Photography by Stacey Fuller
Haiku by Andy Cohn

john rocks the beacon
Guitar face in full effect
Had his own napkins

Words and Photography by Kyle Rother

On an outside stage
Brazos and White Denim, too
Better bands than you.

White Denim

Photos by Ben Rowland

A big stuffed bear head
Party. Thanks Death and Taxes
Bros and little beers.

Fool’s Gold delivered.
The crowd seemed to be sleeping.
Please note: dancing good.

Fool’s Gold:

Ocote Soul:

Givers:

Awesome Tapes From Africa (aka Brian Shimkovitz):

- – -

With October hosting major music functions in its 31 days – Austin City Limits, Hardly Strictly Bluegrass, and the illustrious CMJ – San Francisco’s Treasure Island Music Festival nestles comfortably in between, boasting prestigious acts to grace the island shores as well as maintaining a crowd size that’s not overwhelming or annoying. Good weather afforded people the opportunity to dress up for the occasion and sample the special brownies the guy in the AT&T ballpark parking lot was offering.

Our highlights and lowlights included:

- Witnessing The Streets’ Mike Skinner being adorable: after he opened with “Let’s Push Things Forward,” he reminisced about his last SF experience that left him bruised— a jump off the balcony at The Fillmore. He then proclaimed to the audience below him “I’m gonna jump into the crowd and make love to you all” before punctuating his set with more words of adoration for the city by the bay.

- Missing Passion Pit as a result of waiting to take a shuttle to the island, which we also contemplated swimming to as a result of the delay. When someone started blasted “Sleepyhead” in the parking lot where we were congregating, it was met with “Yeah guys, let’s listen to the band we’re missing as we stand in line. Real smart. Idiot.”

- DJ Krush providing a most excellent soundtrack as we rode the Ferris wheel.

- Having dinner on a pirate ship.

- Girl Talk being all over the place: crowd-surfing during Dan Deacon’s set, jumping around on stage during his own, and then air pelvic thrusting timed to fireworks at the end of his dancetastic set.

- MSTRKRFT still is just two dudes with a laptop.

- MGMT playing “Oracular Spectacular” from start to finish, which is a good idea if the nostalgia factor is there. But having all your singles in the first half of your album – especially the dance-centric ones – guarantees that your audience takes off midway through your show.

- Afterparty with Dan Deacon, who is so rad I just want to hug him all the time.

It’s a strange world when your ex-love’s sister serves you liquor unexpectedly in the beer tent (why, how did you know I needed a beverage for this conversation?). But in all seriousness, at the end of the day when the guy in the penguin suit apologized to me for whacking my ear during Girl Talk’s set, I was glad to be in the company of some fun – and strange – folks. The Treasure Island Festival is fast becoming my favorite out of all the exravangaznas we have to offer, and it’s for good reason: we all just want to have a good time.

The Streets:

Girl Talk:

MSTRKRFT:

MGMT:

Afterparty with Dan Deacon:

longhair got some tunes.
crew, hirsute too, was on point
beer, gin, “don’t get cute”.

Swami, shave, junior
easy chill, take the pill, schwill
nudes, ludes, hairy old dudes

Forgotten lyrics
But unforgettable fire!
Sunday, Bloody Clash Mash

Haiku by Andy Cohn
Photos by Rob Stone

More extreme Droidage
davedavedavedavedave, we said
shameless sing-a-long.

Big, rad Bar Mitzvah
Stomach bounce, ears bleed, Black Dice
Bubbles and arcade

Sufjan Stevens

Circulatory System


Amazing dude in the lobby



Black Dice

Wayne Coyne checking out Atlas Sound

Antipop Consortium

No Age chillin

Shellac

Deerhunter


Animal Collective

Words & photos by Jenn Hernandez

The chill and the overcast came back for the last day of Outside Lands weekend, but it still didn’t stop us from buying cold lemonade and a chocolate chip cookie on our way in from some entrepreneurial eight year-olds. Hey, they figured out since they were cute, they could sell anything. Props to them.

