancing than actual music being played. I think there was a guy at a keyboard and a bassist in the back; those two seemed to be doing all the work. But the nutjob up front and his two women just kind of grooved around the stage. The nutjob (Nic Offer) really stole the show -- you really had to witness the dancing; words really do it no justice -- and at the end of the set, he told the crowd: "So, like, have a great day, man. Like, fuckin-A." I turned to Breezy and said, "The first prophetic quotation of the afternoon."
Because we enjoyed Dungen's set so much, we decided to check out their guitarist in the DJ booth that was set up. It was a small tent, fairly cool, so I thought we scored pretty well by getting front-row spots. After a wait, and a short introduction, the guitarist and singer walked onstage. I thought for sure we'd hear some of their new album . . . but they just started playing instrumental music. After a while, one of them would put his beer down and adjust the pitch or tone. And the music just kind of droned on. Meanwhile, these two started occasionally rocking out to each other . . . while everyone stood there and watched. Then the rocking out would stop and they'd make an adjustment. Then they sat on the floor and sipped their beers, listening. Here's the weird thing: at no point did they look at, speak to, or acknowledge the crowd. It was like we weren't there. When Breezy said, "So, you know who else is onstage?" he didn't have to ask twice.
The Hold Steady
So we caught the last half of The Hold Steady's set. I really like the band, and I really like the lyrics -- very funny and direct. But the lead singer (Craig Finn) . . . doesn't sing. He just speaks. I've heard more about this band than any other at the festival, so I think if any band hits the mainstream, it'll be this one. But the guy doesn't sing. He just speaks. It's interesting for a while. And like I stated -- the lyrics are terrific. But I kept wanting him to get to the chorus with some singing. Didn't happen. At some point, I'll break down and buy an album.
Andrew Bird
Directly after The Hold Steady, we got a good spot for Andrew Bird, who I've heard of, but never heard. The day was roiling hot at this point, but the music made up for it. Bird is a "looper", and a damn good one, moving from violin to guitar to whistling (which is a good novelty he maybe overuses at times). He had the best drummer of the day with him, which helped matters. Kevin O'Donnell worked from a small, jazz set that perfectly fit the music. Bird's a good writer, even if he falls into the "idealistic leftist" pile. Not much fucking around here, either. He started early and gave much more music than could be expected for the weather.
Deerhoof
During Bird's set, I could feel the heat sapping me. I made it through 24 oz of water and still felt dry. [Side note: during the whole day, full of several beers and many, many oz's of water, I didn't go once. Not until 10:15 PM did I hit the port-o-let, and that was just because I thought "What the hell?" And I drank a ton of water, I just sweat it all out. Now someone's saying to someone else: "I just read some guy's blog where he talks about how he only peed once all day." Which is what I've always wanted to do with this website.] Back to our story. During and after the Bird set, I heard people talking about the upcoming Deerhoof set: "Oh, I can't wait to see Deerhoof." "Oh, I can't believe Deerhoof is here. They're amazing." And, folks, that's all the motivation I needed. Fuck the heat exhaustion, I thought. Let's just screw it and go see this great band called Deerhoof.
When they got onstage, they started jamming. Sounded OK. I liked the bassist and guitarist. Drummer was terrible. All arms, schizoid, as if he hits the skins randomly. But the music seemed very . . . stop and start. I'm not somebody who needs a set, traditional melody, but this was just annoying because I knew the guitarist and bassist could play. But all potential came to a halt because then the lead singer started "singing": "Ba-Ba-Ba-Ba-Ba-Ba . . . China!" Band plays again, thrashing, hard music, then: "Ba-Ba-Ba-Ba-Ba-Ba . . . bamboo!" More thrashing, banging, then: "Ba-Ba-Ba-Ba-Ba-Ba . . . chicken!"
I turn to a cracking-up Breezy and say, "2nd prophetic statement of the day!" That was enough for us. We grabbed some dinner and some shade. Unfortunately, dinner and shade prevented us from seeing the Wrens. I did catch a song or two -- and they sounded terrific -- so I'll probably have to pick up a disc sometime. It's got to be better than "Ba-Ba-Ba-Ba-Ba-Ba . . . China!" For Christ's sake.
Les Savy Fav
There was an odd, expectant air by the stage before Les Savy Fav came on. I'd never heard of them. Suddenly, some big, bearded guy (Tim Harrington) came out onstage with a tight, red T-shirt that did nothing to hide his gut. The shirt said, "carpe diem". He did. During the first song, his shirt was off. He was washing himself with sponges and throwing them into the crowd. He covered his head in tin foil. He sang through the tin foil roll. He brought out and used a slip 'n' slide. He got the entire crowd to crouch down on the ground (except for two losers who somebody hit with a bottle of water). I don't remember when, but at some point, his shorts came off to reveal a black thong. Oh, boy. Just the memory of it . . . wow. Then the police got involved, saying that they would shut the festival down because it was getting too rowdy. Eventually, Breezy turned to me and said, "I think he just crossed the line from Michael Jackson crotch-grab to full-on masturbation." That was about the time we departed for the other stage.
How was the music? The lyrics, when intelligible, sounded clever. But the bass completely muted the guitar. It's as if the sound guy stepped out for a cold one and never came back. It's a shame, because we were essentially just listening to bass and drums and watching a fat guy scream and get naked. But it's something I won't forget.
The Decemberists
It was before the Decemberists took the stage that we heard the third prophetic statement made. It was by the "introduction guy" -- some yahoo associated with the festival who did all the band introductions. After thanking all the other bands, he went on some big rant about how, "In 2004, we all suffered a major loss in November." Right away -- even at a predominantly liberal extravaganza in a liberal city -- the crowd was pissed. People started booing and yapping. But he went on, talking about the festival's values: "We are . . . the INtonation. We must go out and repair the REST of the nation." I've heard crap like this time and time again, but I didn't expect to hear it from some 50-something guy in a Panama hat. When will these people understand that music doesn't save the world or change politics? "We are the INtonation. We exist OUTSIDE the nation. But together, we can change the nation. And that's what we're here to do today, folks. Intonation!" Actually, we were there for the music. But hey -- that's just me!
The music did eventually start. And the Decemberists were terrific. Very . . . ocean-based, sea-faring, lyrics. Traditional. Lot of acoustic guitar, organ and violin. Great backing vocals. Electric guitarist (Chris Funk) was spot on. Singer (Colin Meloy) had the audience from note one. Long set, large crowd. A thoughtful record exec should find a way to market this band.
So that was that. Hit and miss, but the hits made it all worthwhile and the misses added only comedy. As the Hold Steady put it, "If she says we partied, then I'm pretty sure we partied. I really don't remember. I remember we departed from our bodies."
