Awesome Fest 2 (Night One)
April 18th in Point Arena

Admit it: It’s tough going, but the idea is so palpable, so ripe with potential, that to an adventurous fan it’s hard to ignore. Hop in a (rental) car after a long week of work (or school) and drive three hours north to see a bill of some of the best bands the Bay Area has to offer. Rock the tiny seaside town of Point Arena from the stage of an old-timey movie theater. Camp out in the woods. Get down with weird, old hippies. They love it, right? This idea of a festival: A Promethean light bringing youthful culture to the serene dark of the northern coast, where only lighthouses and stars dutifully shine.

For the organizer, Nate Hooper, Awesome Fest probably hinged on some version of this fantasy. It was good to see that, in this era that craves immediate gratification, at least a small host of people cared enough to forgo convenience for the sake of an experience such as Awesome Fest. But as much as the location of the venue, or the winding mountain/seaside roads that led there, weeded out all but the most intrepid of fans, then the lack of adequate promotion similarly limited attendance. Moreover, those who made it looked so exhausted from their trek that the majority of them sat in their seats for most of the evening. While the first night of the festival offered a lot of musical talent and DIY flair, its idyllic setting took a toll of diligence on the part of bands and festival-goers alike.

Failed brakes on their van nearly spoiled the evening for the Morning Benders, who returned to Awesome Fest for a second year. But despite nearly careening off the side of a mountain, the Morning Benders sounded expertly composed. Of all the performances, theirs was the most polished. Their suspiciously nostalgic, catchy tunes culled only good vibrations from their Phil Spector influences. Supplemented with a youthful charm, thus far unspoiled by touring hazards (it is only recently that the Oakland-based quartet has begun touring outside California), the Morning Benders looked green, but sounded golden.

Unfortunately, good sound appeared to be at a premium in Point Arena. Following the Morning Benders’ set, the theater staff struggled for over 40 minutes to appropriately mic Port O’Brien frontman Van Pierszalowski’s acoustic guitar. Pierszalowski ultimately decided to play electric, but not before a dose of feedback from a drum microphone caused his frustrations to boil over into a brief quarrel with the enigmatic man in the sound booth.

Fortunately, Port O’Brien’s set was more than worth the wait. Pierszalowski appeared to channel his frustrations into his performance, thrashing about and growling into his microphone with a steely-eyed intensity uncharacteristic of a folk-rock band. But Port O’Brien is far from typical to begin with. The group, centered on Pierszalowski and partner Cambria Goodwin, resembles more a family of errant minstrels than a rock band. In order to pad their touring budget, the band retreats yearly to coastal Alaska during the summer months to work lucrative seasonal jobs in salmon canneries and on fishing boats. Their live show held similarly familial affectations, the most prominent of which is their practice of soliciting audience participation. In addition to their performer-cued sing-alongs, the band invited the whole of the audience on stage for their final number, the rustically cathartic “I Woke Up Today.” Audience members accompanied the band on a plethora of pots, pans, and tambourines that the band distributed from an old chest that hitherto lay unassumingly at stage right. Percussive bliss ensued.

Rather than invite the crowd up on stage, Thee Oh Sees decided to play from within the crowd itself. They set up on the floor of the theater, playing directly from their amps, circumventing any sound issues (the band does not regularly do sound checks), and strategically placing themselves within striking distance of the crowd. Their visceral rock sound simultaneously celebrated the primitive and the experimental, crashing rhythms ensconced in a shell of billowing reverb, pierced by the impish vocal harmonies of John Dwyer and Brigid Dawson. From the snarling crunch of “Block of Ice” to the torn-speaker wake of “Quadrospazzed”, their late set forged a cathartic connection between the crowd and the artists that glaringly exhibited the potential for greatness inherent in an endeavor such as Awesome Fest. At the height of their performance, not a single person remained seated.

