I saw in your tour diary that you’re reading Berlin, a book about WWII. I thought was kind of fitting. Listening to Travels With Myself and Another, there’s a lot of battle imagery in the lyrics. Are you a history buff?

I’m not so much a history buff—there are areas of history I’m interested in like, you know, particularly the world wars or the 19th century. I’ve got a particular interest in Nixon, for whatever reason. He’s just such a fascinating character to read about. Far more interesting than reading about a Kennedy just because of the insane dynamics of his personality more than anything. There’s no explicit mission to imbue the record with a certain military history. [Laughs] if it comes across that way I guess maybe yeah, I’m a geek for all that.

You just never realized it.

Yeah, maybe this conversation is a turning point for me!

So the next album is going to be a big rock opera based on Nixon and Watergate.

I don’t think the world’s ready for that. And if the world is ready for that, I’m moving planets.

And speaking of Future of the Left and how funny they are, the award for best Block Party stage-banter goes to the band's bassist, Kelson, who was responsible for these gems:

Regarding the amount of wristbands they had to wear:

"I have more wristbands than a fuckin' Motley Crue groupie. I have less STDs, though."

Regarding the amount of sweat dripping down his entire body:

"I feel like an elephant has come on me."

Funny? Talented? Badass? Swoon.

Future of the Left photo by Mei Lewis.

Here's the band playing a new song, "Slow Motion," featuring an appearance by the very enthusiastic dancer who just about stole the show...

Slats shirt by Curt Doughty. All other photos by Kelly O. This post was originally published Sunday.

Big music festivals typically make it hard to focus on the actual music. With so many people of so many types converging, the event becomes a perpetual parade of human quirks, foibles, aesthetic atrocities, physical beauties, frequent accidental frottage, and slogan-emblazoned T-shirts that overwhelms the senses. Throw hot weather and its attendant skimpy attire into the equation, and you practically need monk-like devotion to properly assess the sounds on display. To quote Larry Mizell Jr.’s Line Out post from yesterday, “You feel my fuckin’ struggle?”

I thought not. Anyway, on to the critiques, such as they are, despite all the distractions.

On the Vera Stage, Wild Orchid Children’s singer looked like Andrew W.K., sang like Adrock, and wore a Run DMC T-shirt. One of the band’s guitarists sported a Doug Henning mustache and donned a brown leather vest. Another local music writer described a shaker-enhanced song as “‘Sabotage’ meets Santana,” and nailed it. WOC play Baby Boomer-endorsed classic rock, but it’s informed by hiphop and dub, so it sounds fantastic instead of like the rote worship of an era that they’ve only experienced via DVDs and copies of Rolling Stone they've read at the dentist’s office. Wild Orchid Children stuff 10 pounds of action into a five-pound bag.

Inside Neumos, Hotels were wearing long-sleeve button-down shirts. In the summer. In 80º+ conditions—probably over 100º inside the club. They were beardless, which shows how devout they are about British post-punk, especially Joy Division and New Order. The singer emoted like a ’luded Ian Curtis, deep and tremulously dramatic, while the keyboardist worked four layers of keys and a laptop (the excellent drummer also had a laptop). To keep their Manchester tributes unexpected, Hotels cranked out a number that sounded like Durutti Column at 78 rpm. I’ll be checking into Hotels again.

On the Main Stage, Moondoggies played eminently comfortable country folk rock that was as American as eating cows and contracting colon cancer. They did “Black Shoe,” which is no “Old Brown Shoe,” that’s for goddamn sure. But lest all of this sound negative, let me hasten to say that I like Moondoggies. Hating Moondoggies is akin to hating a tree or a river. Trouble was, I just wasn’t in the mood yesterday to be tossed back to Alabama ca. 1969.

The few songs I heard by Pica Beats reminded me of a pretty flower wilting daintily in the summer heat. “Cognac & Rum” was fine, though, like a fascinating tempest in a teapot.

The Pains of Being Pure at Heart transformed the Main Stage in 2009 Seattle to 1986 Glasgow. They’re superior artisans at the arcane craft of ebullient jangle-ology. Their axes sounded like a millions bucks in loose change, and the sugary melodies in nearly every song threw the minds of pop fans of a certain age back to My Bloody Valentine’s “Paint a Rainbow” or Primal Scream’s “It Happens” or Shop Assistants’ “I Don’t Want to Be Friends With You.” There are worse ways to be derivative—much worse.