We waddled down to see Oklahoma’s Other Lives as the first act of the day, wanting to see the outfit break out the cello and piano to accompany their dreamy folkpop. At times it truthfully felt like the notes and soft percussions were floating through the trees in the park in a mystical, sort of gorgeous eerie tangle. The weather did impact the energy of attendees in the first part of the day, but seeing the crowd at Matt & Kim later on showed that the sentiment was brushed off by then. And, I’m sure this goes without saying, but seriously: Matt & Kim are two most adorable fucking people on the face of the planet.

Exhibit one: “Ladies, there are two reasons to take off your hootchie hoops. One, when you are about to get into a fight, and two, when you are about to play drums so that your drum stick does not go through.”
- Kim on jewelry malfunctions
Exhibit two: “What the fuck, sun? What do you have better to do?”
- Matt on the weather being a bitch

The two were all super smiles and high energy from start to finish, including a rising version of “Yeah Yeah” that elicited a lot of fist pumping from the crowd, and Kim “backing that ass up” into the crowd later on in the set.

The Dead Weather’s set, as highly anticipated as it was touted as, definitely delivered in terms of precision and a whole lotta bass. Alison Mosshart is a performer in a class all her own, prowling the stage and exuding such an air of confidence mingled with sex and a lot of hair whipping, you forget that she actually has a respectable set of chops on her as well. Jack White, of course, decided to sing during the fourth song after all photographers had already left the pit, prompting a rush the front to snap him and his own hair singing.

While we hoped for a showdown between M.I.A. and Tenacious D, as the rapper expressed her distain for the duo’s last minute addition to the festival roster last week, her performance was actually one of the more disappointing ones. The energy was there but somehow still seemed to fall flat, like the translation from record to live just wasn’t smooth. After passing out plastic bull horns to the crowd to toot along to for “Bucky Done Gun” and sharing details about her experiences in San Francisco (”I got engaged here…I got pregnant here too”), she busted into a Beastie Boys tribute, playing the beginning of “Intergalatic” and “Sabotage” in homage of Beastie Adam Horowitz’s recovery from cancer and subsequent pullout of the band for Outside Lands. At one point M.I.A. did do some headbanger-worthy flips with her hair, which we instantly decided needed to be pitted against Mosshart. It could be a hair whip-off.

As the festival grounds started to turn on their night lights and Tenacious D had a Jack Black stunt double do cartwheels for him, it began to get really cold – but I will still full of admiration for what was able to been pulled off in such a short weekend.

More highlights included:
- Atmosphere’s Slug asking the “beautiful people” in the audience to shut up, and for everyone else to do the index finger salute
- new Morning Benders‘ pretty ballad “Promises” live
- using the phone charging station to give my Blackberry more juice, and being eternally grateful
- receiving an airport hug at the Hug Station, and then a touchy-feeling one (we’ll let you figure that one out)
- eating oysters for the first time (verdict: shellfish-y)
- enjoying Modest Mouse ripping through “Dashboard” on the main stage while eating a crepe
- the crunker dancer dressed in a blue suit and Michael Jackson T-shirt for M.I.A.’s set being wonderfully awkward
- being reminded that festivals, especially ones in set in as majestic of a place as Golden Gate Park, are one of the numerous reasons why I am in love with my city, and then wondering: since Jack Black and Jack White were at the same festival on the same day, did they take a picture together? Have they ever?

Other Lives

Morning Benders

Atmosphere

Matt & Kim

The Dead Weather



(Jack White photo, courtesy of Jennifer McGaffey)

M.I.A.

Tenacious D

Here’s to lucky 2010.

Words & Photography by Jenn Hernandez

The good weather continued for giddy Outside Lands second day concert-goers eager to soak in as much sun as possible while also getting their fest on. As we listened to a smooth Raphael Saadiq croon from the main stage – who started out dressed in a three-piece suit to later strip down to a rolled-up collared shirt – it was worth admiring the diversity in the crowd as well as the lineup we were about to drink in. We had metal time with Mastadon, the most magical five minutes with Bat For Lashes, and rumpshaking with TV On The Radio courtesy of Tunde Adebimpe’s hips, all in the course of one day.

