Various Artists – Quarters, Vol. 2 7"

Compilation 7″ records are a bit odd. Either you’re going to get one band you’ve heard of and a bunch of tiny other bands, or you’re going to just wish it was on CD so you could listen to it all the time. This one definitely falls into the latter category. Here, Atarms Mechanics brings together four midwest bands that all play their own unique forms of powerful post-hardcore rock. And they complement each other perfectly.
The always impressive Casket Lottery kicks things off with “Carmichaels and Carpikes.” Starting off even more melodic than you might expect, the song absolutely explodes. With screamed vocals, a math-like bass line, and guest vocals from Kill Creek’s Scott Born, this song both rocks hard and overwhelms you with the band’s talent. Each release from this band just gets better, and this song is probably the highlight of the four here. Melodic and moody one moment, powerful and intense the next, I love this track.
Trocar go balls-out on their song, “J-Tech.” From the opening bell, you get some intense guitarwork and gruff, shouted vocals. But the edgy guitar shows a hint of melodicism, and the pace never quite makes it into the hardcore realm. Think a cross between a DC band like Q and Not U and Hot Water Music for a hint of the edgy rock this band shows off here.
Sweep the Leg Johnny contribute a cover of Lustre King’s “Transit Must Suffer,” done in the band’s own unique style of instrumental rock. Now a five piece with two guitarists, two bassists, and a drummer, Sweep the Leg Johnny have the whole kind of disturbing math-rock sound down pat. There’s always been something that disturbs me about this band’s music, and this song is no different, but it’s hard not to be impressed.
Finally, Biddy Biddy Biddy close off the album with “We, the Artificial.” This song has an angular beat, edgy guitar lines, and effect-laden vocals that mix surprisingly well. Not exactly futuristic, they instead remind me a bit of what it would sound like if The Faint and Engine Down combined. Edgy and intense, yet powerfully rocking and still unique, this is a band I have to hear more from.
This is a stellar compilation that would surely sell more if released in CD EP format. Regardless, I highly suggest fans of powerful indie rock, emo, or math-rock go out and track this one down. Out of four bands, there’s not a weak song in the bunch, and each is different enough to keep you on your toes. Quite impressive, to say the least.

Tristeza – Mixed Signals

Remixes are often a mixed (if you’ll excuse the expression) bag. On the one hand, you’ve got to figure the original should be good enough to stand on its own, and if it could be improved, no one but the original band should do it. On the other hand, you’ve got all these electronic artists with tons of machinery at their fingertips, just itching to put their own trademark flare on original creations. And you have to wonder, why aren’t they creating their own original works?
To be honest, I’ve never really seen the point of a remix. For the most part, a remix just takes a perfectly good song and turns it into an electronic/ambient piece. Sometimes, you can barely recognize the original – and while that clearly demonstrates the most unique touch of the remixer, it leaves you wondering why the original was needed at all. Often with a remix you just get lengthy, repetitive compositions of high-speed beats, obnoxious electronic bleeps, and endless repetition of the elements of the original song the remixer deemed “neat.”
On Mixed Signals, 11 musicians/bands take tracks from Tristeza’s 2000 release, Dream Signals in Full Circles, and turn them into electronic and IDM affairs. It’s an interesting project, for while Tristeza’s soothing instrumental music has a kind of blissful atmosphere, the band hasn’t really delved into electronics themselves – aside from guitarist Jimmy Lavalle’s Album Leaf side project. Gone are the lovely, flowing guitar melodies and soothing effects, and taking their place are loads of beats and electronic bleeps and bloops.
There’s a few tracks worth pointing out on this release, even if they do tend to mostly run together. Randomnumber’s remix of “Building Peaks” has some nice, IDM-style flow to it, with a kind of atmosphere of the original, although Verbose’s remix of the same song is better. Diagram of Suburban Choas’ “I Am a Cheeta” is far too ambient for me, but Scientific American’s cool version of “Shifty Drifty” uses some neat, up-tempo beats and assorted sounds to give it a poppy feel. Some tape samples give The Snodgrass’ remix of “City of the Future” a moody kind of feel. Windy & Carl’s ultra-lush take on “Opiate Slopes,” an already lush song, just serves to give it a thicker, dreamier atmosphere. The Cocteau Twins’ Simon Raymonde closes with a mix of “Are We People” that has a very futuristic sound. Raymonde doesn’t lay on any new beats but instead works with what the band had, which is a nice touch.
For the most part, this album serves as a curio, an intriguing take on a band that a lot of people really enjoy but hardly necessary. In fact, it’s likely that many Tristeza fans will be turned off by these remixes that sound virtually nothing like the soothing tracks from Dream Signals. Fans of Album Leaf and more electronic and experimental works, however, will likely enjoy this release for the curiosity factor more than for any works of deep meaning and weight.