By stark contrast, Akimbo gave us some badass, infernal heavy rock in the inferno known as Neumos (seriously, climate control in there needs to be addressed before a Jonestown Massacre scenario transpires). I could only take two songs, though, as I was on the verge of passing out and choking on my own vomit. Still, through the heat haze, I recall drummer Nat Damm being quite the (Bon)ham.

Truckasauras’ “secret” unplugged show in Caffe Vita’s back room was superb, like Tago Mago-era Can (see Tyler Swan’s Jaki Liebezeit-tight drumming) meets Augustus Pablo (Adam Swan’s swoonfully tuneful melodica) down at the Nintendo factory (Ryan Trudell’s moving and playful Gameboy manipulations). I almost prefer this rawer incarnation of Truck. Also: I’ve never seen so many fat sacks of coffee beans in my life. Vita should be set for the rest of this century.

Later in the evening, Truck fucking killed it at Neumos and made me eat my thoughts about preferring their “street” setup. Before a packed house, Truck’s beats slammed more emphatically and funkily than ever before—and I’ve seen them about a dozen times. The tempos often reached a more techno-fied pace, although the third track boasted a crunchy, staccato beat that fell between genres with great success. The fourth track evoked George Clinton’s “Atomic Dog” in a manner that eluded fratboy connotations—a damn near impossible feat. Truckasauras’ new material on offer here bodes extremely well for future releases. When dynamite rapping duo They Live! came on for one cut, it was very tasty icing on an already nutritiously filling cake. Also, Truck’s Sleepy Eyes of Death remix was EPIC.

Future of the Left by Rabid Child

Future of the Left lived up to everyone’s hype; I say this with no strong allegiance to them or Mclusky. But I have to give them major props for their electrifying jabs of post-punk and the very danceable bile torrents they call “songs.” Their music shouts and twists and blisters and clouts. And they’re funny guys, to boot.

After FOTL, I wandered around in a stupefied, post-sauna daze, trying to find a few square feet where my big fucking nose could escape the rancid stench of cigarette smoke. I mostly failed in this endeavor. It’s staggering that so many people are still smoking in 2009. I think the Surgeon General needs to falsify a study that says cigarette smoking is good for one’s health. That way, people will quit en masse.

Now, Sonic Youth, the show for which thousands have been breathlessly waiting. Of course, about 20 minutes before start time, the cluster really got fucked. I tried to find a spot where I would feel the least claustrophobic and have enough arm room to take notes. That turned out to be right behind the sound tent in front of the old King Cobra space. I could hear well, but I couldn’t see shit. Oh well, maybe this handicap would enable me to focus more on the music. Lemons, lemonade, etc.

As it turned out, this set was the type I least wanted to hear: an overwhelming concentration on the newest album; 10 of 14 tracks came from The Eternal, a solid work, for sure, but one that doesn’t even rank in the top 10 of Sonic Youth’s canon. So if you love The Eternal, last night was heaven sent. They tore through those tunes with utmost professionalism, adding suspense-building intros and adequate noise bursts when necessary. [See setlist after the cut.]

But when “Stereo Sanctity” flared into being after three Eternal songs, my ears (at least) pricked up and noticed the obvious superiority of that SY era. The other non-Eternal material—“Hey Joni” “’Cross the Breeze,” and show-closer “Death Valley ’69”—also kind of dwarfed the new stuff.

I hate nostalgiacs as much as anybody, but it’s hard to argue that SY’s 2009 output surpasses their ’80s creations. Still, more so than most, Sonic Youth have earned the right to do whatever the hell they want. But I think an occasion like the Block Party would’ve been better served by a career highlights exhibit rather than a hype-the-new-record set.

That being said, “Anti-Orgasm,” “Sacred Trickster,” and “Massage the History” all held their own with the old shiz, revealing that SY’s mastery of dynamics hasn’t slackened much at all over the decades. And it became apparent live that “Antenna” is one of SY’s most beautiful songs, proving that doing mellow and pretty—without the ominous undertow of pieces like “Kotton Krown,” “Shadow of a Doubt,” and “Hallowe’en”—suits the band well.