The big news of the night, however, happened at 7:40 p.m. at the Twin Peaks stage. As I got situated in the photo pit, The Mars Volta were into their second song and more or less blowing out my ear drums. My camera was in love with singer Cedric Bixler-Zavala, following him everywhere he went: handstands, spazzing and tossing the mic stand effortlessly into the air. At one point, he dived belly first onto the floor, popped back up, grinded against his mic stand, and then shuffled off to the side of the stage to drink tea out of a white mug.

Bixler-Zavala then grabbed the sign adjacent to the band that spelled out “THE MARS VOLTA” in giant capital letters, hocked it on his back, and then proceeded to kick the shit out of it, breaking it in the middle before nearly throwing everything into the crowd and grabbing another photographer’s camera in the process. All photographers were promptly bounced out of the photo pit breathless, and I was just glad to not have been caught in the crossfire. Best ten minutes of the whole weekend.

Other boring highlights included:
- find out trampolines really are as good as you remember from childhood
- the awkward hug I received at the Hug Station
- the Os Mutantes broken string incident
- TVOTR absolutely dominating “Wolf Like Me”
- Deerhunter’s Bradford Cox not knowing who else was on the festival bill with his band: “Who is Conor Oberst? Is he a singer?” (after being clued in by an audience member: “Oh, you mean Bright Eyes?”)
- eating something called a cookie pie
- nearly getting demolished in the photo pit during The Mars Volta set, but getting bomb Indian food to make up for my near-death experience

Sadly, news of DJ AM’s untimely death the day before had gripped everyone, and lots of people in lines, drinking near each other, or standing near one another in the crowds discussed the tragedy.

Raphael Saadiq

Portugal. The Man

Mastodon

Os Mutantes

TV On The Radio

Deerhunter

The Mars Volta

We came, we saw, we sweated. San Francisco Outside Lands attendees were gifted with a heat wave, sans rash, for the first day of the weekend-long festival, and never before have we seen people more confused (the natives knew this was an oddity). Also, all the indie boys who decided to take off their shirts only upped the hotness factor, considering their torsos served as a light deflector and blinded everyone in sight. Holy whiteness, Batman.

With seven stages situated on two meadows and the main polo field in Golden Gate Park, we have to say that this year’s experience toppled last year’s (you know, where I cried a bunch and then scraped my elbow), with a million tents set up for food, photobooths, prizes, massages, wine tastings, free hugs, trampolines, and even a phone charging station. And while the smaller stages boasted a very impressive knit of indie, electronica, and even hip-hop acts, the main stage line-up felt slightly too 90’s. I do own Pearl Jam’s “Ten” on cassette tape though, so maybe I’m not one to judge.

Highlights include:
- the choice people watching we were afforded as we wandered around the site
- Silversun Pickups and Los Campesinos! slaying their sets
- running around San Francisco at night with no jacket on
- remembering how much we were in love with Incubus’s Brandon Boyd in 11th grade
- Throwing blue lacey underwear at Tom Jones

Day one, you ain’t so bad.

Autolux

Akron/Family

Los Campesinos!

The Dodos

Silversun Pickups

Tom Jones

Photography by Treeboy Pictures
Haiku by Meiyee Apple

Adorable Matt
He is a little off key
No one seems to care

Photography & Haiku by Jenn Hernandez

Hipsters in full view
rumpshakers and beer too
band name says it all.

Haiku and Photos by Kyle Rother

Late night and Lone Stars
trying hard not to deny
days of being wild.

young and in basement
doused in red wash, moving to
despicable dogs

The Tony Castles:

Small Black:

Blind Man’s Colour:

Beach Fossils

Photography & Haiku by Andy Cohn

Internet vote night
Not really, but still awesome
Fagan said ‘fuck you’

Killer Harmonies
Summery sun-drenched pop songs
Perfect summer jams

Photos and haiku by Nikki Turner

Rawk and Nathan’s dogs
are a great combo for a
sweaty music fest.

