Mission Of Burma / Fucked Up / Ponytail
East River State Park; Brooklyn, NY

[07-12-2009]

Let's start this review off with some trivial context. McCarren Park Pool, a gigantic, empty, disused outdoor swimming pool in Brooklyn, played host to free rock shows since 2006. But sometime in 2008, the owners decided they wanted to put water in it again. Hipsters, cheapskates, and general music fans were sad. Then the promoters quickly figured out a way to move the whole shebang a few blocks away to a new state park on the East River and decided to keep calling shows "pool parties."

This show, with Mission of Burma, Fucked Up, and Ponytail, was the first Pool Party without a pool, and it lived up to its forebears admirably.

I almost wrote off Ponytail as nothing more than magnet school kids haphazardly fucking around with wild vocalizations and delay pedals, but I'm a believer now: at this show, the funk pushed through the noise, the hooks revealed themselves as actual hooks, and singer Molly Siegel's yelps largely blended into the mix as yet another joyous sound. Their music and attitude, as it turns out, are perfect for outdoor shows on beautiful days overlooking horribly polluted rivers. As long as people are willing to believe that a band that sounds like OOIOO could come from Baltimore, then there's no reason Ponytail can't be as big as all outdoors.

Fucked Up were up next, and with a largely stationary and unremarkable presence from everyone but lead singer Pink Eyes, it's hard not to compare their live show to Les Savy Fav's. To be fair, they managed to play like grownup hardcore kids without losing its sense of purpose, and Pink Eyes' smart-guy-doing-stupid-shit routine is worth whatever the price of admission happens to be. After watching them struggle to mesh with the implications of a sunny outdoor performance, I fear only that their newfound Eastern European nu-metal fame (they recently opened for Korn in Serbia) will mean that we've missed our chance to see them tear up dank basements.

Mission of Burma sidestepped the possibility of a comparatively predictable set by playing mainly new songs likely destined for their recently announced upcoming album, The Sound The Speed The Light. While the new songs were good, they were obviously not what the crowd was in the mood to hear. Judging by the reaction that even "Spider's Web" received, the audience would have been perfectly pleased with a set comprised solely of Onoffon and The Obliterati tracks. But that was not to be. If they come back to Brooklyn next year and play the same set, they'll probably have the slightly aging hipsters slurping it down like Jamba Juice and gin, but after a long day of drinking in the sun, the new tracks bled together too much to deliver a truly memorable experience.

If anything stood out from the set, it was Bob Weston's performance on tape loops. While his reversed vocals and spliced-up guitar can sometimes clutter up a perfectly good rock ‘n’ roll performance, he masterfully thickened up Roger Miller's guitar solos this time, providing incisive stabs of noise at only the most opportune moments.

Before ripping into "Photograph," which continues to somewhat surprisingly assert itself as the most crowd-pleasing of Burma live tracks, Clint Conley exhorted the crowd to shuffle over to Spike Hill for a Future of the Left show following the Pool Party festivities. Future of the Left, of course, proceeded to decimate the day's previous performers, but that's a story for another day.

[Photo: Kelly Davidson]

Wilco / Yo La Tengo
Keyspan Park; Coney Island, NY

[07-13-2009]

Playing outdoors at Coney Island’s Keyspan Park, Wilco’s past lurked just behind the grandstand.

One block from the stadium lay the street where Woody Guthrie lived and scrawled lyrics eventually sung on Wilco’s Mermaid Avenue. The album became Wilco’s first major step out of the shadow of singer Jeff Tweedy’s first band, Uncle Tupelo, and freed him to follow his own sonic course, a famously troubled one. This was Wilco’s first New York City appearance since the drug overdose of former member Jay Bennett, conspicuous in his absence since being let go after Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, the band’s widely accepted classic.

