Bands of summer '08
Diplo + Santogold (7/20 @ Summerstage)
A scorching day, with sweat-sodden hipsters lugging along industry-standard, earth-friendly water bottles of Swedish design. The heat and crowding put the audience on edge. There exists a vague sentiment that Santogold is worth enduring the wait, but this is based only on music journals mentioning her as heir apparent to the impossible M.I.A. throne. Hipster tats are in full display, though most of the crowd is ill-prepared for the heat and mills about the beer tent uneasily. I run into other disappointed youth and leave hours before Santogold is set to take the stage. The Met is too long a walk, but admittance is free, and O! the air-conditioning.
Memorable moment: Those first beats of "Paper Planes" play, and the crowd is enthused to hear- oh, it's just Diplo talking over the beat. Quiet, Diplo.
Akron/Family (7/24 @ Castle Clinton)
Arriving early into the set, the venue is packed to capacity. The park reverberates with joyous noise, and the Family has things in high gear. The band loves you, and you love the band. There is call-and-response, hand-claps and shouts, whoops and murmurs. Almost no one is taking out their cameras because they know this moment will not fit their iPhones. Facial hair is dense and ironic, but none of it detracts from the band's energy. They play off the crowd, who don headbands and let loose dances repressed beyond the studies of anthropology grad students. There forms a circle of overexposed action in the arena, where the last vestiges of shame are thrown off, along with a V-neck of American Apparel origin. A night for the ages.
Memorable moment: After an encore and impromptu beatboxing, the band teaches their hippie lovechildren their new song, "I Want to Live (In Woodie Guthrie's America)." There is momentary confusion, but the audience is soon rising up with fists and smiles.
Black Lips, Deerhunter, King Kahn & His Shrines, Tall Firs (8/3 @ McCarren Park)
Typical McCarren madness. Brooklynites celebrate the thick of summer with bikinis and gratuitous ink display. Joined by bewildered foreigners, the pool regains some of its lost charm- "You mean people do this every weekend?" The stage is a centerpiece but hardly commanding attention, as people make themselves conspicuous in a really hip faux-unintentional way. Water guns are dispensed, overdressed women pelt each other with dodgeballs. It is unclear which band is who, but there is a lot of funk, as well as an inexplicable dancer with pom-poms and a very limited repertoire.
Memorable moment: Trash is thrown onstage at the behest of a man in a gold loincloth, only for him to hurl it back at his unsuspecting serfs of funk.
Headlights (8/6 @ Brooklyn Bridge Park)
An ensemble reminiscent of Bishop Allen and a sound evocative of someone my brain can't put its finger on. Most songs were instrumental-heavy, but the dreamy pop vocals were refreshing. One girl appeared to have been a Number One Myspace True Fan, mouthing lyrics the band had barely written. The band's emotional shifts are mirrored by a reel of clouds breaking onscreen behind them. Someone from the Brooklyn Bridge Park Conservancy threw a beach ball into the bewildered, largely stationary crowd. The ball winds up at the feet of a grim bassist, who must twice throw the ball out into a crowd with poor upper-body strength. Thanks, Brooklyn Bridge Park Conservancy. The night was lovely, perhaps lending itself too much to mingling and taking in The Falls and very little attention paid to the music. The energy is diffuse, spreading from the tent to the shore, and to the Powerhouse Arena bookstore up the block.
Memorable moment: Closing with twin kindergarten-aged girls jumping in unison, edging dangerously near the bassist.
The Lillapucians, Hung Like Jesus (8/10 @ Club Rehab)
A small venue with ample space for standing and leaning, with the acoustics of a lint trap and the ambiance of a bar mitzvah. The sound was muffled, perhaps by the weight of attendees' trig homework stacked on the left speaker. The audience was still as the grave, and Hung Like Jesus was noticeably insecure. They were followed by the Uppertiers, young men who totally looklike they belong in a band. There was a lot of yelling, including the phrase "Remember the sound." I left shortly thereafter, though all patrons and preformers were escorted out promptly in anticipation of Happy Hour. Cute girls abound, though, many with bright college prospects.
Memorable moment: Bubu discovering 4-dollar, inch-thick pizza at the place next door. Made the day, no doubt.
Radiohead, The Dead Kennedys, etc. (8/11 @ All Points West)
Just kidding!