A word about “Death Valley ’69,” one of the scariest moments in rock: It sounded a bit off tonight, and I question the wisdom of keeping it in the repertoire this late in the game. Here’s one song—with its diabolical guitar wails and damnation-bound vocals—that probably should be retained in the memory as a youthful dalliance. Witnessing it done by the 2009 Sonic Youth seemed like hearing oldsters using bang up to the minute teen slang; it just didn’t convince like it should have. Still, the feedback flourish that capped it off was a much-appreciated dessert to a mostly satisfying meal. Kinski guitarist Chris Martin, for one, thought the show was great. I thought it was good, but paradoxically it could’ve benefited from more nostalgia-satiating.

Saturday’s line up was great for me because it was full of bands that I respected but had never really given myself the time or effort to get properly into. I mean, I like Sonic Youth, and normally when you have and have listened to 4 of a band’s records you can consider yourself somewhat educated, but not with them. 4 records hardly scratches the surface of Sonic Youth. Still, I enjoyed every minute of their set even though I was unfamiliar with most of the material. Even being what I would consider a “minor fan” of the band I felt starstruck watching Thurston Moore and Kim Gordon. They radiate cool. And now they’ve given me proper incentive to listen to their newest CD (as if I had an actual reason not to before).

It was kind of the same story with the Gossip. I was familiar with the band, and I’d seen them once a long time ago at a teen center, but it wasn’t until their set last night that their rising star made clear sense to me. Beth Ditto is undeniably soulful, and when she starts into her scream - especially when the rest of the band builds up the beat behind her - she gave me the shivers, several times. Normally I feel like I might gravitate away from music that would be classified as “empowering,” but I was so impressed by what the Gossip were doing that I felt like at any moment during the set I was capable of blurting out an involuntary “You go girl.”

As if Truckasaurus needed any more stroking from this blog, somehow I had never caught their live set until last night, and now I must also join in the chorus of those singing their praise. Although the dance beats they construct are fun and grimy, they demonstrated a versatility in their more melodic songs that I appreciated more. Particularly the song they played third or fourth was a perfect interpretation of everything I love about late 90s Warp Records, a beautiful but pulsing tune that could have fit nicely on Squarepusher’s Big Loada. Then they brought out They Live! for what has got to be one of the best live collaborations I have ever seen. The room went from “feeling it” to “losing their shit” in a matter of moments. Missing They Live’s set on Friday was my one big regret of the weekend, but seeing them for even one song with Truckasaurus was enough to confirm my suspicions that those dudes are in store for some big time attention.

Surprisingly, I have to say that the best performance I saw all weekend was Akimbo. Whenever these guys play you know it’s going to be a good time, but their set in Neumos was legendary. The room was packed - there wasn’t an inch of space to spare on the floor or the balcony. Normally it would seem that the sheer volume and aggressiveness of a band like Akimbo might drive unsuspecting festival goers away, but that was absolutely not the case. The room started packed and it ended the same way. Looking through the crowd, I would guess that probably well over half of the people there had never seen the band live before, and boy did they get a good first impression. The wall of sound matched with the giant riffs and unbelievably positive crowd energy made for an incredible atmosphere that the band thrived on. There were older rocker guys by the back doors trying to pull their friends into the cramped building, saying, “You guys have got to come see this!” Even the band seemed put back by it all, saying, “We really didn’t expect this kind of a response at five in the afternoon.” They closed with a cover of Black Flag’s “Thirsty and Miserable” that was so good it even had the mom standing next to me headbanging.

photos by Curt Doughty.

The thing is, compared to My Bloody Valentine's brutal 'deaf in 20 minutes' approach from a few months ago, Sonic Youth came off like they had absolutely nothing to prove. In fact, as Mr. Segal already pointed out, the setlist was mostly culled from The Eternal—a move you could definitely argue was a cool one to pull, although not necessarily the right one. At least, not on a Saturday night when most people were screaming for 'Catholic Block' instead of another weird filter pedal workout.

Champagne Champagne, Constant Lovers, Book of Black Earth

(Cha Cha) Last year at Capitol Hill Block Party, while the sweaty
masses tripped over one another on the streets above, Cha Cha Lounge
hosted some of the finest local acts going—all in the relatively
temperate environs of that dark basement space. This year again, Cha
Cha is hosting bands as an unofficial part of Block Party by
default—you need a pass just to get to the front door of the
place—but just consider it a bonus to this year's already stellar
lineup. Tonight's bill boasts proven party-rocking outfit Champagne
Champagne, black-metal powerhouses Book of Black Earth, and post-rock quartet Constant Lovers, who are currently one of the most promising bands in this city. Also, the beer is cheaper down there, and you can drink it out of a real pint glass. GRANT BRISSEY

I would like to apologize for writing these words, as I was dead wrong about at least two things:

1. Last night the Cha Cha was not relatively temperate—it was hot as a motherfucker.

2. Constant Lovers were not a quartet (at least this time).

Confidential to Joel: Turn up your amp and never part ways with your drummer.