But from the first muddy, chugging chords of “Wilco (The Song),” off the band’s new album of Americana-inflected rock, no one within the friendly confines seemed too sentimental. At its core, the show celebrated the band as it stands. During “California Stars,” one of only two old Mermaid Avenue songs in the band’s set, Tweedy even forgot some of the lyrics.

The florescent pink Wonder Wheel turned slowly over Left Field, JFK-bound planes drifted behind the Parachute Jump’s flashing red lights, and Wilco managed the lineup’s current balancing act: mixing quiet, pretty folk music with eruptions of atonal noise, precise rhythms, bluesy jams, and even soul. Sometimes these elements fought for air within a single song, as with the band’s beautiful rendition of Sky Blue Sky’s “You Are My Face.”

After Bennett's departure, the vacuum was filled by Nels Cline, a virtuoso guitarist. Bennett's talents for pop songwriting and arrangement were replaced with Cline’s passionate bluesy riffs and visceral noise. In a black shirt and bright red pants, the lead guitarist often stole Jeff Tweedy’s spotlight. During A Ghost Is Born’s “Handshake Drugs,” Cline stabbed at his guitar with a unique violence, strangling from his instrument notes that squealed and hissed. On “Impossible Germany,” his guitar work suddenly became angular and limber, reminiscent of another guitar god, Tom Verlaine. He filled “Jesus, etc” with yawning slide guitar before achieving his greatest musical violence in “Misunderstood,” the only song performed from 1996’ Being There. During the song, he whipped his hand off the strings, as if angrily igniting a chainsaw.

Tweedy had plenty of his own moments. He sounds entirely at ease within his songs. His raspy voice hushed quiet sweetness one moment and screamed for “Something in my veins/ Bloodier than blood,” on “Shot In The Arm” the next, as if he were still in the desperate throes of addiction (he kicked a prescription drug habit years ago). His banter (“You guys really look good. I’m not just saying that.”) kept the audience buttered up, as he embraced his inner showmen, leading the crowd in a rendition of “Take Me Out To The Ballgame” and briefly lifting his guitar to play it behind his head during “I’m The Man Who Loves You.” Tweedy was the portrait of a serious musician, trying his hardest to not take anything very seriously.

Wilco gets grief from the press for being too predictable, but no boredom could be detected in the thousands of happy attendees, nor in the performers. Indeed, it was almost anti-climactic when Leslie Feist and Grizzly Bear’s Ed Droste joined Wilco on stage. Their contributions were barely notable, as if swallowed up by the momentum Wilco had steadied over their two-hour-long, free flowing, consistently excellent set. Wilco has emerged from years of drama to become a truly great band, even if a predictable one, with little use for guest stars.

Yo La Tengo, whom Tweedy called “one of the greatest bands ever” when they joined Wilco onstage, opened the concert with a fantastic daylight set, but their casually dressed bodies could barely be detected between the metallic glare of amps and equipment coming offstage. Rather than match Wilco’s finely tuned showmanship, the three-piece band achieved epic transcendence by turning in on themselves. Their closing song, a 10-minute-long “The Story Of Yo La Tengo,” found them basking in washes of distortion and propulsive rhythm, their backs nearly turned on the crowd. They seemed self-assured. The audience could fend for themselves.

Ottawa Bluesfest: Days 3-5
July 10-12, 2009;

[July 10-12, 2009]

[PREVIOUS | NEXT]

- {Day 3}

The third day of the festival opened with some weak Canadian radio fodder in {The Stills} and some Pelican/Isis-type instrumental work from {City of a Hundred Spires}. {The Dodos} were pumping out their brand of indie rock for a young crowd on a side stage. But the first true show of the evening was {Okkervil River}, all the way from Austin, Texas. The audience was a nice size despite the light showers, and they were receptive to the band's light and poppy indie rock. They were perfect for a slowly setting sun.

