Sarahindie

If you are unfamiliar, the premise of Hoodwink, traditionally held the night before Bamboozle festivals, is that bands pick a favorite, different band, and play a set of their songs. I, who loves cover songs, love Hoodwink. Because some people (me) have real jobs, I missed the first few bands. I am told that Eye Alaska, who did the music of Kanye West, stagecrashed the set of The Summer Set, who were doing Taylor Swift. So Eye Alaska wins at life.

All the Day Holiday plays The Beach Boys: they have dressed in costume, which is adorable. Blue oxford shirts, black trousers, sunglasses, hair neatly combed. It almost makes up for the terrible sound mix. It’s about 80% too loud treble, underscored by just enough bass to rattle my ribcage. The really weakness in this set is their insistence on using as much falsetto as the original band. It takes a real man to admit that his falsetto isn’t ready for prime time. Also, thanks to this band’s popularity, this is the first time I’ve seen kids running and dancing wildly at the sound of the Beach Boys in … ever.

The Maine plays Everclear: From the first song, they are excellent. (To be fair, the source material is way easier.) But the Phoenix-based Maine has the right laid-back SoCal angst for this band’s repetoire.

Hmm, as they go on, it becomes apparent that they frontloaded the set with the songs they were good at. The lead singer’s grip on the lyrics collapses after the second song.

Say Anything plays The Misfits: Okay. Loud. Par for the course.

Motion City Soundtrack plays Nine Inch Nails: I suppose anyone who thought about it a moment would realize that MCS would be the best band at Hoodwink this year. They picked source material that was strong and adapted it to their strengths rather than trying to force themselves to be an electrometal band for a night. But it still shows a new side of them, which I think is the secret aim behind the Hoodwink concerts. This is awesome, hard as hell rock. Plus, they use their techs to their full ability, so at one point, there are seven guys playing on stage. Plus, no one except drummer Tony Thaxton seems to be the only one allowed to play just one instrument. It’s positively Arcade Fire. But it is amazingly worth it, if just for the three dueling synths + Moog closing of “Closer.”

The way frontman Justin Pierre throws himself around the stage, I think this might be the closest I ever coming to seeing Trent Reznor himself. It’s almost worth the horrible pain in my eardrums from the WAY TOO MANY amps.

When they start “Hurt”, there are at least a dozen real lighters in the air. That is more than I’ve seen at a show in at least ten years. Also, my favorite people here are3 the nice middle-aged mom with the string backpack and her husband, who is having a religious experience.

Andrew McMahon plays Bar Classics: He starts with a Dylan impression. Progresses to “Rocket Man,” a deep Simon & Garfunkel cut, and a quarter-speed version of MGMT’s “Kids.” Time to go home!

Whoops!

I expected this place to be full of dudebros drinking tallboys, so go me on that front. I did not expect Biffy Clyro to be shirtless. Then again, this is the hottest room in the free world. Scottish rockers Biffy Clyro isn’t known at all really in this country, but Team Biffy is one of the more dedicated groups in rock and there are a few of them here, tiny individual pockets of fans with arms raised and rocking out. A band an ocean away from home still has fans to cheer them on. And that is the wonder of the internet. The downside of the internet? I know only two of their songs, from internet radio, including the brilliant “Glitter and Trauma,” and they play neither. :( However, they set the tone for a night of intense, manly as hell rock.

Between the bands, when everyone leaves to refresh their tallboys, we race forward into the breach and wind up behind a load of 18 year olds sitting on the floor. I really hope they weren’t sitting during Biffy.

I seriously appreciate how nicely the Features are dressed. Any one of them could be an assistant professor at a crunchy college. The lead singer is in a sweater vest! Also, they’re teching their own shit.

I think I am getting too old for three bands I don’t know terribly well on my feet at the end of a long week. I want a vip pass just so I can sit down.

I will say that this band is intense. The drummer is a wild man, but with expert precision is in awe. The lead singer makes a pained noise when he screams that makes it look like he’s getting stabbed in the stomach.