Kaospilot – Split 7"

I’ve read a lot about Neil Perry over the years and their blend of ultra-heavy screamo, but I’ve never heard them before. Here, they’re joined with Kaospilot from Norway, who could be their sister band. These two bands show their penchant for heavy, chaotic songs, and with Neil Perry contributing three songs to one side of a 45 rpm record, you know it’s going to be fast and in-your-face.
Yessir, Neil Perry knows how to rock. These songs were recorded over two years ago but just released here for the first time, and they show an interesting dichotomy to the band. The heavy-handed drumming and throat-wrenching screams on “Breathing with One Bad Lung” contrast against a more melodic guitar, giving it more of an old-school emo feel. “There’s a Fine Line Between Thrift Store and White Trash,” besides being a true sentiment, has much less melodicism and more power chords. Very in-your-face, this song is quite powerful, but suddenly it breaks down, with just guitar and spoken vocals deep in the background. A really nice touch before it explodes again. Perhaps it’s in that softer part that the song breaks into “A Friend is a Lesson to Be Learned,” but it’s pretty indistinguishable, frankly. It could just be two songs here for all I can tell.
Kaospilot start off with “16.6.2000,” a very chaotic, powerful track. The overwhelming sound is of metal, with thick power-chords that chug away more often than not and moody, powerful drums and bass, but it also has a more primal, edgy feel that gives it a more hardcore edge. This one track is so powerful, it ends with someone going “whoo” and laughing, and I have the same response. Fortunately, their second track, “The Noise from the Bell Killed Me,” helps break things up. A lengthy and moody instrumental, it shows off the band’s talent for more melodic rock. This song flows nicely, and the guitars have a very light feel over thick bass and drums, giving it a very unique feel and nice flow.
Whoo, you really need a breather after this slab of vinyl, and Kaospilot’s second song provides that breather. It’s a nice, more melodic break after the rest of the heavy, powerful metal-hardcore. Neil Perry’s probably at the forefront of that field, from what I’ve read, and Kaospilot can certainly keep up.

Geoff Farina – Blobscape

Geoff Farina is a busy man. In addition to the albums he’s released with the bands Karate and Secret Stars, he also is accumulating a respectable solo catalogue. Interestingly enough, as all of those bands evolve, one element stands out: that of Farina’s jazzy, experimental guitar playing. It’s clear in each of those projects that Farina is reaching, trying new things, playing for the sheer joy of the sounds he’s able to make, and in the process his guitarwork gets better and more exciting.
This, then, may be the culmination of that development. Blobscape is not a real album, per se, but rather a collection of 16 pieces chosen out of more than 100 that were completely improvised. In the fall of 2001, Farina and Secret Stars collaborator Jodi Buonanno went to the Narragansett Grange Hall in Wakefield, RI, where Farina played and Buonanno painted, both working off the creative energy of the other. There were no changes made to this recording; Farina merely chose his 16 favorites.
Many critics have used words like “masturbatory” for Farina’s self-indulgent guitar playing in the past, and those critics will absolutely hate this album, for it’s perhaps the most self-indulgent of all. But rather than compiling minutes of guitar wanking, Farina is really trying to express himself through the instrument. For the most part, he succeeds on these 16 instrumental pieces. Taking a page from musicians like Charlie Parker and John Zorn, Farina allows the guitar to become the extension of his emotions and thoughts, and without other instruments or vocals to accompany, the guitar sounds really do shine on their own.
That’s not to say that this is the easiest release to listen to. Forsaking traditional rock structure, these pieces are more solo compositions than songs, as Farina blends chords and notes with a light, quick hand. At times sounding a bit like noise, at others brilliant, chiming sounds, these pieces don’t feel right on their own. Sure, they were picked out of more than 100, so they can’t flow together, but I find myself checking the tracks and surprised at how many have passed without my realizing it. They do flow together, coherent in their own jazzy experimentation.
A few pieces stand out. The and jazzy “Slurpy” is a favorite and will sit well with fans of Farina’s most recent solo album. “Chewable Resources” flows nicely around quick, almost classically played notes for a startling powerful feel, and it flows nicely into the title track, which really is the standout piece of experimental guitar. The quick progression on “Hibye” is impressive, while “Universal Indians” feels about as free-form as Farina ever gets. Some of the quieter songs, like “Piss,” make this album a nice, calming late-night listen.
No, this album is not for everyone, and I won’t be surprised if many critics pan it, but I find it a fascinating listen. This is music from the heart, played by a talented guitarist exploring his own abilities and inspiration. My only regret is the paintings by Buonanno done at the same time are not represented here in some way. It might help expand on the experience.