Meanwhile on the main stage, {Carlos Verada} was serenading the audience in Spanish while {Sam Roberts} set up on the other big stage. Roberts is a Canadian icon, and the large audience that showed up was excited to see him power through his set. The real destination for tonight, though, was {Steve Earle} (pictured) on a side stage. The size of the crowd swelled right to the stage entrance, and after a few minutes, it was clear 98% were proper fans. The other 2% were impatiently waiting for Copperhead Road, and Earle dealt with them appropriately. Earle ran through most of his hits and a smattering of tunes off his latest album covering Townes Van Zandt songs. Earle managed to keep the political stuff held off until the end, but once he got started, it was hard for him to stop. Thankfully, there was a bus to catch, but I was reluctant to leave despite the political grandstanding. He's a proper songwriter, whether or not his style is for you.

----

- {Day 4}

On the fourth day, the torrential rains came, conquered, and pissed off in quick succession, leaving behind {Cotton Jones} in their wake and handed the job of conquering the hearts of early-evening festival goers on Saturday. Conquering may have been a daunting task, but impressing the crowd on hand was easy work for the increasingly Americana-tinged outfit from ex-Page France leader Michael Nau. For reasons unknown, a smaller-scale band was expected for this show -- possibly even the duo of Nau and Whitney McGraw -- but they were six strong and sounded down-to-earth smooth, playing many a song from their excellent Paranoid Cocoon album. All good stuff, but highlights included incredible renditions of “I Am the Changer” and “Blood Red Sentimental Blues.”

After sifting through crowds and taking in a few tracks each from Aussie legends {The Church}, straight-up rocky blues from {Cedric Burnside and Lightnin’ Malcolm}, and some lightweight Grey’s Anatomy soundtrack fare from {Rachael Yamagata}, we chanced upon a down-home acoustic set by {The Punch Brothers} (pictured). This experimental bluegrass quartet -- led by mandolin virtuoso, Nickel Creek veteran, and Jude Law look-alike Chris Thile -- sounded fantastic standing front stage around two vintage mics on the smallest back(woods) stage on the festival grounds. The White Stripes' “Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground” and the first part of Thile’s 40-minute suite “The Blind Leaving the Blind” stuck out as particularly strong. Holders of the bluegrass flame should start marketing this quintet big time, because we like the sound of slick “new bluegrass” over stale “new country” any day.

When {Hey Rosetta} were first added to the lineup, the organizers put them at 2 PM on a Saturday afternoon, which guarantees only the hardcore and family will show up. The organizers must of realized what a firecracker they had on their hands, because the band was moved up to 7 PM on the same day, essentially opening for Brian Setzer. Professional doesn't even begin to describe Hey Rosetta: with 6 members on stage, nobody missed a beat, and the segues between songs were short (and planned). Their variety of upbeat indie rock might inspire someone to make an Arcade Fire connection, but it would be unfounded. Hey Rosetta are a lot more upbeat, and slightly more traditional, but the complete package was phenomenal.

There was no way to anticipate {Ya Ho Wha 13}, but in hindsight it was exactly what the band would want, had some thought been put into it. Entering the indoor theatre in customary robes, Djin Aquarian, Octavius Aquarian, and Sunflower Aquarian set about destroying eardrums by seemingly playing three distinct noise patterns before settling into extreme acid rock grooves and visual trippiness. Technical difficulties aside (the bass side was coming and going throughout the first half of the show), Ya Ho Wha 13 provided a concrete side to their mysterious abstract cult. Everything done was in devoted tribute to spiritual leader and friend Father Yod, who departed from this world in 1975, from direct shout-outs to inspired avant-leaning psychedelic movements.