Bear Hands

Frightened Rabbit

Grand Duchy

A Place to Bury Strangers

The Raveonettes

Monotonix

Built to Spill

Spank Rock

Photos & Haiku by Kyle Rother

On three summer eves,
as music permeates heat,
Spoon comes home again.

Dudes from Canada
came to rock and mosh with you
and give you wet hair.

Ol’ green shirt, heart butt
They sure don’t hate our city
Bare feet and hard beats.

Sonic Youth

The Entrance Band

Hot, sweaty messes,
Budweiser and sing-alongs;
Best bar band ever.

Best band in the world?
Yes. Unless Barack starts one
He’s great. Phoenix too

Major Lazor’s debut arrives this week, and what better way to bring it in than to crash NYC. Diplo whipped together a half-hour dj set for the eager gang of packed-tight, squirming fans, while Switch stood back, grinned and swigged on beer.

Photos and words by Rez Avissar

You can read reviews of this show all over the internet. I’ll just deliver with my 2 cents: The weather was perfect, the sound (at least up front) was great, Byrne’s voice sounded full after all these years, the Gala after-party (open bar!) was actually awesome, the amount of people that came out was mind-boggling (I read somewhere close to 30,000). As many reviewers point out, at 57, Byrne is in fantastic form. The press area in front of the stage had about 10-15 feet or so between the stage and the first row, and by the time the band was beginning to hit its stride, somewhere between “Heaven” and “Crosseyed and Painless,” everyone was up out of their seats and the area filled up with a sea of excited, dancing bodies, which remained there for the remainder of the 2-hour long set. That stride never lost steam from there, and of course the more well-known Talking Heads tunes got the most people rowdy and jerking around. One of those concerts where everything goes right.

I remember very clearly the first time I heard Julianna Barwick. I was listening to the Portuguese radio show Má Fama, two summers ago. First, came “Unt. 4,” a simple, repetitive and haunting tune that drew me in and piqued my curiosities (still one of her overlooked gems). When that tune segued into “Dancing With Friends,” that’s when I knew I had found a great artist.

“Dancing With Friends” is a song that evokes warm hues, community, and, as its title suggests, friendship… while I can’t actually imagine many people dancing to the tune, I’ve always pictured a gathering of children dancing around in the warm red hues of a fire-lit living room, with Indian headdresses on their head. Needless to say, it’s inviting, it’s great, and even without words, it speaks volumes. Julianna Barwick sculpts her songs out of her voice and occasionally an instrument or sample here or there; her voice is always the central element, and there’s always repetition, her main weapon being a loop pedal. She performed an extended rendition of the tune for Má Fama six months later in a wonderful session (no direct link, just scroll down). (Sadly, the blog and radio show have been abandoned, but you can still download both posts). The appearance led to coverage by popular blogs and a few ripples of attention, but proper recognition still eludes Barwick. She has since remixed Radiohead, done a Daytrotter session, played New York regularly, and just recently dropped her second release, the Pitchfork-approved Florine EP. Each has done its part to help her steadily rise, and more and more people in the blogosphere seem to be picking up on her name. I believe that if she keeps it up and builds a body of more great work that she will get the attention she deserves. On this night, only the first of her Pianos residency, the attendance was a bit underwhelming. Barwick seemed at home, though, an she communicates with her audience as one would performing to a small group of attentive, like-minded friends.

When she told her audience “I’ll play just one more; it’s a long one” I knew we were in for her ten-minute “Untitled” tune which she performed on the aforementioned Daytrotter and Má Fama sessions which sounds like a chanting chorus of children raised on Animal Collective, and was a perfect way to end the show.

The lighting in there was awfully dark and I feared the sound of my clicking shutter would disturb so I kept the photos to a minimum. In fact, I probably wouldn’t even post them here, but I feel Julianna Barwick deserves the attention and I will totally throw whatever support behind her that I can. Head over to her MySpace page for the full list of upcoming tour dates, and don’t sleep on catching her live. She’s doing something truly beautiful and unique.