For the intrepid handful that stuck it out, the festival experience might have been truly awesome. But distance and lack of promotion tied the hands of the festival’s potential. The idea of Awesome Fest was great, and the bands played their hearts out, but the logistics—based on night one—needed work.

*Sincerest apologies to Girls: We did not make it in time for your set, but the last song you played sounded really good. – Andres Jauregui

Watch: Awesome Fest Two documentary [at youtube.com]

Handsome Furs
April 15th at Bottom of the Hill

Handsome Furs made one of those albums last year that grew on me and grew on me until it eventually found its way into my Top 10 of 2007 list (number eight, to be exact.) Plague Park is the Handsome Furs’ lone record release, and it’s a lo-fi effort of synth-rock, one written by Dan Boeckner of Wolf Parade and his wife, Alexi. The album has a lot to say about unrest within your surroundings and at times bitterly (but not without an animated edge) discusses the damage we, as humans, wreak on the world. Despite being so synth-heavy, it is not dated in the least and in fact sounds quite unique. I was very curious as to how the Handsome Furs’ sound would translate to the stage, and nearly expected them to have a laptop set up or maybe even a backing musician or two. The Handsome Furs live consist of just Mr. and Mrs. Boeckner, and their greatest strength is the incredible onstage energy they execute together. Truly, this couple perfectly complements each other musically; they were much fun to watch, as they guzzled some sweet-looking vodka drinks and Alexi twisted herself into weird positions and climbed around her synthesizer whilst stomping along to the beat in her bare feet as Dan flailed away on his guitar. Members of the opening band, a local, young art-rock collective (lots of underage stamps on wrists) called Railcars joined them onstage for some hand percussion, which Handsome Furs initially seemed a little confused by, but they went with it. All in all, one of the highlights of all the shows I’ve been exposed to during this long winter, and I would gladly, excitedly, make my way across town to see them again any day of the week. – Angela Zimmerman

Watch: “Radio’s Hot Sun” [at youtube.com]

Norfolk & Western, Weinland
April 20th at Café du Nord

I make a point of never missing a Norfolk & Western show. The Portland mainstays never disappoint with their brand of distinctly American (if not Pacific Northwestern) rock, and their rock gamut has recently grown in some surprisingly raucous directions. Shows past were typically strewn in a whispery, cinematic gauze of supple, electric noise, somnolent atmospherics, and the occasional string or horn, though there was no such sedation at du Nord this past Sunday. Their past couple albums, while retaining the band’s dust-blown homesteading folk foundation, have taken considerable strides out into the light; strides that, on stage, reveal themselves as more like axe-flailing jump kicks, even if in a sort of modest, Oregonian way. It was by far the most face-melting, barn-burning Norfolk set I’ve ever seen, complete with boot-stompin’ guitar hooks and dextrose, noisy, incendiary solos. Reverberating outwards with subtle nods at once toward Neil Young and Yo La Tengo, Norfolk rocks righteously within its own original space, like the awakening of a formerly-pacified giant. Pleasant surprise of the evening: A kickass cover of “What Goes On.” Earlier, Weinland set the stage decently with an opening round rich in many-layered vox harmonies and big electric folk-rock that I was surprised wasn’t the most rockin’ part of the evening. They coolly touted the virtues of their own branded coffee, which they sold at the merch table, an experimental joint venture involving the fine Portland band, a high quality bean, and a roasting process that includes misting with Makers Mark whiskey during the cooling phase. Sounds like a boss cup o’ joe, which Weinland did well to support with their warm and bold live set. The shilling was kept down to a tasteful degree, and there was mention of some charitable direction for a portion of the proceeds, so overall, that’s not too shabby a racket they got going there. – Howard Wyman

Listen: Various Tracks [at myspace.com]