Engine Down – Demure

I am a big fan of Engine Down, and once I got used to the fact that the band wanted to change directions with their last album, Under the Pretense of the Present Tense, shifting from a more shouted, hardcore style to a more melodic form, I came to appreciate that album for the stellar work of rock that it was. Demure doesn’t quite rank up with the elements that make Under the Pretense so good, but it’s close, and fans of that album will definitely not be disappointed here.
Demure finds Engine Down maturing, I think, settling comfortably into a melodic, moody tone that permeates most of their songs. With guitars that have an edge about them even on their most melodic moments and powerful drumming, the songs possess a kind of raw intensity, even as they get quieter. Keely Davis’ high-pitched vocals shine on this release, deeply passionate and possessing a desperate quality.
The album starts with one of its most lovely tracks, “Songbird,” a mid-tempo song centered around syncopated rhythm and jangly guitar, letting Davis’ vocals take the real center stage with rather cryptic lyrics. By the end of this song, it picks up into a climax that’s even more powerful by its preceding simplicity. It’s a nice transition into the more intense “Pantomime,” following the high-powered rhythm section. A perfect example of the band’s unique sound is “Detour.” Starting soft, it picks up but never gets too fast, at times almost receding into silence before taking off with even greater emotional intensity.
“Taken In” kicks the band into more rocking form, with that killer rhythm section taking the lead, and “Overrated” brings in some killer guitar work to compliment Davis’ vocals. That track, and “Second of February,” are on the band’s EP, which was released in Europe, and they are worthy of repeating here, as the latter is one of the band’s best moody rock tracks. On the other hand, the slow “Closed Call” is about as mellow as the band gets. Davis sounds melancholy as he sings, to just an electric guitar accompaniment mostly but with some female vocals joining him, “this day has fogged my thrill / this day is just the same.”
The band’s lyrics are interesting, never very clear, but moving as you pick out phrases like “same as it ever was.” Rather, Keely’s voice is allowed to carry them, poem-like, in a kind of weave with the music, much in the way Sunny Day Real Estate did on their early albums. It’s an art form, I think, and it makes this album all the more intriguing. And while some of the moody piano elements from their last full-length are missing here, the music is still strong, making this an excellent release.

Various Artists – From Brooklyn with Love

Well, first off, let me say that after reading up on this compilation, I was pretty much sold on it before I’d even put it into the CD player. Seeing as Dying Wish Records is based in Brooklyn, label staff and local bands were directly affected by the events of September 11, 2001. Within two weeks, Dying Wish had already begun to piece together this compilation, which is essentially a fundraiser for the NYC Twin Towers Fund. I’m big on worthy causes, and seeing this many (21) bands from the area donating songs for this comp was really nice. However, all thoughts of a ‘sympathetic cause review’ were jarred out of my head after only about 45 seconds of listening, as I came to realize that the music was just as good as the cause at hand.
The disc opens with a few seconds of a soundbyte from Mike Tyson’s Punch Out, leading to a completely shredding, intense (and previously unreleased) track by Bayside, “Count the Score.” Lost North Star’s “Fade Away Broken” follows with a healthy dose of guitar pop and pretty female vocals (think Sarge), while Atkins Lane slows things down with the solid, decidedly emotional bent of “Between Here and There.” Brand New picks the pace back up with the rocking “The Shower Scene,” and The Reunion Show’s catchy “Dedication” keeps the upbeat mood going via crunchy rhythm guitars and some cool synth enhancements.
Stopwatch’s “Maybe the Best” starts out with a quiet guitar and voice lament towards a girl before picking up a bopping beat, while Dirt Bike Annie offers up a nice slice of 50′s influenced, girl-fronted catchy pop rock. Five Cent Deposit throws its two cents in with the punk-influenced “Stupid Me” and its chant-along chorus of, “When you blow me off / You’re calling me an asshole / That’s how I take it / That’s how I am,” and Nixon Rules follows with “They,” which comes off like something from the catalogue of Epitaph Records’ glory days. Clearview 77 keeps the ‘punk’ theme going with the eminently catchy “Dead End Chump,” complimented nicely by the sub-two minute Allister toe-tapper, “Stuck.”
Copeland’s radio-friendly “That Awful Memory of Yours” turns the disc in a more restrained direction, whereas Yellowcard meshes tight dual-guitar rhythms and tight, rocking rhythm with violin pieces on “For Pete’s Sake.” Outline’s “A Boy Can Dream” is a solid, if uneventful slab of rock, though Different Strokes’ “Spring Never Felt So Warm” brings some excitement through tight guitars, wicked drumming, and an emotional delivery. My personal favorite choice for the cutest girl trio in the world, The Hissyfits, follow with the catchy “Superstar” (from their latest release, Letters From Frank).
Finch’s “Letters to You” follows by completely obliterating the cute girl-pop with a wall of strong guitars and a bridge full of background screams that manages to be as catchy as it does raucous. Go Real Slow’s “As For Me” is another solid pop-punk rocker, while Bayside’s second offering, “Advance Letter Goodbye,” sits as a catchy slab of guitar rock tinged with quick beat changes and the occasional harmony vocals, as well as a few nice lead guitar spots thrown it.
Whippersnapper’s “Steady the Walls” is a catchy hard-rocker, though Taking Back Sunday’s “The Blue Channel” does a much better job of standing out as a solid, intensely guitar-driven track (thanks to the sweet bass and drum tracks). A Dying Day Dream’s “The Cost of Caring and the Price of Being Rejected by Bad Credit” ends this comp on a wonderfully schizophrenic note, bouncing somewhere between punk, emo, and rock before dropping into a downright nasty, almost metal bridge, complete with coarse screaming and chugging guitar riffs.
Well, to put it bluntly, From Brooklyn With Love is chock-full of 22 tracks of emo-pop-punk goodness, and in all seriousness, there’s not a single clunker in the bunch. The first three tracks here are just mind-blowing, and everything following them is certainly nothing to complain about. Obviously, there are bound to be ‘scenesters’ that claim to be too cool for stuff like this … Well, screw them. This is great music for a good cause. Buy this CD by any means necessary.

