Capitol Hill Block Party, Part 2

DAY 2

Hey Marseilles

I started off my second day at the Block Party by catching a few songs from Hey Marseilles, a local band who featured a cello, violin and accordion player. They had a bit of a Decemberists-lite vibe going on. If that’s not glowing praise, I don’t know what is…

The Moondoggies

After a short ice cream break, I returned to the main stage to catch a chunk of the Moondoggies set. They played some solid country rock, with some good ol’ southern, religiously bluesy overtones. While nothing grabbed my immediate attention, it was nice to hear some electric guitar after the instrumental excess of Hey Marseilles.

The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart

The Pains were the first band on Saturday that I was really excited to hear. Their self-titled debut album this year has held its spot in my 2009 Favorites valiantly and I was very curious to hear how their sunny, exuberant indie rock held up in a live, festival setting. The answer: awesomely! The five-piece band rolled through a confident set, while their palpable charm and general adorableness spilled off the stage. Singer Kip Berman opened the set by dedicating the first song to his mom, who was in attendance, and keyboardist Peggy Wang gave a shout out to an old friend later in the show, talking about their former band, who were apparently named Turtle Search. Adorable, I tell you.

But things would get even better! After the Pains’ set ended, my friends and I retreated to a local sandwich place for dinner. To our general amazement, ten minutes after sitting down, four-fifths of the Pains walked through the door and ended up getting seated right next to us. We complimented their set, to which they responded in the most humble, “aww, shucks, that’s nice, guys!” kind of way. I’d like to say we all pulled up tables and shared sandwiches together, but that wouldn’t exactly be true. Instead, I’ll just savor the fact that I (more-or-less) ate dinner with the Pains Of Being Pure At Heart.

The Thermals

The Thermals are a poppy punk band from Portland who I’ve seen several times before. They’ve always put on a good show, although I’ve never left one of their shows feeling like my life has been changed. However, their set at the Block Party this year was the strongest I’ve ever seen them and I’m very glad I didn’t skip them. Part of the difference was their new drummer Westin Glass, whose role in the band didn’t seem limited to just rhythm, since he also seemed to be their unofficial cheerleader and hype man, guiding clap-alongs with the audience and generally looking like the happiest person on Earth. Meanwhile, frontman Hutch Harris tore through the band’s catalogue with gusto, raining power chords down upon the pogo-ing masses while the clouds above threatened to actually rain on us. Unexpected covers were mixed into the setlist, including Nirvana b-side “Verse Chorus Verse” and, inexplicably, Green Day’s classic “Basket Case”. The highest point of their show was the title track from their latest album, Now We Can See, which I correctly predicted would be absolutely killer live. Wordless choruses are awesome. “Ohhhh ahhh oh oh! Ohhhh ahh oh oh! Ohhhh ah ohhhh ohhhh!”

Gossip

The Gossip chunk of the evening’s festivities ranks as one of the most fun experiences I’ve ever had with live music. I’ve never liked Gossip’s songs on record, since they sound fairly mechanical and thin to my ears, but live, they are transformed into dominating, stomping dance anthems. After the punk pogo-ing of the Thermals, this honest-to-God dance music was the perfect reason for hundreds of Seattle hipsters to just start boogieing away. Guitarist Brace Paine (what a name…) played vicious, meaty New Wave riffs and drummer Hannah Blilie was nothing short of unstoppable. Of course, singer Beth Ditto was incredible, switching from downbeat romantic blues to passionate, indignant rage at a moment’s notice. I still can’t really listen to their studio material, but holy fucking shit can Gossip put on one hell of a live show.

Sonic Youth

In past years, the Capitol Hill Block Party could have only dreamed to have headliners as prominent as Sonic Youth. For whatever reason, things changed this year and this legendary, important band was there Saturday night, playing in the middle of a street in Seattle to a delirious crowd of Seattleites who spent most of the evening waiting not-that-patiently for Sonic Youth to take the stage. When they finally marched out a bit after 10:30, the place almost erupted. A few words were exchanged, the front lineup of Lee Ranaldo, Thurston Moore and Kim Gordon (officially the most attractive fifty-six-year old woman on the planet) took their places and the band launched into “No Way” off their recent album, The Eternal.

Nothing can prepare you for how loud Sonic Youth are live. Words can barely describe it. All I can say is, while the songs on their records rock, when played live, they drop on you like the world is falling down around you. Listening to Sonic Youth live means you’re desperately trying to hold your ground against a hurricane of noise (and force, from the drums and bass). Yet, somewhere in there, you can hear beautiful melodies that you remember from their records. They played a set heavily drawn from The Eternal, pausing only to add two gems from 1988’s Daydream Nation in the form of Ranaldo’s “Hey Joni” and closing with “’Cross The Breeze”. The new songs more than held their own with these old classics, though, especially “Anti-Orgasm”, which was transformed live into a fiery torrent of crunching sound, pushing the limits of what human ears can tolerate. A brief encore featured the new song “What We Know” and, incredibly, an ancient gem in the form of “Death Valley ‘69”, which was greeted by howling approval from the assembled masses.

However, my real story of the Sonic Youth show is one of survival. The crowd, whipped into a frenzy by the noise and songs, literally almost knocked over walls. I had decided early on to watch the show from a vantage point next to the barricade fence to the side of the block. However, the surges of movement and momentum of the crowd proved so strong that I, along with everyone near me, was pushed back against the fence so hard that the whole thing threatened to buckle and collapse. Security was eventually forced to drive a delivery truck alongside the other side of the fence to reinforce everything and keep the crowd from spilling out into the night. Trying to stand between all these opposing forces was a very intense, not-always-enjoyable experience for me. However, I must say I had the perfect soundtrack. The waves of static and noise and riffage coming off the stage are something I won’t soon forget.