A scorching day, with sweat-sodden hipsters lugging along industry-standard, earth-friendly water bottles of Swedish design. The heat and crowding put the audience on edge. There exists a vague sentiment that Santogold is worth enduring the wait, but this is based only on music journals mentioning her as heir apparent to the impossible M.I.A. throne. Hipster tats are in full display, though most of the crowd is ill-prepared for the heat and mills about the beer tent uneasily. I run into other disappointed youth and leave hours before Santogold is set to take the stage. The Met is too long a walk, but admittance is free, and O! the air-conditioning.
Memorable moment: Those first beats of "Paper Planes" play, and the crowd is enthused to hear- oh, it's just Diplo talking over the beat. Quiet, Diplo.
Akron/Family (7/24 @ Castle Clinton)
Arriving early into the set, the venue is packed to capacity. The park reverberates with joyous noise, and the Family has things in high gear. The band loves you, and you love the band. There is call-and-response, hand-claps and shouts, whoops and murmurs. Almost no one is taking out their cameras because they know this moment will not fit their iPhones. Facial hair is dense and ironic, but none of it detracts from the band's energy. They play off the crowd, who don headbands and let loose dances repressed beyond the studies of anthropology grad students. There forms a circle of overexposed action in the arena, where the last vestiges of shame are thrown off, along with a V-neck of American Apparel origin. A night for the ages.
Memorable moment: After an encore and impromptu beatboxing, the band teaches their hippie lovechildren their new song, "I Want to Live (In Woodie Guthrie's America)." There is momentary confusion, but the audience is soon rising up with fists and smiles.
Black Lips, Deerhunter, King Kahn & His Shrines, Tall Firs (8/3 @ McCarren Park)
Typical McCarren madness. Brooklynites celebrate the thick of summer with bikinis and gratuitous ink display. Joined by bewildered foreigners, the pool regains some of its lost charm- "You mean people do this every weekend?" The stage is a centerpiece but hardly commanding attention, as people make themselves conspicuous in a really hip faux-unintentional way. Water guns are dispensed, overdressed women pelt each other with dodgeballs. It is unclear which band is who, but there is a lot of funk, as well as an inexplicable dancer with pom-poms and a very limited repertoire.
Memorable moment: Trash is thrown onstage at the behest of a man in a gold loincloth, only for him to hurl it back at his unsuspecting serfs of funk.
Headlights (8/6 @ Brooklyn Bridge Park)
An ensemble reminiscent of Bishop Allen and a sound evocative of someone my brain can't put its finger on. Most songs were instrumental-heavy, but the dreamy pop vocals were refreshing. One girl appeared to have been a Number One Myspace True Fan, mouthing lyrics the band had barely written. The band's emotional shifts are mirrored by a reel of clouds breaking onscreen behind them. Someone from the Brooklyn Bridge Park Conservancy threw a beach ball into the bewildered, largely stationary crowd. The ball winds up at the feet of a grim bassist, who must twice throw the ball out into a crowd with poor upper-body strength. Thanks, Brooklyn Bridge Park Conservancy. The night was lovely, perhaps lending itself too much to mingling and taking in The Falls and very little attention paid to the music. The energy is diffuse, spreading from the tent to the shore, and to the Powerhouse Arena bookstore up the block.
Memorable moment: Closing with twin kindergarten-aged girls jumping in unison, edging dangerously near the bassist.
The Lillapucians, Hung Like Jesus (8/10 @ Club Rehab)
A small venue with ample space for standing and leaning, with the acoustics of a lint trap and the ambiance of a bar mitzvah. The sound was muffled, perhaps by the weight of attendees' trig homework stacked on the left speaker. The audience was still as the grave, and Hung Like Jesus was noticeably insecure. They were followed by the Uppertiers, young men who totally looklike they belong in a band. There was a lot of yelling, including the phrase "Remember the sound." I left shortly thereafter, though all patrons and preformers were escorted out promptly in anticipation of Happy Hour. Cute girls abound, though, many with bright college prospects.
Memorable moment: Bubu discovering 4-dollar, inch-thick pizza at the place next door. Made the day, no doubt.
Radiohead, The Dead Kennedys, etc. (8/11 @ All Points West)
Just kidding!