The Shows:
After a nice, long relaxing nap and a shower, it was time to get to the shows for the night. Tonight would find the first of several departures from my plan to just wing it this year. I knew I had to catch Charlie Mcalister. And this year he had gone mainstream. OK, not really. Anyone who knows Charlie knows that would never happen. But he did have a full band and far less gadgets aside from a stubborn four track cassette deck. His disheveled and maniacal genius was in full swing. At once mind altering and ear defying.
What I’ve been jokingly calling the New York curse has been in full effect this weekend so far. Of course it’s not a curse at all, it’s a blessing. Here’s the deal. Almost every time I walk into a room and say, “wow these guys a great,” I look at their bio and they are from NYC. This happened when I stumbled upon the fantastically punk-campy-cabaret set from I Love You Airlines (Lower East Side, NYC). Then I ran upstairs and caught a bit of Seems So Bright (Brooklyn). A little later it was the ruckus, gritty punk fun of the So So Glos (Brooklyn).
A break from the loud rock fandango was the bluegrass sounds of Wilmington’s own Barnraisers. They may have the obligatory guitar, banjo and upright bass arsenal, but after hearing them play and talking to them, you realize that they’re a bit more unorthodox than a traditional bluegrass band. As they say on their MySpace page, their influences run the gamut from Ralph Stanley to The Pixies which gives them a unique perspective. That and the fact that singer Tiff Reece only picked up the banjo three years ago.
Before my new buddies in Second Dan went on, I had to sneak out for some food. I made my way to that Brooklyn-born pizza joint I referred to earlier. ‘I Love New York Pizza’; the name immediately filled me with doubt years ago when I first stumbled upon it. I’ve had bad experiences with places that call themselves NY anything that are not actually in NY. But my first time in there back then, I heard their accents and when they said they were from Brooklyn, I knew I was safe. I make it a point to eat here as much as possible when I come to town. The slices are smaller now, but that seems to be the case everywhere. Must be a southern thing.
Second Dan’s set was filled with it rock energy mostly thanks the tension and stress brought on by being short a backline. There was a miscomunication that in true WE Fest fashion was worked in time to rock. The energy was off the scale and the crowd grew as they played. One very odd moment was when drummer Sonny hopped off the stage to dance in the crowd along with singer Dan. Dan looked over, saw Sonny but could still hear the drums. This dude called Bear, who went to high school with Sonny and was coincidently in town, had jumped in to take over beat responsibilities.
A great moment at the end of the night, as the guys from So So Glos waited to drive to WE Fest Poobah Kenyata Sullivan’s house, was when I got to talk to their guitarist Alex. At just 19, this kid is pure rock in his music and attitude. Keep in mind that the oldest member of this band of brothers and step-brothers is only 21. We talked about apathy and drudgery that is today’s music scene, especially in NYC. How the slow death of the music scene and the failed martyrdom of Kurt Cobain left those in his generation with a feeling of despair and failure.
“All we were taught was hopelessness,” he said. But talking to Alex and seeing his utter conviction restored my faith in that long-lost revolution. There is hope and it’s more underground than ever. Radio is dead, TV is dead, but we have things like WE Fest and the internet to bring it all together. It’s that true indie, grassroots attitude that has in the past been stifled by the corporate machinery. We still have a ways to go to bring it all together, but I have a feeling that such a gelling is now closer than we think.
Late night pool party
We ended our night with a relaxing little pool party. Well, sorta. This required everyone hopping the fence since the gate was locked. I told them all that my fence-hopping days are long gone. So I stood outside with my beer and watched as my hotelmates frolicked in the cold night water. I was surprised but relieved that no one in the hotel complained. Normally at some point at least the manager of any hotel would come out to break up the fun. But that never happened.