An intimate night at (le) Poisson Rouge, who’s standing room area got converted to a seated dining space. With an entry price of $400, the guests were unsurprisingly ritzy arty types, and I kept thinking that there were probably more than a few artists in attendance that I’ve heard of but couldn’t point out.

Boasting two legends (Monk and Reich), a satisfying food menu and an open bar, this photographer is quite glad he was comped (and thanks to the waitress who brought me out leftovers and dessert!)

Reich’s performance was a clapped piece (humored me the way they both were staring at the sheet music so intently). It was short, and it was ultimately not that special. Meredith Monk, however, one of my favorites ever, absolutely nailed it. With no announcement of what was to be played, I was thrilled to find out she’d be performing “Hocket.” Out of all my favorites of hers, “Hocket” is the one I’d wanted to see live the most (check out this YouTube video of her performing it at The Whitney in February). Her performing partner, Katie Geissinger, actually nailed the difficult notes with flying colors. It sounded so amazing that I literally was almost brought to tears, and that doesn’t happen very often. Their vocal acrobatics were mesmerizing, but during the unhinged last quarter of the song where the two voices fly off the rails, the two were even more affected by it than in the video linked above or on record, going deeper and with voices more rough and gravelly than I’d heard before. This caused laughter among many attendees, even before a crowd you’d expect would think they “get” this sort of stuff. Still, the song was followed by the biggest ovation of the night. Meredith Monk is an awesome artist and the vibes she was giving off reminded me a bit of Bjork.

Unfortunately I had to miss the last two acts, Talujon and Cossin & Michael Lipsy, as I had to hop to another show since the event was behind schedule. When I returned 20 minutes later, the show was over, but I had caught what I had wanted to catch.

Steve Reich and BOC percussionist David Cossin

Kenny Savelson

Wu Man

BOC Co-founder David Lang

Maya Beiser performing Lang’s art-school take of Velvet Underground’s “Heroin”

BOC co-founder Julia Wolfe

Meredith Monk and Katie Geissinger: “Hips Dance” & “Hocket”

My boys in U.S. Royalty killed it again with their consistently energetic performances, playing a sampling of some new tunes from their upcoming debut full-length. Art Brut: It’s hard not to like the guy, he’s just so inherently goofy and innocent, like a grown-up child, singing about stuff like DC Comics. With a good row of devotees the performance pretty much perfectly reflected their M.O. laid out in their first album title: bang bang, rock & roll.

U.S. Royalty

Art Brut

The 2nd annual Roots Picnic took place in Philadelphia, PA this past Saturday, June 6th. The day long festival was curated by The Roots included performances by Santigold, Kid Cudi, TV On The Radio, Public Enemy, and two sets from The Roots themselves.

Santigold pretty much stole the show with her new live band and a special guest spot from Philly hometown hero Spank Rock. The band behind her provided the live show with that extra spark she’s been missing on stage. She’s decided to hold onto her two fly-girl, both of whom who are still really dope. Good move.

Kid Cudi brought a lot of energy to the seriously inferior side tent. It felt like a high school gym with a stage set-up on low risers. Cudi fought threw the loud sound coming from The Black Keys playing on the main stage to gain control of the mostly under-age crowd. People were singing along and bouncing around as Cudi’s charismatic stage presence took hold.

Public Enemy killed it with Antibalas and The Roots backing them up for a complete live rendition of their 1988 album It Takes A Nation Of Millions… As seemingly nutty and (wh)acked out as Flava Flav has become, he still destroys it onstage with great energy. Combined with the consistent militaristic tone of Chuck D (and Black Thought on most songs), the album got solid treatment.

TV On The Radio brought the night to a close for me. They played a beautiful, simple set mixing oldies such as “Staring At The Sun” with new crowd favorites off of Dear Science.

It was a well-organized event in a beautiful setting right on the water with a real sense of Illadelph pride and community. As concert organizers work out some kinks it should become a summer-staple a few weeks after Coachella and a few before Bonnaroo.