----

- {Day 5}

What can you say about {King Khan and BBQ Show} that hasn’t been said about all great rock ‘n’ roll acts before. Primitive, raw, and entertaining as hell, the duo managed to kick up more dirt and laughs than most modern acts around. Their stage presence is one-of-a-kind, and musically they just embody the rock spirit. In between killer songs, both original garage rave-ups and choice covers (among them a sweet version of The Stones’ “Out of Time”), Khan and Show kicked the crowd into gleeful submission, despite the four separate rainstorms that failed to dampen the crowd’s enthusiasm. Kahn was especially in good spirits, stuck-walking around the stage in German pith helmet and trying his luck with death metal vox. BBQ Show was a marvel as well, singing, playing guitar, AND keeping time on a snare and bass drum affixed to each foot. This stood as one of the better and most effective shows of the day, but it warmed up the crowd for the upcoming set on the same stage, which would turn out to be one of the more memorable shows of the festival thus far.

Expectations were high for {Girl Talk}'s show, but not for the music itself. Rumours of being naked by the end of the set made their way through the crowd, as two laptops were set up on stage wrapped in plastic to prevent the rain from ruining them. A slow drone started to wrap up the crowd as it grew increasingly intense, until Greg Gillis (pictured) burst from the back of the stage, lept off it, and ran up the center area giving everyone high fives. His brightly-colored assistants had crept out from the sides and were covering the audience in toilet paper shot off the end of leaf blowers. Balloons filled with confetti were floated over the audience until they burst, and pre-filled beach balls were tossed into the crowd after about 10 minutes. It was chaos. Security had to deal with crowd surfers, people climbing scaffolding, girls getting crushed up front, and on stage, Gillis had assembled a group of 20 teenagers to dance constantly behind him. This writer managed to sneak his way up the side and snake his way into that crowd of 20 people. Top 5 concert experiences ever. For an hour and a half, Gillis played everything from "Jump," to "Lightning Crashes," to some dirty south tracks with hilariously direct lyrics. Innuendo is passé. As the show progressed, Gillis removed layers of clothing, but stopped once he was shirtless with just sweatpants on. As the show came to a close, the crowd chanted for an extra 5 fruitless minutes for Girl Talk to come back, but the stage had to be set up for Ani Difranco. A set for which we have no coverage.

[Photos: munroe]

[PREVIOUS | NEXT]

Ottawa Bluesfest: Days 3-5
July 10-12, 2009;

[July 10-12, 2009]

[PREVIOUS | NEXT]

- {Day 3}

The third day of the festival opened with some weak Canadian radio fodder in {The Stills} and some Pelican/Isis-type instrumental work from {City of a Hundred Spires}. {The Dodos} were pumping out their brand of indie rock for a young crowd on a side stage. But the first true show of the evening was {Okkervil River}, all the way from Austin, Texas. The audience was a nice size despite the light showers, and they were receptive to the band's light and poppy indie rock. They were perfect for a slowly setting sun.

Meanwhile on the main stage, {Carlos Verada} was serenading the audience in Spanish while {Sam Roberts} set up on the other big stage. Roberts is a Canadian icon, and the large audience that showed up was excited to see him power through his set. The real destination for tonight, though, was {Steve Earle} (pictured) on a side stage. The size of the crowd swelled right to the stage entrance, and after a few minutes, it was clear 98% were proper fans. The other 2% were impatiently waiting for Copperhead Road, and Earle dealt with them appropriately. Earle ran through most of his hits and a smattering of tunes off his latest album covering Townes Van Zandt songs. Earle managed to keep the political stuff held off until the end, but once he got started, it was hard for him to stop. Thankfully, there was a bus to catch, but I was reluctant to leave despite the political grandstanding. He's a proper songwriter, whether or not his style is for you.

----

- {Day 4}

On the fourth day, the torrential rains came, conquered, and pissed off in quick succession, leaving behind {Cotton Jones} in their wake and handed the job of conquering the hearts of early-evening festival goers on Saturday. Conquering may have been a daunting task, but impressing the crowd on hand was easy work for the increasingly Americana-tinged outfit from ex-Page France leader Michael Nau. For reasons unknown, a smaller-scale band was expected for this show -- possibly even the duo of Nau and Whitney McGraw -- but they were six strong and sounded down-to-earth smooth, playing many a song from their excellent Paranoid Cocoon album. All good stuff, but highlights included incredible renditions of “I Am the Changer” and “Blood Red Sentimental Blues.”