Bryan Berg – The Therapy Sessions

Bryan Berg’s The Therapy Sessions suffers from one of the strangest maladies that music has to offer. Berg’s songwriting is perfectly acceptable, his lyrics tell socially conscious stories, and the musicianship that multi-instrumentalist Berg and guitarist John Summers showcase is certainly more than adequate.
So why doesn’t The Therapy Sessions register very high on the listenable list? Well, quite simply put, it’s just lacking in substance. Berg’s 12 compositions come off somewhat forced and insincere, though his lyrics do attempt to confront various social issues (which is quite commendable). Unfortunately, Berg’s attempts at ‘confrontation’ with these issues come off in a very ‘after-school special’ kind of way, which just gets really old after about three songs. Musically, things here just sound dated – most of the backing tracks here sound like background music from an episode of Miami Vice.
I really hate to sound negative, because Berg’s work really isn’t completely terrible or anything. Most of the music here seems more like something that the yuppy generation would identify with, though. In “Urban Sprawl Crawl,” Berg sings about “an Astro Van and a blue-eyed wife” while talking of housing tracts and discount malls. The lyrics to “Rouge Trader” concern unethical methods of affecting the stock market, while “Extreme Nation” discusses the negative effects that television has on the nation’s youth.
Berg’s aim is true, but every time I listen to The Therapy Sessions, I can’t help but feel like I’m listening to a record written by my high school guidance counselor. I’m 100% certain, though, that The Therapy Sessions isn’t aimed at me, but at a slightly older demographic, which would explain a lot of the issues I have with this release. Berg’s lyrics showcase a decent enough storyteller (even if he is a bit on the heavy-handed side), and while I personally found his song arrangements to be a bit boring, this disc probably isn’t nearly as bad as I’m making it out to be. The Therapy Sessions was just a little too clean for me, though. To each their own, I guess.

Bottled Og – Portland – The Blackbird, OR – 2002-03-23

Oakland’s Bottled Ogopened up with a heavy but mildly pretentious set. Their third CD is set to come out sometime soon, which will be their second release after losing a member and having changed their name from Bottledog. Sounding like a less sluggish Slug, they were very bottom-heavy but with a twin guitar assault to boot. Their thick percussive rhythms interlaced with indecipherable vocals had all the finesse and variance of a steamroller.

New to my ears was the group The Planet The, who I believe are from PDX. A very unique act, they come across as a honky-tonk guitarist and a shoulder strap synth keyboardist playing prog-inspired math rock. The influence of Yes abounds, with instrumental dueling and bar-to-bar time changes, but just when you start to hallucinate Rick Wakemen, the band rockets forward a decade into something that sounds a little like Tears for Fears at their artistic height. They exercise dynamics fairly well too, especially the drummer who never overplays. The guitarist doubles on vocals, which, while sparse overall, have a sure ear for entertainment. His quirky and oft-hilarious lyrics got a great reaction from those members of the crowd paying attention, particularly his final cover of Bruce Springsteen’s “I’m On Fire,” which was part Suicide and part standup. While the band’s technical prowess was a little mechanistic at times, they kept their instrumental wandering in check, and put on a great performance.