There’s one guy here, tall and keeps fist pumping and pointing at people and dancing all crazy. I hope he’s on drugs. Otherwise he’s just obnoxious.

The pot smoke is getting overwhelming. I am tempted to crouch because GI Joe taught me that smoke rises and fresh air is near the ground.

Didn’t work. Still smells like fire-breathing skunks down there.

You know that guy in college who partied and drank like he was in a frat, even though your tiny liberal arts college didn’t have a Greek system? That is Manchester Orchestra’s core fanbase.

Four hundred drunk white guys cannot sway in time to the music as a unit. Can’t be done.

The guy next to me texts a friend that this is the worst possible set Manchester could have chosen. Admittedly, I don’t know Manchester’s canon very well, but the set seems unusually slow. Jessica opines later that they shortened the fast sections of songs and stretched out the slow ones. You know when bands have a slower song and then throw a fast, thrashing section in the middle for emotional oomph? That only works once. When every song seems to have that same setup, it loses it’s power. Also, hilariously, that just confused the drunk faux-frat boys, who had formed a sad sort of circle pit (I dunno, one guy was skanking? And there was definite rave hands action). They had to dance their hearts out for about 90 seconds, then mill around for three minutes.

It’s probably also important to note that we were standing below a special extra VIP section (roped off from regular VIP) that turned out to be for the Followill brothers (upon whose imprint the Features rest) and the Followife, singer-songwriter Jessie Baylin, who obviously adored Manchester Orchestra. It gave me something to look at when I wasn’t getting anything of note from the band.

We wandered up and Young Veins frontman? Ryan Ross was standing outside, trying to get in. The Studio smelled strongly of Lysol, which I’m taking as a good sign. This late in the year, coat check is closed, but there’s a coat rack. We hide the nice coats under the cheap coats. I actually quite like this venue. It’s small, reception is decent and drinks are reasonably priced!

I also like that the basement at Webster is a little warren of lounges and powder rooms and cafe tables, which makes it a haven for parents! Downside: it warms up when it gets full, which is bad when you are wearing an acrylic sweater, like me.

We stake out a spot in the back by a bench! I like benches! Within moments, we are surrounded by Jon Walker, of The Young Veins, Tom Conrad, of Empires, and Alex Suarez, of Cobra Starship, all separately having conversations with people. It’s distracting as hell.

Bad Rabbits: Like Foxy Shazam, the headliner, this band is seriously entertaining. Think Gym Class Heroes in the 1970s. This band has a sincere appreciation of their funk roots, and they’re having fun up there, which is more than I can say about most bands. That alone makes them fun to watch. Bonus: their frontman is a FRONTMAN. For all he dresses like Mos Def, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone came out with a cape to drape on him.

Bad Rabbits are done and the first band’s frontman? is still at the bar. This doesn’t bode super well.

But I have a moment to talk to you about the crowd! It is random. There are several pompadours, a couple of guys in skinny hipster suits, a couple of guys in proper banking business suits, a lot of guys that would look right at a funk revival show in Brooklyn, white dudes with shaggy jewfros and track jackets in intentionally dated colors.

The Young Veins: The soundcheck does not fill me with hope. The teenaged fans shriek when Ryan appears and when he soundchecks his mic, it sounds like pre-pubescent Bob Dylan being punched in the gut.

I would like to describe their asthetic as This Is Ivy League with a drinking problem, but that makes no sense. Did you ever read Harriet the Spy, where her best friend’s dad is an alcoholic sportswriter in the 1960s? This is probably how he looked at work. A little too thin for his suits, hair a little straggly, just enough to start whispers around the office. Also, it looks like Jon Walker bought his suit before his wasting disease sets in.