Capitol Hill Block Party, Part 1

I’ve wanted to have concert reviews on this blog from the very first day. However, for all sorts of reasons, up until this weekend, I hadn’t seen any live music since last August. That all changed when I attended both days of Seattle’s annual Capitol Hill Block Party, which is essentially the best neighborhood music festival ever. Dozens of bands play across three stages over the course of the weekend. This year’s lineup was amazingly strong and I saw more than my money’s worth over these past two days. Here’s my day-by-day recap of who and what I saw.

DAY 1

Black Lips

Black Lips are a band from Atlanta that take all kinds of musical odds and ends (surf guitar riffs, country twang, doo-wop harmonies, etc) and wring them through a gauntlet of sweaty, messy garage rock. They write simple, catchy songs with lyrics that are built for singing/screaming along. Unfortunately for me, I know a grand total of one of their songs, which left me desperately trying to understand what the hell they were saying throughout the rest of their set. Seeing Black Lips without being able to participate in their general shenanigans is a frustrating experience, leaving you feeling lost in some large inside joke. Their set also suffered from an irritatingly static audience.

Deerhunter

Another Atlanta act, Deerhunter were the biggest question mark for me during both days of the Block Party. I’ve never been much of a fan of their recorded material, since I find their songs either grating or annoyingly ethereal. I had no real idea of what to expect from the band live. However, I was pleasantly surprised when they turned in a short set of very strong performances that left me wanting at least another half-hour of music out of them. Despite a slew of technical issues beyond their control (mics failing, guitars spluttering uncontrollably), the band came across as very charming and fun, all while playing solid, memorable, shoegazey rock. Singer Bradford Cox was a bottomless fountain of entertaining stage banter (during a mic problem: “We’re only human, so we use small electrical devices to enhance our sound. I think you know what I’m talking about…ladies…”), while bassist Josh Fauver had the most hilariously blissed-out expression on his face for the entire set. The only strange part of their performance was guitarist Lockett Pundt, who seemed relegated to the side of the stage, like the unloved younger brother that’s somebody’s parents insisted the other band members take care of on the road. His creepy mustache didn’t help matters much either.

Built To Spill

Built To Spill are probably the most beloved band to ever come out of Idaho. That said, I’m not one of those people who adore them. Led by the intensely bearded Doug Martsch, they play overlong, noisy guitar jams, perfect for people who like their music conducive to hazy, stoned atmospheres. As someone who’s not a huge fan of A) guitar solos and B) drugs, it should come as no surprise when I say I’m not a Built To Spill fan. So, during the hour the band played, I ended up entertaining myself observing my fellow concertgoers. For one thing, the number of beards around me increased eight-fold before they started playing. Many people seemed to be having religious epiphanies while the band was playing, as they were quaking in place and muttering things that didn’t closely resemble the lyrics to the songs. Just to drive all the clichés home, there was the token wavy haired blonde in the front row, wearing some diaphanous, midriff-exposing shirt and doing really stupid twirly dances. All these people were clearly communing with the band on a level I will never understand. I’m not sure if I’m all that disappointed. However, the band seemed to get the last laugh on all these people by ending their set with a cataclysmic rendition of “Carry The Zero”, which dissolved into roughly ten minutes of excruciating noise, which brought all but the most dedicated, hardcore Built To Spill fans to a silent stop. It was an oddly fitting transition to what was coming next.

The Jesus Lizard

Two days later, I’m still having trouble comprehending that I saw the Jesus Lizard. Here’s a band that has only recently starting touring again after being broken up for ten years. Their frontman, David Yow, also has a (well-deserved) reputation for being an absolute nutjob during live performances, which has led to him being banned from various venues, including a few in Seattle. So, imagine my excitement when the band took the stage late Friday evening and immediately blasted into a caustic version of “Puss”. Barely a minute into the set, Yow took the first of his many stage dives of the evening, landing on top of the crowd about five feet to my left. This is where shit started to get really intense. At most concerts with wild pits, everyone is just sort of moving in whatever direction presents itself. However, Yow’s stage diving ending up giving everyone in the crowd a place to try to get to: Yow himself. This left people in the middle of the crowd, like myself, feeling completely assaulted from every direction as rabid Jesus Lizard fans tried to touch their idol. Four songs into the set, I essentially couldn’t breathe from the combination of smoke and crushing bodies and wisely decided to sideline myself for the rest of the set.

From that vantage point, I could appreciate just how sharp the Jesus Lizard sounded, even after all these years. While Yow is a slobbering, screaming, stage-diving maniac, the rest of the band plays with absolutely stunning precision. Duane Denison has a bottomless bag of gritty guitar riffs to choose from, which he wields like a scalpel. Old(er) age has also treated him quite nicely, as he was rocking some very classy grey hair. On the other side of the stage, David Wm. Sims, one of my foremost bass-playing idols, churned out the bands grinding basslines. Finally, drummer Mac McNeilly, finally back with the band after leaving in 1997, proved that he’s the absolute lynchpin to the band’s sound, as his heavy, solid rhythms propelled the rest of the band forward. All three barely interacted with the audience, leaving Yow to be the focal point for the evening. This combination of controlled aggression from the band and yammering insanity from Yow impressed upon me what an incredible band the Jesus Lizard are and how much better the world is now that they’re playing together again.