— Words by Will Suter, Photos by Thomas Pacchia

rust but not rusty
clipped wings and moving image
words, they mean nothing.

There seemed to be some mixed opinions on the venue but I found it to be a pretty inspired choice, although admittedly in the press box I was thinking to myself that the folks in the back’s view must be suffering. It sounded good and everything went very smoothly. I arrived just in time to catch the final three acts of the night.

[Wu Man, Sandeep Das, and Brooklyn Rider]
Performing Sulvasutra by Evan Ziporyn

[Bang on a Can All-Stars & Ryuichi Sakamoto]
Performing new work by Ryuichi Sakamoto and Horses of Instruction by Steve Martland

Tortoise’s harmonically-rich set was mostly taken from their upcoming record, Beacons of Ancestorship, starting off with album opener “High Class Slim Came Floating In.” They have been called everything from “post rock” to “ambient jam band” to “jazz” and their set filled all of those pretty neatly. With visuals that were visibly custom-made for each individual track, the band members switched up instruments in between songs,

Tthe band played a short, 7-song set largely driven by its two drum kits. Other songs abandoned the drums for malleted percussion, which moved the group away from driving jams to more minimal pastures. Their volume drowned out the room’s rattling air conditioners, but at times the drums, right up front, overwhelmed the total group sound in the echoing hall. Granted, shifting, propulsive beats are kind of Tortoise’s raison d’être, and their groove-heavy songs capped the Marathon with engaging, kinetic energy. A collection of psyched devotees jammed along in an area next to the stage. [Andrew Frisicano @ brooklynvegan]

Photo note: Darkest performance I’ve ever shot by far! But I’m tired of complaining about poor lighting. I’m actually way surprised I was able to squeeze these shots out @ 1/8 sec shutter speed.

[Tortoise]

Passion Pit played in Los Angeles for two consecutive nights with Cale Parks and Harlem Shakes. Excellent efforts on the two opening bands on both nights, but this is about the dance band of the summer.

Both shows, one at the tiny Troubadour in West Hollywood, and the other at the more appropriately-sized Echoplex in LA, were sold out for the mere price of $15 each. Because of buzz and the hype, tickets were going for $45-$65 each on Craigslist. The local scalper is living large this week.

This pretty much applies to both nights, but everyone is amped to dance and have a good time with their new favorite band. The boys of Passion Pit come out on stage, frontman Michael Angelakos is that friend you have in school that decided to grow a curly afro and a beard, one of the dudes has a McLovin quality to him, and the other keyboardist cast away to the side looks like he’s just lucky to be in a band.

In their short set, they play the best songs off their debut LP Manners, “Folds in Your Hands” and “Little Secrets”. The crowd goes crazy for the single “The Reeling” and blogger favorite “Sleepyhead”. The band has cleaned up and polished the tunes from their Chunk of Change EP. “I Got Your Number”, “Sleepyhead” and “Better Things” all have peppier disco feel to them. The crowd takes the place of the child choir, echoing and singing along “higher and higher” and “OH NO!” If you don’t focus on his voice constantly cracking, it is a really good time.

Angelakos is young, and fairly new, so his stage banter needs some work. Wait a few months, and that humbled and modest attitude they are sporting now will soon turn to snappy attitudes and flashier outfits. That is, if in a few months, Angelakos still has a voice. Auto-tune and production are his friends, because that dude is so pitchy. From time to time, you’ll see people giggle at his warble and whine; not hitting high notes, fading off. The music, though, is so heart-thumping and fun, that his screams go unnoticed, and the dancing continues.

The second night at the Echoplex was a bigger production with a video backdrop and lights, more distraction from his voice. The Echoplex show was more energetic and exciting. On both nights, they only played for fifty minutes. For those people that paid $50 for a ticket, that’s a dollar minute. Everyone had the idea that the smaller venue meant a better, more intimate performance, but really, it was kind of a lackluster show. The second night had more people, so more people to impress, and all in all, a better showing.