They are better than I expected! The harmonies need a little tightening up, but it helps that they got a lot of really confident musicians (ex-Bright Eyes, ex-Tilly and the Wall, unless that’s the same guy. I can’t remember) to fill it out. Also, my grandma would yell because Ryan is chewing gum while he sings. The songs are pleasant and diverting, like the background of a film set in the 60s. But, tucked between the funk stylings and high energy of Bad Rabbits and Foxy Shazam? Ryan is currently asking us to slow dance. For. Reals. They would be an excellent opener for Rilo Kiley or Feist, perhaps. The trouble with what’s left of the emo scene (i.e. Crush Management, the thing these bands have in common), is that they aim everything at their established emo/pop-punk fanbase, built on the backs of Fall Out Boy and Panic! at the Disco. But when bands come along that are good in different ways, they make no effort to market them out in those spaces. They just shove them at the teenagers until it sticks, or doesn’t, and then move on. By which I mean that it is likelier that they will open for Gym Class Heroes than Feist.

Anyway, the net net here is that I would kill for a seat right about now. This is sitting music. And after Bad Rabbits, it’s jarring.

Jake Shears is dressed like the motorcyclist from the current incarnation of The Village People. (Ana says he looks like he’s in the musical version of Cruisin’.) They look gracefully older. I like it. It matches how the audience has aged. I think I expected gay club kids, the Goldfrapp audience, but what I got is a hugely pregnant lady and some muscle men cruising past 50 and a lot of really square people reliving their dorm dance parties of five or six years ago. I don’t think I’ve been in a crowd this inclusive since … ever.

The second song is “Laura” and we lost it. Their moms in the balcony lose it.

“Sometimes in New York, you just want to sit and fan yourself with your sunglasses and make people prove themselves worthy, but tonight isn’t about that. Tonight is about dancing like nobody’s watching.” -Ana

The third song is the first of many promised new ones. It’s dirty, but super fun.

Fashion highlight is obviously Del. I do love a man in a sharp jacket. And even though he obvy grew the facial hair to stop getting carded, no one else would be able to pull off that faux primitive look. Fashion lowlight? One of the two backup dancers is wearing a leather dress with a v neck to her navel, filled in with black illusion netting. Just no.

Fashion update: During “Tits on the Radio,” Ana ripped off the front panel of her dress. A+ look. (Also, honey has lost a ton of weight. It looks like she and Jake have been muscle building.)

We’ve never had so many drinks spilled on us, including one from the balcony! New. Exciting. Strangely unangrifing, because I know they’re spilled out of love from dancing too hard.

I cannot tell who I love more, the slightly rhythm challenged Trey Anastasio clone or the tall, awkward, in love math major boys grinding during “I Don’t Feel Like Dancing.” I’m not poking fun. I honestly love them, because they are dancing like no one’s watching. We’re all a little older, a lot squarer, but we have this in common and you can’t mock love.

New songs verdict: Like the later works of the Pet Shop Boys, the songs are getting a little darker, maybe club life isn’t so fun, but rather than attempt to make the same album they made seven years ago, to recapture lightning in a bottle, they’re making music that reflects their own maturity and changing situation, and that’s bound to work.

Why? Because I actually agree with the inductees. Why does my opinion matter? For the same reason the voters’ opinions matter. BECAUSE I SAY SO.

Anyway, this year’s performing inductees are:

ABBA! They are amazing, and you know it. You deny it in front of your cool friends, but what you don’t know is that the really cool kids admit loving ABBA too. They had amazing songs, amazing harmonies, full freaking package.

Genesis: Phil Collins’ gradual descent into lameness (or at least being known as lame) sort of tarnished the work of Genesis. They were actually a pretty good band! Well, “Invisible Touch” was good. And also “Land of Confusion,” I think. Can’t remember now. But my mom liked them! She has good taste.

The Hollies: I know one song by them, but it’s really good. “Bus Stop” is one of the top five songs that I wake up to. It’s super hard to have a bad morning when you wake up to the cheerful harmonies and mild psychedelia of that song. Oh, hey! They also sang “Long Cool Woman in a Black Dress” and “The Air That I Breathe.” Those are excellent. They deserve it.

Jimmy Cliff: He’s the man when it comes to reggae. Pretty much the man. Marley gets the credit, Cliff did as much work. Next! (Full disclosure: I hate reggae.)