After sifting through crowds and taking in a few tracks each from Aussie legends {The Church}, straight-up rocky blues from {Cedric Burnside and Lightnin’ Malcolm}, and some lightweight Grey’s Anatomy soundtrack fare from {Rachael Yamagata}, we chanced upon a down-home acoustic set by {The Punch Brothers} (pictured). This experimental bluegrass quartet -- led by mandolin virtuoso, Nickel Creek veteran, and Jude Law look-alike Chris Thile -- sounded fantastic standing front stage around two vintage mics on the smallest back(woods) stage on the festival grounds. The White Stripes' “Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground” and the first part of Thile’s 40-minute suite “The Blind Leaving the Blind” stuck out as particularly strong. Holders of the bluegrass flame should start marketing this quintet big time, because we like the sound of slick “new bluegrass” over stale “new country” any day.

When {Hey Rosetta} were first added to the lineup, the organizers put them at 2 PM on a Saturday afternoon, which guarantees only the hardcore and family will show up. The organizers must of realized what a firecracker they had on their hands, because the band was moved up to 7 PM on the same day, essentially opening for Brian Setzer. Professional doesn't even begin to describe Hey Rosetta: with 6 members on stage, nobody missed a beat, and the segues between songs were short (and planned). Their variety of upbeat indie rock might inspire someone to make an Arcade Fire connection, but it would be unfounded. Hey Rosetta are a lot more upbeat, and slightly more traditional, but the complete package was phenomenal.

There was no way to anticipate {Ya Ho Wha 13}, but in hindsight it was exactly what the band would want, had some thought been put into it. Entering the indoor theatre in customary robes, Djin Aquarian, Octavius Aquarian, and Sunflower Aquarian set about destroying eardrums by seemingly playing three distinct noise patterns before settling into extreme acid rock grooves and visual trippiness. Technical difficulties aside (the bass side was coming and going throughout the first half of the show), Ya Ho Wha 13 provided a concrete side to their mysterious abstract cult. Everything done was in devoted tribute to spiritual leader and friend Father Yod, who departed from this world in 1975, from direct shout-outs to inspired avant-leaning psychedelic movements.

----

- {Day 5}

What can you say about {King Khan and BBQ Show} that hasn’t been said about all great rock ‘n’ roll acts before. Primitive, raw, and entertaining as hell, the duo managed to kick up more dirt and laughs than most modern acts around. Their stage presence is one-of-a-kind, and musically they just embody the rock spirit. In between killer songs, both original garage rave-ups and choice covers (among them a sweet version of The Stones’ “Out of Time”), Khan and Show kicked the crowd into gleeful submission, despite the four separate rainstorms that failed to dampen the crowd’s enthusiasm. Kahn was especially in good spirits, stuck-walking around the stage in German pith helmet and trying his luck with death metal vox. BBQ Show was a marvel as well, singing, playing guitar, AND keeping time on a snare and bass drum affixed to each foot. This stood as one of the better and most effective shows of the day, but it warmed up the crowd for the upcoming set on the same stage, which would turn out to be one of the more memorable shows of the festival thus far.

Expectations were high for {Girl Talk}'s show, but not for the music itself. Rumours of being naked by the end of the set made their way through the crowd, as two laptops were set up on stage wrapped in plastic to prevent the rain from ruining them. A slow drone started to wrap up the crowd as it grew increasingly intense, until Greg Gillis (pictured) burst from the back of the stage, lept off it, and ran up the center area giving everyone high fives. His brightly-colored assistants had crept out from the sides and were covering the audience in toilet paper shot off the end of leaf blowers. Balloons filled with confetti were floated over the audience until they burst, and pre-filled beach balls were tossed into the crowd after about 10 minutes. It was chaos. Security had to deal with crowd surfers, people climbing scaffolding, girls getting crushed up front, and on stage, Gillis had assembled a group of 20 teenagers to dance constantly behind him. This writer managed to sneak his way up the side and snake his way into that crowd of 20 people. Top 5 concert experiences ever. For an hour and a half, Gillis played everything from "Jump," to "Lightning Crashes," to some dirty south tracks with hilariously direct lyrics. Innuendo is passé. As the show progressed, Gillis removed layers of clothing, but stopped once he was shirtless with just sweatpants on. As the show came to a close, the crowd chanted for an extra 5 fruitless minutes for Girl Talk to come back, but the stage had to be set up for Ani Difranco. A set for which we have no coverage.