Seattle’s AVEO took the stage next and were a little anticlimatic after the energy of The Planet The’s set. After about the second song, the lead singer’s voice seemed to have given out, but he struggled on which just seemed to improve the wet trembling momentum of their music. Fairly introverted, they have rightly drawn comparisons to the Smiths (with their last song possibly being a cover of said band?). Good, but unremarkable.

Now, U.S. Maple. The crowd began to get restless as the band failed to take the stage for a rather long period, and some amusing rumors began to swim around the assemblage probably due in no small part to how the Mercury had played them up to be so ‘otherworldly.’ Taking full advantage of the low stage at the Blackbird, guitarist, Todd Rittmann literally stepped down into the audience uttering sweet nothings and one-liners into the ears of exuberant fans and bewildered onlookers. Bumming cigarettes in the middle of songs, hiding in the corner, and saying to a girl standing next to me “…I love being in this band…but, do you think I could just leave?” The other members were no help either, with Al Johnson trying to lie down on the drum kit, the drummer, amps, or whatever else might support his weight in between his deconstructionist communiques on the mic (which he left hanging uncomfortably from guitar necks, monitors, and fans when not in immediate use). What was striking about seeing them now as compared to a couple years ago (opening for Pavement), is that they seemed to really be having a lot of fun. The almost violent tension they had has been mostly supplanted by what has turned into a sort of game to push each other towards greater achievement and grander failure. Where they used to create a dynamic of fear as they sabotaged each other, threatening that the music would collapse and the band would break out in a fight, those exhilarating days seem to be in decline. After nearly seven years of playing together, the parallel universe they inhabit must seem normal … the (relatively) new drummer Adam Vida may have something to do with this change also, but his seemingly Robitussin induced spasms felt right at home, so I don’t think it is that simple.

Although the band seems to be capable of laughing at themselves now, there still is darkness here: the brooding duet between Al Johnson and Mark Shippy that they closed with was disquieting, and the band still takes risks that few other groups would dare to. I’m reminded of Evil Kanevel who once said that he would drive off a canyon knowing he couldn’t clear it, because that was what the audience had come to see. While I doubt U.S. Maple has their groupies in mind, they do seem to play first and worry about it ‘working’ later if at all. Guaranteed, this band will give you the best headache you’ve ever had.

The Dismemberment Plan – Wayne – MichiganFest 2002 – Wayne Manor, MI – 2002-03-22

My mission, if I chose to accept it, was to revive myself from a long, tedious, boring day of work and survive over six hours on my feet at the opening day of MichiganFest 2002. If I managed to make it through this ordeal, my reward would be Death and Dismemberment – more specifically, performances by Death Cab for Cutie and the Dismemberment Plan.

This was not an easy mission, as my cubicle walls seemed to be closing in on me over the course of my workday. Still, at 5:30 I bolted for the doors like Will Smith flying that aircraft out of the giant alien mothership in “Independence Day,” streaking towards my car with cat-like quickness. Work was over for the weekend … And one 45 minute drive later, it was time to play for a while. Off I went, blazing down the freeway, constantly rewinding and singing loudly along to Hardship Post’s “Sunshine In My Way.”

I was pleasantly surprised to see how many people were already inside Wayne Manor when I arrived – I’m estimating at least a few hundred kids were there, four hours and five bands before what I figured to be the major draw of the night, the Death and Dismemberment tour. Work ticked me off to no end, since my department was short-handed for the day and I couldn’t get out early enough to make the actual door time of 4:00. Thus, I missed the opening sets by End It, Berwer, and Keleton DMD (who were actually very good, from what I was told by various kids throughout the night).

Anyways, I kicked off my first day of Michigan Fest 2002 with the musical stylings of the LA band Vaz, who whipped out a really noisy, rocking set that was shortened by the drummer’s problem finding a functional bass drum pedal. Chicago’s Haymarket Riot followed up with one of the two truly standout sets I caught Friday night, mixing thudding basslines and angular, intertwined rhythm guitars with intense vocals that, at times, vaguely recalled At the Drive-In. The drummer’s proclamation that “It’s hard to masturbate with the flu” and the singer/guitarists ‘Chuck-Berry-Meets-The-Bangles’ rock-and-roll-like-an-Egyptian antics showed that the band wasn’t exactly short on personality, either. Still, the guys’ actual set spoke volumes louder than their actions, as they tore through a half-hour set that seemed way too short to an audience that was totally drawn into Haymarket Riot.

From there, it was time to experience the Gang of Four influenced, math/noise rock stylings of The Liars. The tall, lanky lead singer came off like Tweaky Dave (yeah, the Springer regular) crossed with former MTV flash-in-the-pan Jesse Camp – with a little Sid Vicious swagger thrown in for good measure. The Liars were tight, crazy, and had enough bounce to make the crowd move. This set was a perfect example of how to win a crowd over with a great noise rock performance (unlike Arab on Radar, whom I’ll discuss in a little bit).