Earlier in the day, opening the fest on the Vera Stage, I witnessed the young Fullerton-based garage punk band Audacity live out their teenage years (all of them are 18-19), not long after Eric Grandy got heckled and dunked repeatedly at the dunk tank that raised money for Vera. It was scrappy punk rock that wasn't dilluted with any particular influence (as they're still young and free of care to think too much to sound like anyone but themselves). The singer, however, was an obvious reincarnation of a young Kurt Cobain, with his summer blonde bowl hair cut, shrilling screams, and left hand guitar-playing. His awkward stage banter was coupled with multiple mentions that the next song was "a Sonic Youth cover", when in fact they just made some noise for a minute before diving back into their own tunes. Realizing that these kids were born the year punk broke (1991) was a little funny at first, but I excited to see what talent these kids possess as they continue playing and partying together. They too made me feel like the teenage punk I once was, just that now I'm older and hardly wiser.

As for the musical wares, I walked into the Orange County maelstrom of Audacity as they were in mid-set. These Fullerton dudes prefaced nearly every number with, “This is a Sonic Youth song.” The appeal of that meme wore off after the second time. The blond lefthanded guitarist howled and looked like Kurt Cobain and the shirtless drummer had a Black Flag logo tat on his tits. Audacity played raw, raucous, ramshackle rock with youthful vigor that sometimes threatened to spill over into dissonant chaos. This was some solid 4 in the afternoon rock.

Ducked into Neumos to check out Band of Skulls. Got hit with an anvil of ye olde blooz roque with male/female vox. It was as if punk, to say nothing of post-punk, had never happened. Blueshammer seemed sort of subtle by comparison.

Back at Vera, Flexions coolly let loose some of their patented surf-rock-dub-exotica. “Overtanned” still stands out in their sets, but it misses Shannon Perry’s dulcet vocals. Ultimately, Flexions’ music really should be scoring films by directors like Quentin Tarantino, David Lynch, and Jim Jarmusch.

Over on the Main Stage, Spinnerette ground out characterless hard rock, a loud and dull insult to creativity. “You’re having record weather here, right?” singer Brody Dalle asked the crowd. Um, no, actually, we aren’t. “This song is for you guys,” she concluded with staggering obviousness, displaying as little cleverness with her banter as her band did with their sound.

The little I caught of Black Lips—whose garage-sike has always had a veneer of bad-boy-osity—sounded quaint and cuddly (maybe my distant vantage point made it seem so). Some songs, like “Starting Over,” came off as surprisingly sentimental. But “O Katrina!” will never sound like nothing less than a heart-full-of-soul anthem.

Back to Vera for the highlight of my day, Micachu and the Shapes. (Stranger photographer Curt Doughty, for one, concurred.) Playing her modified guitar (called a chu and looking like a hybrid of ukulele and acoustic), 21-year-old Mica Levi used it mostly as a percussion instrument, strumming it with staccato fierceness while a drummer and keyboardist/percussionist helped her galvanize a menagerie of textures and tones rarely heard on a summer festival stage—or anywhere else outside of a Harry Partch concert, for that matter. Some of the latter's bass frequencies undoubtedly attained that vaunted "brown tone." This was beyond even dubstep's subsonic wobble. Micachu and the Shapes are rewriting indie rock with their homemade instruments and spasmodic, oblong song structures that alternately sound woozy and amphetamined-up. At one point, Mica responded to a shouting festivalgoer with, “We’re definitely breaking the rules.” True dat.

It’s becoming increasingly rare to hear songs that don’t behave how you expect them to, and it’s incredibly refreshing to not know where they’re going to go. But for all their innate strangeness, Micachu and the Shapes’ tunes burrow into your memory banks and happy up your synapses—like pop music, but much, much odder and more interesting.