Moe! Staiano
April 23rd at Artists’ Television Access

“Dada percussionist” Moe! Staiano revels in the musical uses, and sometimes destruction, of found objects, tools, and instruments. His piece “Death of a Piano No. 1”, which was composed for the Moe!kestra!, includes visual notation for the destruction of a real piano (the piece has been performed only six times). On this evening, Moe!’s performance consisted of three movements: 1. He dragged a floor-tom, filled with some sort of nick-nacks, across the floor in different directions, eliciting sound from the rubber-sheathed feet of the drum, as well as the rattle from within; he then left the drum stationary while playing it, and things that he threw at it, as well as a baseball bat. 2. After creating a wall of white noise with vibrators that were placed inside of cymbals strewn about the floor, he took a roll of saran-wrap, and, while one audience member held the end, ran through the performance space, stretching the wrap from the exterior of the building all the way up a flight of stairs backstage. 3. In an especially overt nod to Dadaist Marcel Duchamp, Moe! stood on a bicycle rim while attacking it with sticks; the amount of pressure he applied to the rim changed its pitch. There may have been another movement planned—a car buffer was briefly brandished—but a power outlet was not forthcoming. Saxophonist Bruce Ackley and drummer Weasel Walter headlined the show with a new noise-jazz quartet; and Murder Murder nearly blew the roof off with quartet composed of two drummers, one piercingly-high pitched keyboard, and a woodwind-and-saxophone player/vocalist coaxing a mighty roar from his effects processors. – David MacFadden-Elliott

Listen: Various Tracks [at myspace.com]

Caribou
April 23rd at the Independent

I listen to Caribou’s latest record, Andorra, a lot. It’s one of those easy albums that is comfortably enjoyable but not without offering the occasional challenge to my ear. I wasn’t too sure how this would translate to the stage, because Caribou is a one-man electronic act by the name of Daniel Snaith—I envisioned him maneuvering between laptops and pedals and maybe even a turntable. But alas, with Caribou came a three-piece band that stood behind duel drumkits set up in front of the stage. All accompanying musicians were more than adequate, but obviously this is Caribou’s show, and indeed the band was mainly a vehicle for Snaith to showcase his all-encompassing musicianship. Beside vocals, Caribou played drums (sometimes fully in sync with the other drummer, which, though impressive, seemed a little gratuitous to me), xylophone, recorder, keyboard, and guitar, and for such layered arrangements, the levels were a little off at the venue, everything getting flooded by the rhythm section with the vocals getting completely swamped at times. The spaced-out, drum-centric jams lulled me throughout the night, drawing my attention with their gentle, melodic hooks, but became a bit tiresome toward the end, not at all enhanced by half-assed backdrop projections that were lit up behind the band. I was ready for it to be over, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy my evening. I think I just prefer my Caribou on record. – AZ

Listen: Various Tracks [at myspace.com]

Crash Normal
April 25th at the Hemlock Tavern

First, a note: Sic Alps were scheduled to headline this show, but unfortunately drummer Matt Hartman (former drummer of the Coachwhips, and erstwhile member of Murder Murder, who blew my ears out last week) broke his wrist in a bicycling accident, and the band has postponed their tour until July. We wish them a speedy return to the road.

Thankfully, Crash Normal (France) brought more than enough rock to sate the hungry Friday night crowd. Their set-up was minimal: Two guitarists with microphones and a guitar-loop processor that had been fed a fistful of breakbeats and become designated drummer. Guitarist/art teacher Jerome Normal spoke about their use of the pedal after the show, “You know, many guitarists use it to play something, and they make a loop and you play something on it and you play something on it—it’s kind of stupid.” That explains his preference for using it as a drum-sampler.

Crash Normal’s rigid dynamic was parlayed into gritty garage-rock with occasional surf hooks and ever-present drums that really shook the crowd, despite their being loops. Their ’06 album, My First Stop, was reportedly “recorded in one night” with the illustrious French indie-producer—and Jerome Normal’s brother—Phil Scrotum. It is available on 12-inch wax from Rococo Records in Chicago. But it’s limited to 500 copies (and I got number 294). – DM

Listen: Various Tracks [at myspace.com]