With the intensity level already up, Milemarker came out and ripped out a tight set of new-wave-meets-indie-rock goodness that stood as the best performance of the night. Of course, it was hard not to get into Milemarker with keyboardist/vocalist Roby Newton bouncing around on stage in a strapless pink 50′s style prom dress that made her the prettiest little punk-rock prom queen ever. All drooling aside, though, Milemarker’s performance was completely pimp, as crazy drumming, rock solid bass, and winding, wailing guitar meshed with Newton’s keyboards to create an infectious set.

There is nothing to say about Arab on Radar, other than the fact that their live show was a great representation of what they sound like on disc. My personal disclaimer, of course, is that I think Arab on Radar is terrible. I will admit, though, that there was quite a buzz about the band’s performance throughout the day, and even though no one admitted enjoying Arab on Radar’s set, most of the kids gathered at the Fest seemed pretty intently focused on what the band was pulling off on stage, whether they liked it or not. I guess Arab on Radar weren’t bad for noise rock, but The Liars really pulled off the same routine so much better earlier in the day.

Death Cab for Cutie took the stage next and poured out a 40-minute set of solid, mellow, laid-back indie pop. The interaction between the band’s rhythm guitarists was fluid, and while nothing about Death Cab’s set was particularly eye-popping, the band pulled off a capably ‘lulling’ set without coming off pretentious or boring. The crowd, of course, was totally eating out of Death Cab’s collective hand, singing and swaying along to almost everything the guys pulled out of their musical bag of tricks. The band did pull out one surprise, though, using the last number of their set as a slow burn setup to an extended churn of guitarwork that ended things on a very aggressive note (well, aggressive for Death Cab, anyways).

… And then there was Dismemberment, as the D-Plan took the stage to a very warm reception. As expected, the Plan put on quite an energetic show, though it was surprising to hear frontman Travis Morrison proclaim that MichiganFest was the first ever real ‘Fest’ type of show that the Plan had ever played. Musically, the band was tight as always, with the real highlights being a psychotic reading of “The Dismemberment Plan Gets Rich” and an intensely driven version of “Time Bomb.” There was a cool crowd interaction moment, when Travis invited some members of the crowd up on stage to be his ‘Pips’ during “The Ice of Boston.”

The crowd sang along loudly to “You Are Invited,” which was prefaced by Travis’s recital of a request/note from a young fan who spoke of losing her job after calling off to see the Plan a few months ago. Still, the band did get a bit cheesy towards the end of the set, with indie rapper Cex joining Travis for some extended horseplay during “OK, Joke’s Over.” The song saw Travis copping lines from Tweet’s “Oops!,” with Cex chiming in both freestyle lines and lyrics from the ever beloved rap anthem, “Ass and Titties.” Still, it was obvious that the Plan and Cex were having a good time together on stage, and since that seemed to be the real theme of MichiganFest after all, everyone just smiled and enjoyed the atmosphere.

By this point, it was 12:30 a.m. My feet hurt, my back was killing me, I was hungry, and I just wanted to lie down. Still, I couldn’t wait to see what sorts of entertainment Saturday’s line-up would bring.

Saturday morning, I was up bright and early to run some errands and grab a healthy breakfast to prepare me for the long day ahead. This time, though, I had backup in the form of my Dad, who was surprisingly willing to run the gauntlet of bands for the day in order to see Small Brown Bike and Planes Mistaken for Stars.

Unfortunately, doors opened about 10 minutes late for unspecified reasons, so once we actually got inside of Wayne Manor, our teeth were chattering and our ears were red and tingly thanks to the ugly winds that had picked up outside (though I should mention that the winds only picked up once the line to get in the door was really long – damned Mother Nature).

Dad and I rushed to the stage to greet the guys from Planes Mistaken for Stars while they were sound checking, said our hellos, then settled back a bit for the set. Now, these guys apparently had some scheduling problems in the few days beforehand, so they were literally on 48 hours of no sleep by the time they took the stage. ‘Twas of no consequence to PMfS, though, as they tore through a half-hour set that set a pretty unmatchable intensity precedent for the rest of the day. Gared and Matt’s guitars laced into each other viciously on stage, and every groan or growl that left their mouths seemed even more wounded than the last.

We sorta felt bad for Few and Far Between for having to follow Planes, but the local four-piece held their own with a solid set of emotional rock. Few and Far Between didn’t bother talking much, relying on their music to speak for them. The Arrivals followed with a pretty monotonous set of rock tinged with punk that failed to do much for the crowd. The singer even stopped at one point and related to the apathetic crowd, “I don’t even know how we got on this bill.” The only memorable moment of The Arrivals set came when the lead singer spazzed during the last song and accidentally jammed his mic stand through a few tiles of the drop ceiling.