[Photos: munroe]

[PREVIOUS | NEXT]

Jackie-O Motherfucker / Dragging An Ox Through Water / Jazzfinger
Star & Shadow; Newcastle Upon Tyne, UK

[07-08-2009]

I arrived a little late for the opening set from locals Onoma, but I was happy I didn't miss Jazzfinger. Conjuring weird synthetic/earthen feelings -- submerged and lushly monolithic -- the set focused on ultra-low-frequency free-noise with bass-heavy rumbles to create natural rhythmic patterns. It was an astonishingly immersive set. Afterward, Dragging An Ox Through Water (the solo project of Brian Mumford from Jackie-O) hit the stage, taking Dirty Projectors-style vocal gusto and backing it with various textures of harsh ambience and fake blues riffs to create some truly skewed pop/folk. With a wide selection of pedals and other weird contraptions (including one that made sound in correspondence to the flicker of a nearby candle), his splicing of noise and pop linearity made his set the all-round surprise of the night

And then on came Jackie-O Motherfucker. The group is from Portland, OR, but the American mythos buried in its rock seems much more widespread. Such is the success of Jackie-O's heavily majestic, drone-oriented rock, especially when heard by British ears. Here, in the context of Newcastle's always-endearing Star & Shadow cinema, their oblique, desert-inspired riffage flourished in front of a mid-sized audience.

Jackie-O are at their best when splitting time between their free-jazz and free-noise approaches, when embracing both burnt-put sonics and more fluid sounds. But since they were without Valet/Honey Owens (whose distinct evocations are easily heard on the the new Ballad Of The Revolution LP) tonight, there was a proclivity towards more band-oriented structures. But the set still maintained a comfortable balance between rigidness and exploration, gaining even more immediacy because of the low-key setting. Dragging An Ox Through Water might have upstaged Jackie-O's set, but it was still a perfect way to end the night.

Ottawa Bluesfest: Days 1 and 2
July 8-9, 2009;

[July 8-9, 2009]

[NEXT]

The Ottawa Bluesfest has been a yearly tradition in the Nation's Capital since 1994, slowly amassing a yearly attendance of close to 300,000 people over a 12-day period. In 2002, the organizers started putting out invitations to "big" acts that rest outside the Blues canon, including Bob Dylan, The White Stripes, Van Morrison, Steve Miller, Kanye West, Brian Wilson, Snoop Dogg, Primus, and Donna Summer. This year's big names include KISS, Jeff Beck, Stone Temple Pilots, Ice Cube, The Dead Weather, Girl Talk, Ornette Coleman, and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs.

----

- {Day 1}

On opening night {The Black Keys} (pictured) rolled into town and people took notice, arrived early, crammed front stage, and were rewarded with an absolutely blinding set from Akron's finest. Although Patrick Carney was a sight, smashing away on his risen kit and carefully examining his sticks for splits between each song, Dan Auerbach blew the minds of everyone in attendance with tons of emotion, very little attitude, and a whole lot of noise. The duo's mastery of volume was truly inspirational; everyone knows they can deliver loud and heavy blues, but their ability to switch seamlessly to quieter song pieces on a dime is just as spectacular. As impressive is the unbelievable instinctual playing of Auerbach and Carney. Besides a couple of quick words to discuss song order, the two barely looked in the other's direction, which is astounding given the ample meandering that characterize each of their Sabbath-meets-White Stripes blues explosions like "The Break," "Thickfreakness," "Stack Shot Billy," "No Trust," and "Psychotic Girl." Revelatory and remarkable, The Black Keys was stoned, dirty escapism at its very best -- and the best way to really kick off this year's Bluesfest.