Deerhunter’s Main Stage performance was marred by sound issues and frontman Bradford Cox forgetting lyrics more than once. During “Operation,” Cox stated, “This is what happens when you play a song you don’t know.” Deerhunter’s shoegaze and drone pop seemed frail out in the elements and a steady flow of people streamed away from them throughout their time slot. The Neumos show from last November was way better.

I’m not really a Built to Spill fan, but I can appreciate their epic desolation, their uncanny Crazy Horse-ing around. Putting fragile vocals atop robust guitar/bass/drums and letting it all billow and sigh against a big sky is a can’t-fail approach with a lot of people, and BTS do it with utmost competence.

In Neumos, Earth were laying down some of the heaviest blues minimalism twang drone ever. My heart rate plummeted to 30/minute and I became imperfectly Zentered. (Also: Ladies, if you like teh old dudes, go to an Earth gig.) I caught three songs, but they lasted a gorgeous eternity: “The Bees Made Honey in the Skull of a Lion,” “Junkyard Priest,” and a new one that currently lacks title. Steve Moore’s trombone and Bill Herzog’s standup bass seriously augment Dylan Carlson’s downered Ry Cooder guitar meditations and Adrienne Davies’ methodical-underwater drum thuds (compliment; it must be very hard to hit with so much power yet do it soooo sloooowwwwlllyyy).

For the Block Party’s biggest contrast in tone, They Live! followed Earth at Neumos and took House of Pain’s “Jump Around” literally to heart. They Live!’s Bruce Illest and Dro Boy are consummate, hyperkinetic, hyperliterate hiphoppers, A+ students of the old school who somehow make those ancient samples pop to vibrant life and hold their own amid They Live!’s exuberant stage presence. Energy, talent, and charisma to burn here.

Jesus Lizard—again, I’ve never been a huge fan, but I respect their legacy. However, holy shit, they were absolutely ABLAZE, plus they covered Chrome’s almighty “TV as Eyes,” so they satisfied all the hardcore mofos who collected the 7s back in the day. “Thank your old buddy Helios Creed there,” David Yow told the crowd after they finished that awesome classic. “I don’t know a single girl who hasn’t had her mouth on that old buzzard’s dick,” he added. Uh, TMI? Anyway, these aging fux still got the fire in their (pot)bellies.

One day of Capitol Hill Block Party down, one more to go. Here's what happened yesterday:

Flexions played the Vera stage at 5pm, the sun still up and sizzling, and at first it seemed to me that the duo simply shouldn't ever play in sunlight. Something about their shredded dub rhythms just seemed too dark and disorderly for the daytime. I'd never heard the duo use vocals before, possibly because I've been seeing them play on shitty PAs so far, and it definitely changed the dimensions of their songs, adding a more markedly punk/post-punk layer to their choruses (I was hearing Wire or even the Buzzcocks in some of the unison vocals; a friend heard early New Order). As their set went on though, the band relaxed into a couple more loping, sunny songs, marked by more bright, floating guitar echoes, and then it started making some sense in the sunshine (one song straight up sounded like a dub version of "Lola").

Bow + Arrow's set yesterday was essentially the band's last, and for the occasion they added a second drummer, re-arranged a bunch of their excellent old material, and left room for some new, improvisational jams. Only, you couldn't really feel the extra drumming most of the time, the re-arrangements didn't seem that radical (there was big talk of "psychedelia" that wasn't quite realized onstage), and the improvisation didn't seem to go far beyond jamming out the ends of some of their old songs (and this was where you could really hear the expanded rhythm section). So, maybe not the blazing set I would have liked to see the band go out on, but it was still fine. The band's songs, despite the extra drummer, despite aims for psych or prog or whatever, are really just fantastic revivifications of old-school emo-core, and that's well enough for me. They played a new song, "Ark" (?), which Lucas Thillman introduced by saying, "If you've ever seen Trekkies, you know what that means" (I have, though it's been a while, and I don't know what it means). They closed with a cover of OMD's "Genetic Engineering" (off Dazzleships, the band's best record). "This is a cover of an OMD song," Thillman announced. "If you can figure out which...No, it's not "If You Leave," which is a good song but compared to the rest of OMD's catalogue is kind of BS." (Actually, that would have been an awesome song to go out on.) After the set, they apologized for being a jam band.

I only caught bits and pieces of Black Lips, but they were the first band on the Main Stage all day to sound really fucking good (that new Distillers band was awful). It's all well covered by now, but to repeat: Black Lip's stew of psych garage and girl group pop is pretty hard not to love. And "O, Katrina" remains an unfadeable jam.