Casket Lottery was next, and while they were decent, I couldn’t help but be a bit disappointed after the things I’d read and heard about them. I mean, the Lottery’s first song was absolutely incredible, with a dirty, throbbing bassline, psycho drumming, grating guitar work, and screamed, choking vocals that scraped my eardrums in an oh-so-happy way – even Dad spazzed over the first song of the set. From there, though, the band faltered a bit, in part because these guys had been on a similar travel schedule to Planes Mistaken for Stars, only they didn’t seem to be winning the battle as well. Next up was The Honor System tossing out a passable half-hour set of low-key, Bad Religion-esque power pop/punk stuff. The guitar sound was pretty good at times, but overall, the Honor System really didn’t seem to make much of an impression on the Fest crowd.

By this point, Dad and I were pretty tired of standing, so we took a seat at the back of the band room for a few before Inside Five Minutes hit the stage with a set of grooving, Fugazi-meets-the-70′s rock music. The band pulled out a few new songs for the Fest, though of the new material, the intricate guitar work of the band’s closing number seemed to go over the best with the assembled crowd.

I figured Inside Five Minutes would be the hardest rocking band on the Saturday bill, but I must say that, with no disrespect at all meant towards I5M, the Rye Coalition followed by stepping on stage and rocking the pants off MichiganFest. This band had it all – soul, rhythm, and the uncanny ability to showcase both of them while still rocking out like AC/DC on steroids (fitting analogy, since the Coalition did cover “Whole Lotta Rosie”). The singer had a really grainy, growly quality to his voice that automatically upped the intensity level of the entire set in and of itself. The band, of course, kept its power harnessed until the end of the set, at which point the band reeled off a solid 10 minute indie rock anthem complete with killer crushing rhythm guitars, wailed vocals, and one of the most massive extended guitar solos my memory of shows in the last three years can recall.

Once Dad and I finished picking our jaws up off the floor, we headed further stageward to catch the current five-piece line up of Sweep the Leg Johnny. Sweep’s set started pretty slow, as the band’s first song stretched about 10 minutes, with the first six or seven straddling a somewhat annoying free-form jazz-fusion line. From there, though, things picked up nicely, as Sweep’s guitarists cranked up the volume and the rhythm section picked up a more solid backbeat. Hell, even the saxophone was intense for the rest of the set.

Of course, Sweep the Leg Johnny will be remembered the defining moment of MichiganFest 2002 took place at the close of the band’s set. One of the rhythm guitarists climbed atop the rack of speakers set up on one side of the stage, at first laying down on it, then trying to stand upright. Well, the gap between the drop ceiling and the speakers was only about two-and-a-half feet, so he had to dislodge a ceiling tile to stand up. No biggy yet, and the image of this guy half obscured by the ceiling playing a guitar was pretty neat, to be honest. Of course, everyone wants to be cool, and this guy was no exception. He tried to crawl up into the hole from the missing tile, as if to actually stand up inside the ceiling, completely out of view, to finish the song. …Now, anyone who’s seen a drop ceiling before can fill in the blanks as to what happened next. CRACK! CRASH! THUMP! … With the crack being the ceiling giving way, the crash being said guitarist falling through the remnants of that particular portion of ceiling, and the thump being said guitarist bouncing off a few folks and hitting the floor.

Now, no one was hurt – at least, not severely enough to need any sort of medical attention. With that being said, I can sort of giggle about this whole incident. Still, the fact remains that Dad and I watched a grown man who should’ve known better crawl up into a drop ceiling and fall over 15 feet down to a hard floor – and all of this happened about 10 feet in front of us. Flat out, this was STUPID. Suppose this guy would’ve hurt himself badly – or, just as bad, what if one of those kids up front would’ve gotten hurt? This guy fell 15 feet with a heavy guitar strapped to himself. He’s lucky the worst thing that happened was falling through the damned ceiling. I really hope this doesn’t affect Joel of Makoto’s ability to book a venue for MichiganFest next year.

Anyways, the rest of the show proceeded without incident, thankfully, though it was odd staring at the gaping hole in the ceiling with the ceiling fan and the light fixture jutting out of it for the rest of the night. Small Brown Bike didn’t seem to care much about the ceiling, though. They just walked out on stage, picked up their instruments, and rocked out seriously for half an hour. The ‘hometown crowd’ effect was certainly in full bloom here, especially when the majority of the crowd were throwing fists in the air and screaming along to “See You in Hell.” I have yet to see this band put on anything less than a killer show, and my Dad wholeheartedly agrees.

Hey Mercedes followed the local band mayhem with a very crisp and clean set of upbeat emotional rock. The backup singer’s mic died out about two songs into the set, but with the interactive crowd singing along to songs like “Weekend Starts on Wednesday,” it really didn’t make much of a difference.