Last night I was asked to witness an intimate performance by Washington DC-based folk artist Vandaveer at Ditmas Park’s Sycamore. The small basement of the lounge designed by Norwegian architect Ole Sondresen (who also designed The National’s studio, who as rumor has it, is also affiliated with Sycamore), was the ideal setting for the Kentucky-born musician.

The name Vandaveer actually refers to the performing pseudonym of singer/songwriter Mark Charles Heidinger, accompanied on this tour by back-up vocalist Rose Guerin. The ambiance of Sycamore’s performance space was akin to a combination of a sauna mixed with the hull of an old sail boat. It was both warming and slightly church-like (the seats were set up similar to pews as Mark pointed out), while at the same time a bit claustrophobic. This would have more to do with the candle lighting and flowers strewn about than the actual size of the room — it was almost funeral-esque.

Again, this was perfect for Vandaveer’s simple-yet-endearing formula of strong craftmanship with the honest tone of a seasoned musician. His upcoming album Divide & Conquer is already out in France, Switzerland and Belgium on Alter K. Records/Discograph, which will be preceded by a limited edition 7-inch Supply and Demand Records will be putting out.

A night of no-bullshit indie rock at Bowery Ballroom, with all three bands filling the space with indie-rooted, rock n’ roll-indebted, experimentally adventurous, and most importantly, well-crafted songs.

[The Antlers]

I’ll admit that I don’t know a whole lot about any of the three bands tonight, especially The Antlers, (Ed. Note: Read our feature interview with Antlers’ frontman Peter Silberman here.) it was more of a “sounds good, let’s check it out” shows (this website doesn’t assign me these shows, I shoot the shows I wanna). They were surprisingly good, setting the tone for the night: tight, focused, folky rock songs with strong pop melodies. With the high falsetto vocals, it kind of reminded me of Woods.

[Cymbals Eat Guitars]

Cymbals Eat Guitars‘ debut record’s title is pretty dead-on (Why There Are Mountains). Their music is all about sweeping highs and lows, and judging from singer/guitarist Joseph D’Agostino’s performance last night, touring these songs out has not worn their effect at all. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone sweat so much in my life. It was literally flying off of him. The sweat-to-inspiration ratio was pretty darn good, too. Many will diss the band for D’Agostino’s college-band-dude look or his gauche banter, but the band put out a great record. And underneath that the band, like the last, seemed candid, sincere and genuinely appreciative.

Check out dude’s awesome effects pedals.

[White Rabbits]

Then White Rabbits came out and killed it. The three bands were a good trio to put together, but White Rabbits stood out as the right choice for headliner with their presence, which betrayed the confidence earned from extensive touring and years of playing together.

Someone new to St. Vincent would think that Annie Clark’s dash of diva-ness comes from her inevitable and well-deserved fame of late, but having seen some of her earliest solo shows, I can attest that her on-stage persona has always been a little vixenish. Haven’t you paid attention to the lyrics of her previous hit “Now Now”? A refrain of “You don’t mean that, say you’re sorry” is, in the context of the song, chill-inducing scary.

Even when she says something totally modest like, “I can’t believe I’m playing here, thank you so much, you’ve been so kind, etc”, I still think she very well might be part-vampire, entirely capable of destroying me in a matter of seconds. I’m sure the devilish way in which she often pounds on her guitar is responsible for this impression.

[St. Vincent]

She was even dressed to fit my imagination last night, in a pair of laced black stockings, over which she wore black shorts matched with a black top, accented with blood-red lipstick and equally red nail polish. She was joined by a band that included a saxophone and what I think was a fiddle (if not a violin or a viola). In a song called “Marrow”, off her new album, Actor, the saxophone blared over a steady stream of flat, 80s-inspired beats, and it sounded like all seven sins were involved in the making of that tune.

Pattern Is Movement was the opening act. Other than having a fantastic band name and lovable personalities, both Andrew Thiboldeaux and Chris Ward are nothing less than champions of music. When they play, it’s almost as if they carry a torch while wearing a shirt that says “Isn’t music such an awesome thing?”, and proceed to sprint like world-record holders. They were amazing.

[Pattern Is Movement]