I wasn't expecting much from Micachu & the Shapes. Honestly, I listened to Jewellry once and found it not so striking, certainly not as amazing as some of my friends and colleagues, people whose musical tastes I hold in high regard, made it out to be. And at first, approaching the stage, I thought the band's set was just going to confirm my antipathy. It sounded like droney, half-formed art school shenanigans (and I like art school shenanigans) with just a hint of r&b buried alive underneath. (At this point, I over heard two guys in the crowd: "Are you familiar with Pitchfork?" "No, but everybody's always telling me about it.") But then they played a song that was just all rimshot click, bass groove, and digital ringing percussion, and it sounded great—drone as pop, the r&b clawing its way up to the surface of the song (something about "old debris" maybe?). The song ended in an epic thrash, and then there was another groovey number that spiked into noise at the end. There was one song ("Hardcore"?) where Mica Levi and one of her bandmates stood facing each other across the mic, strumming guitars close to each other, strings and faces nearly touching. Walking across the grounds, someone seemed to be reading "poetry" on the Main Stage.

I've grown to really like Deerhunter, especially live, where their combination of antagonistic noise and dream pop really combusts, but man, they owe such a huge debt to Sonic Youth (og combusters of dream pop and noise) that it must be almost awkward to share a festival bill with the band. Still, Deerhunter are excellent on their own. Insistently groovy Microcastle jam "It Never Stops" is all eddies and undertow, warm drowning music. "Cover Me (Slowly)" is just epically woozy; Deerhunter frontman Bradford Cox introduced it as the band's "Cortez the Killer."

Speaking of which...Holy shit, how do I forget in between every time I see them that Built to Spill are pretty much perfect live. They're not much to look at, but that just means you can let yourself wander freely and enjoy them from wherever. The setlist picked out for the band by fan vote was also pretty ideal. "You Were Right" is scathing and skyscraping (and bong-scraping and ultimately hopeful). It started raining just a little, pleasant and warm, during "Big Dipper," with all its kid-sized wonder. "Virginia Reel Around the Fountain" sounded fantastic, even without Calvin's parts (Jeff, this is as close as you may ever get to seeing the Halo Benders at Block Party). Even songs that I don't care for so much on record—"Going Against Your Mind," "Carry the Zero"—are totally compelling live. And, god damn, it was great to see the band play "Car." (I missed/blacked out "Cortez" if they played it.)

They Live! just fucking killed shit headlining the Neumos stage. MCs Dro Boy and Bruce Illest (aka Gatsby and BlesOne) are plenty entertaining on their own—genial, cartoonishly animated, and totally on top of their games—but their back-up breakdancer, Chase, as well as his accomplice, damn near steal the show. Whether twitchily stalking the stage like a meth-head on the song of the same name or pulling a lucky lady onstage for a recreation of Bruce Springsteen's "Dancing in the Dark" video (complete with the Boss' awesome Carlton-esque dance move), Chase is the act's not-at-all-secret weapon. They did new song "Whitney" and old favorite "Weed Murderer." They ended the set by pumping Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody," rocking out a la Wayne's World, before cutting the song up into a beat for one last jam, pulling the crowd up on stage to get down. Also, congrats are in order to Larry Mizell Jr (aka Dro Boy, Gatsby), who starting this Sunday evening is taking over KEXP's long-running Street Sounds show. Cheers, Lar.

Caught the last two songs of Mika Miko and enjoyed what felt like a pretty fucking friendly mosh pit (or I may have just been still feeling good vibes from They Live!). Wound up at the Cha Cha (gasp!), where the objective awesomeness of the new Phoenix album, Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix, especially "Lisztomania" and "1901," played over the bar's soundsystem inspired the best dancing I'll probably see all weekend.

photo, top, of crowd at Mika Miko by Kelly O. Built to Spill by Curt Doughty.

Deerhunter made wafting, pleasant summertime afternoon tunes on the main stage, although it wasn't particularly engaging, especially from the back of a very large crowd. Still, hearing them play “Agoraphobia” from Mircocastle got the song stuck in my head for the rest of day, muttering “Come for me, you come for me” as I shuffled through the throngs. Stepping away from their set into Neumos was like walking into a scene from Blade Runner. Sleepy Eyes of Death were on their game, building sweet, smoky, strobe-y crescendos. It was a full room, and even the people in the back were transfixed. I'm sure they made a bunch of new fans.

