Seattle Subsonic

CHBP: Friday Impressions

July 26th, 2009

As if drawn by tractor beam, my weekend was spent on Pike St. between 12th and Broadway. Happy, hot, drunk, and drenched is about as good of a four word nutshell as I can offer. The grounds layout was much improved (and appreciated), as the beer garden doubled in size and the Main Stage moved west to flank Broadway. The sightlines, however, disappeared during the headliners. During the day, the gawk-worthy crowd was easily navigable, but come nightfall rabid music fans seemed to sprout improbably and continuously from the pavement. Ubiquitous show-goer trends included boat shoes, pretty dresses, tank tops, jorts, and, of course, a thousand varieties of Ray-Bans. Marination Mobile had me reeling with their preposterously delicious Kalua pork sliders and mouthwatering tofu tacos. The weather was blazing, but it didn’t seem to stifle as maybe your local meteorologist might have predicted. It was still pretty hot, no doubt, but spots of shade, tasty beverages, and various indoor amenities quelled the effect.

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On Friday, I arrived at the Block Party just in time for the Dutchess and the Duke’s sunny Main Stage set. As I had hoped, a bassist was brought along and the pair ditched their acoustics entirely to amplify their usually low-fidelity approach. I heard a few new tunes that pleased my ears and “Armageddon Song” perfectly capped the performance, it’s obliviously gleeful refrain “As long as the sun keeps shining on the pines / Shining on the sea / And shining on me!” more than befitting of a Pac NW afternoon in July.

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The Vera Stage was easily the dark horse of the festival, and the first band we made a move for was the hotly anticipated Flexions (pronounced ‘Fleck-shuns’, btw). The bass-propelled and guitar-driven grooves were menacing and nimble, as the duo of Devin Welch and Robin Stein displayed a quiet mastery of their respective instruments. A tropically-flavored cut featuring a steel drum undercurrent was the lone song to buck the trend. Welch continued his own trend of slithering foot-moves while performing. Three-quarters of the songs were instrumental, but when the two combined on vocals one couldn’t help but think of Warsaw-era Joy Division. Their chants were flat and militant and prevented the entire set from slinking into the film soundtrack of an eccentric auteur. More attention will be paid.

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We headed back over to the mainstage to quench our thirst in the beer garden, grabbing a curb while inadvertently ingesting the mostly mundane radio rock of Spinnerette. The unfortunately-named single (“Ghetto Love”) that closed their set is a good head-bobber, but the rest of it was simply loud and bland. Next up was the Black Lips, whose lecherous reputation has rode through the music world like Paul Revere through Lexington. I was banking on some crazy antics surrounded by ramshackle garage rock, but the dudes were pretty tame, save for a Maker’s Mark-brandishing cameo during Deerhunter’s set later on. Though I haven’t heard the whole thing, my impression is that the latest record isn’t on par with Good Bad Not Evil, so “O Katrina” and “Cold Hands” were the only songs I sang along to. Oh well, they still pulled off a loud, proud and hip-shakin’ set. At least, such was the portion that I saw.

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Hindered a bit by a tight schedule between 6 and 8pm, we quickly shuffled over to the Vera Stage just in time for Micachu & the Shapes. Easily one the Top 3 artists I was excited for, 21-year-old Mica Levi and her two percussionist cohorts exhibited a musical grasp and artistic poise beyond their years. Levi mostly plays—and augments her name with—a “chu”, a small modified guitar that often sounds out of tune or broken. It not only works, it flourishes. Combining erratic drum beats, Casio keyboards and homemade instruments (empty wine bottles on this day), the trio’s innovative approach to pop, rock and R&B has turned conventionality on its head without sacrificing melody or appeal. She played her electric axe quite a bit, as well. Check out this exuberant version of “Curly Teeth” I videotaped (videodigitized?).

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Given that I’m Deerhunter’s self-proclaimed #1 Fan, it was imperative to be well lubricated and at least somewhat close to the Main Stage for their set. I was. I could lay it on thick and stick to just saying how beautiful and awesome they sounded—they did. But this truth must be tempered with the fact that gear issues hamstrung the band initially, followed by Bradford Cox forgetting the words to “Operation”. That last one’s not really a big deal, but as it wore on, the whole set felt a bit…(ugh, I hate writing this)…obligatory. I’m pretty sure bassist Josh Fauver was stoned out of his gourd. For their supremely awesome Neumos show last fall, guitarist Whitney Penny—absent—provided much of the bubbly crowd interaction possibly missing this time around. I dunno; in the end I was happy, just not ecstatic like I was expecting. <sigh>

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Starfucker was an undeniable highlight of the day.The sun now gone, their LASER-like space pop lit up the pogo-ing crowd, as the (now) foursome wove in both new and “old” cuts. The bouncier tracks from Jupiter dominated the second half of the set (“Medicine”, “Dance Face 2000″, “Biggie Smalls”) and the dress-clad boys exultingly injected the crowd with a highly addictive neon dance drug. Lauper cover “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” was played, of course, and Ryan Biornstad ended the performance with one of his patented one-man-dance spastic freakouts.

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I tell ya, the Jesus Lizard sounded tight and growly and corrosive. Ageless Wonder David Yow was crowd surfing on the first song and made several abrasively funny comments. My limited visibility kinda sucked, but I was satisfied.

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Lots more crappy pics here.