{Tympanic} were playing on a side stage, and their brand of Sublime-influenced ska/punk/funk was a poppy way to enjoy a setting sun over the Ottawa River. More than one artist has commented on the gorgeous setting of the festival, which resides on the bank of the Ottawa River on a huge patch of green space owned and operated by the National Capital Commission. The Subway stage in particular backs on to open water, and any artist performing there has an unobstructed view.

Given the large site area and number of stages, one of the givens with attending Bluesfest is the healthy embracing of your inner nomad. Stopping briefly at Jeff Beck's slick six-string main stage show, then taking in a few stolen moments of straight-faced jazz-prog with Peter Hammill and his Van der Graaf Generator, the final destination of the night was at an out-of-the-way stage to see {Sergent Garcia}'s mad sideshow. Heading a heaving band that included a flautist, pianist, a bunch of brass, trap drummer, bass, and all on vocals, Garcia took the often staid Ottawa crowd and whipped it into a loose frenzy with a culture-mixing set that embraced reggae, rap, salsa, Cuban, Jamaican and African rhythms, and Latin percussion music. I am not sure if I will ever see, much less hear, Sergent Garcia again, but they were the perfect festival fodder choice. The organizers knew it too, immediately booking the band to a free downtown show the following night.

----

- {Day 2}

Outside of a few diversions in the {Brothers Chaffey} and {Sista Monica}, the second day started with {Holy Fuck} (pictured), the four-piece from Toronto that lays down a thick groove with a bevy of cheap keyboards/toys fed through filters and pedals. Unfortunately because of questionable acts booked on the same stage, I think there was some Iron and Wine fans put off by all the racket. Holy Fuck pressed on regardless, pumping out variations of songs on both their LPs, and there was a smattering of material from the new album, which sounds like it's going to be a funky good time. During the closer, the four built to a crescendo in "Lovely Allen" for what seemed like 10 minutes, but the explosion of noise that followed moved everyone that was previously stoic to join the dance party.

The prospect of frolicking in a field of Emily Haines clones notwithstanding, {Iron & Wine}'s show was about to begin on a nearby stage. So nearby, in fact, that Haines' Metric bled over into Sam Beam's quiet and reflective set (Beam likened it to being in a car at a stoplight, trying to talk about "bills and picking the kids up," next to a deafening tinted-windowed Escalade). Fortunately, Metric finished early and Beam was able to bless the remaining faithful with a show that was light on festival showmanship and heavy on presenting his labyrinthine stories. Beginning with "The Trapeze Swinger," Beam played a wonderful gig that included one new track among many live favorites ("Naked As We Came," "Jezebel"), all done in his inimitable style. As always, his playing was impeccably honest and his maze-like words begged for individual interpretation. With the sun setting on the Ottawa River, Iron & Wine's first appearance in the city gave the crowd a rare chance to celebrate a beautiful repertoire by a special performer.

While Iron & Wine was on one of the smaller stages, others were pressed up close on the big stage witnessing {Ben Harper and the Relentless7} power-drive their way through crunchy blues and straight-up hard rock. The lack of a large library of recorded music meant the band had to fill in with some covers, and they did so aptly with some Zeppelin and Queen's "Under Pressure" (which somebody in the audience laughably called the "Vanilla Ice Song"). The Relentless7 themselves are capable musicians, but it's apparent they're studio players. They're just too clean. Contrastingly, Harper bleeds music, which is apparent in both his stage presence and actual playing. I've never seen anybody rock out so hard with their ass in a chair.

[Photos: munroe]

[NEXT]