The Stooges: Billie Joe Armstrong gave them this award by saying, “They symbolize the destruction of Flower Power and the creation of raw power.” Then they played the following song, creating the musical highlight of the evening. Listen to it and try not to rock out.

It has come to my attention that I totally forgot to post my best of 2009, even after I promised I would. So, without further ado, everything you hopefully didn’t miss in ’09 (I have even embedded the albums and songs so you can at least click the button and listen. I am SPOON-FEEDING YOU GREATNESS):

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I promise that festivals aren’t the only thing I talk, but here’s a couple more things I want to say.

After my first festival experience last year, and my enjoyment of such, I started thinking about what it would take to get me to go to another one and how to make that call. So, here are my items for consideration.

The Bands: This, of course, is the most critical part. I am devising a points system for the Lollapalooza lineup. The lineup needs to amass 20 points for me to make the trip. Rumored headliner Green Day, who I think will do amazing things with the big space as well as putting on a truly remarkable show? 8 points. Chicago locals Company of Thieves, who are phenomenal live? 1. When the big lineup comes out, I tally up the points and figure out if it’s worth the trouble.

The Location: I like beds and the indoors. After a long day of standing outside, I want a shower and maybe a coffee in the AM. This rules out Bonnaroo, Coachella, and most English festivals, as these all require camping. (I would love to do the Bonnaroo VIP package where you get to stay in a tour bus.) In the points system, being near a hotel is +3. Requiring camping is -10. Minimum.

The Douche Factor: And now we get to the crux. I dislike when people are mean to other people, and I get enraged at things that are exclusive to be exclusive. This is why I will never, ever go to SXSW. The way the festival is organized, two hundred shows in teensy venues, the people who paid up to $800 for a badge or a wristband are not guaranteed entry. Hole is playing in a sports bar that seats 500. This plays into the festival’s “exclusivity for exclusivity’s sake.” People with badges get in first. Then locals with wristbands. Then anyone else who wants to pay. But supposing 700 people with badges show up? 200 people who paid for badges still won’t get to see Hole. And the wristbands can go eff themselves. What’s the point of that system other than being a dick? Let people who paid go to shows. Let people who won’t get in make other plans. Lots of bands are going to play to ten people while everyone tries to get into the Hole show. On the point system, let’s call this a -20. Me spending all of that money and then not getting to see the bands I want to see drops the whole concept way down.

Summary: I’m resigned to not going to any festivals other than Lollapalooza and maybe All Points West (which is a hassle to get to, but technically possible from my apartment) in my lifetime. Maybe someday, when I’m a rich and famous blogger, I’ll rent a house near Coachella or a tour bus at Bonnaroo. But it seems unlikely.

Remember my post about how Coachella is about people paying for nostalgia? Tofutti Break agrees with me and posted what will clearly be next year’s poster.

Yesterday, bored at home, I started googling for Lollapalooza lineup rumors. It turned out that there were all sorts of whispers that Green Day would be making an appearance, GD being one of the two bands that will make the decision for me. (The other being Muse.) (That decision being yes.) Anyway, I was elated to discover this morning that, according to The Daily Swarm, this year’s big stage headliners will be Green Day, Lady Gaga, and the first US reunion show of Soundgarden. Excellent! I will get to see Lady Gaga without specifically paying for that, which is ideal, plus Green Day, who are always unbelievable and will be touring in support of Green Day Rock Band.

Rumored to be headlining the other stage? The Flaming Lips, Beastie Boys (to make up for last year, when they pulled out following Ad-Rock’s cancer diagnosis) and Arcade Fire. But again, these are just rumors.

This might have been my last time seeing The Used, but I doubt it. I always end up back there, don’t I? The half of the band that cares is so compelling that it’s easy to forget that the other half doesn’t. Also, the Starland Ballroom is a fucking fire trap, but I fully appreciate the work of the horde of security guards that were seriously on top of the action.

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