The dual-guitar interplay of Hey Mercedes was impressive, but in all honesty, it just couldn’t compare to the three guitar metal thunder that Isis followed up with. Simply put, Isis rocked like Black Sabbath on steroids. The vocals were really intermittent, though they were fiercely growled or screamed when they came into the mix. The guitars were most certainly the focus of Isis’s efforts, though, as they wound them through long songs with various ‘pieces.’ I was very happy to see the crowd giving Isis a very good reaction, too, which was certainly well deserved after this set.

The diversity train continued with party music junkies extraordinaire, !!!, who actually did a really nice job of getting the traditionally stoic indie rock crowd to shake their asses for a while. !!!’s set was really boppy, funky and infectious. Unfortunately, this band was a one-trick pony, and after about 25 minutes, their shtick just wore out. Still, !!! did a decent enough job of bringing the crowd back to life after the draining experience of Isis.

So, the Dad and I were excited at this point, as the Dillenger 4 took over the stage reigns and just completely personalitied the living hell out of every other band that had played thus far. Now, the Dillenger 4 were solid as hell on the punk tip – and I’m not talking ‘radio punk’ here, but more along the lines of Husker Du and Minor Threat. It should be noted, though, that the music really didn’t matter. Sure, it was good, and that was a plus, but center stage for the Dillenger 4 went to the antics of the bass player. He spent most of the show dogging the indie rock scene for not ‘shagging’ (substitute a word that rhymes with ‘duck’) as much as ravers, then went off about how the band had signed with Tooth and Nail and would be bringing its message of ‘shag’ to church rectories all over the country this summer. The punch line? “Because God likes to ‘shag’ and we ‘shag’ like Gods!” Man, they may have been rude, crude, and rowdy, but the Dillenger 4 were most certainly also entertaining as hell.

Unfortunately, I have to admit that Dad and I really couldn’t stand to stay for all of Coalesce’s set. I mean, the crowd was fully and completely into Coalesce, thrashing around, screaming the words at the top of their lungs, and generally just flopping around like fish out of water – only doing it in a happy fun way. The best way I could describe Coalesce’s sound is to call it “math rock for heavy metal,” though I’m not sure that’ll make a lot of sense to anyone except myself. This, of course, is simply my personal opinion, as the rest of the Fest crowd was pretty enamored with Coalesce, and the reaction to the band more than justified the headlining spot on Saturday night.

Still, Dad and I could only take so much, so at about 12:30 a.m., we headed off into the night in search of Super Big Gulps and Taco Bell. With the exception of Coalesce and the unintentional suicide attempt of Sweep the Leg Johnny’s guitar player, day two of MichiganFest 2002 was an unquestionable success. I was killing to go to day three, but old age caught up with me Sunday morning, so I decided to catch a matinee of E.T. instead. Yeah, I’m a wussy. Big whoop.

Chris Lindsay Romance – Drunk

Gremio – Bianca’s suitor in Shakespeare’s Taming of the Shrew – speaks of his desire to “woo her, wed her, and bed her.” Such is the quest for many a young songwriter, not to mention the legions of listeners who depend on everyone from Elliot Smith to Barry White as an aural Spanish Fly. Chris Lindsay has his own special recipe for love, a mixture of his poetry set to primarily “ambient” music of his design. After you hear “Drunk” though, you are more likely to feel confused than sexy. While his musical works are numerous and varied, his poetry is even more plentiful, having proliferated throughout much of Canada; and his chapbooks, including the one that “Drunk” is taken from are widely available.

A tinny guitar plucks over and over again with a slight humming with a shy vibrato, slight percussion is layered over this, while a sampled old man (“Drunk again , huh?” “He must be drunk”) is utilized throughout. Lindsay’s vocals are surreal but not as disconnected as Burroughs or Steven Jesse Bernstein. He sounds like someone reading a letter out loud, but as he recites his poem the second time he speaks with more urgency like there is some hidden message that he really wants you to understand. Backwards processed samples wash over you, and then that insistent guitar returns to start the process over again. A bongo roll initiates a decrescendo and “Drunk” comes to its conclusion. The music is pretty “experimental” mainly because it is removed from any unifying context. Part of this is linked to Lindsay’s infuriating classification of his music “Disco,” “Latin,” etc, or his unlikely list of influences (among them, he lists Mel Gibson).

Love has many idiosyncrasies and is usually far removed from the homogenized visions of romance we are inundated with on television. “Drunk” can be seen as a testament to this versatility. Pleasant and carefully static (thanks in part to Lindsay’s subtle looping of organic acoustic sounds), his music is a chipper but personal voice.

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