Then - what a treat - Built to Spill at sunset.

I see these guys pretty much every chance I get, and it seems I’ve always got the same thing to say about them: They are a consistent pleasure. They have so many good songs that I will never get tired of seeing them once a year or so. They are the best kind of jam band. Having a setlist chosen by the fans really didn't seem that different from their other shows - they've always been aware of what their best songs are.

And then the Jesus Lizard took the docile crowd and started shaking them violently. David Yow works harder than any other frontman his age (48) I’ve ever seen. Good lord that man can stomp around and leap off stage with no regard. The crowd was so fired up all the trees around them looked like they were having seizures. After a while up front I made my way to the side of the stage and spent some time staring at Duane Denison’s fingers. Right at that part in “Then Comes Dudley” when he does that awesome slide thing all the guys around me (including myself) went, “Ohhhhh,” and he looked over at us with this face that said, “Yeah, I just did that. I been doing that.” At the beginning of “Boilermaker” Yow superman leaped into the crowd and then sang the entire song on top of them. The highlight of my year: At one point Yow ran over to where I was standing, put his face a few inches from mine and screamed, “Eat pussy!” I also enjoyed that in his short list of thank yous he said, “I forgot the name of this festival.”

Here is some crappy video from the side of the stage:

photos by Curt Doughty

I read all of the Walking Dead this week. It is an excellent comic book. I like to imagine Nat Damm is at the prison, on Zombie patrol. Or also that he’s watching over the crowd, so he can protect them, because he’s a vigilante crime fighter, and that’s why he’s so good at drums. Really though he was just waiting to get dunked on.

There were two upstart amplifier brands with kiosks this year. The first one, Blackheart, was positioned right inside the gate, and had amps that looked like Marshall half stacks designed for a tattoo parlor. They had their stuff set up to demo, so I fiddled with the knobs for a few minutes but couldn’t get any decent tone out of it, and it looked pretty stupid. I would never shred this, even if I won their raffle and got it for free. There was one lone girl tending to the stacks of identical yet different sized amplifiers. She seemed helpful.

Verellen Amplifiers set up their tarp shanty a few spots down the road, and boy do they have some pretty, hand-made gear for sale. They look great, and they sound better. These dudes are making excellent product. Everyone has dreamed of buying a thick stack from a Rohirrim horse lord, and now that dream is a reality. These guys are like a much cooler version of that “Stereo Warehouse” family from the commercials.

All photos © Curt Doughty Photography

Here's what I said about the group in the Block Party pullout:

(Fri, 7 pm, Vera Stage) Micachu & the Shapes—led by 21-year-old Brit Mica Levi—will be the weirdest group you will (let's hope) witness at the Block Party. Blessed with anxiety-inducing energy, strangely tart melodies, oodles of homemade instruments and their attendant novel textures, and surprising song structures rooted in the Raincoats and Captain Beefheart's Magic Band, Micachu & the Shapes twist indie-rock orthodoxy so hard it becomes virtually unrecognizable—a development we wholeheartedly advocate. Fans of the Man Man school of demented circus punk could fall in love with Micachu's phenomenal Jewellery, but there's little of that outfit's preening wackiness here. Instead, it's a seemingly pure distillation of genuine eccentrics' creativity. (Björk is a fan, if that matters to you.) Doubters: Go to YouTube and view the 80 mad seconds of "Lips." Now try to contain your excitement.

UPDATE: I hate to say it, but I was on the fucking money with this prediction. Okay, I don't hate to say it. Hope you caught this phenomenal set. Review later today.

(3:30 - Dunk Tank :: All Ages)
4:00 - Audacity, Vera Stage :: All Ages
5:00 - Flexions, Vera Stage :: All Ages
6:00 - Bow+Arrow, Vera Stage :: All Ages
6:30 - Black Lips, Main Stage :: All Ages
7:00 - Micachu, Vera Stage :: All Ages
7:45 - Deerhunter, Main Stage :: All Ages
9:15 - Built To Spill, Main Stage :: All Ages
9:30 - Starfucker, Vera Stage :: All Ages
10:30 - They Live!, Neumos :: 21+
10:45 - Jesus Lizard, Main Stage :: All Ages
10:45 - Mika Miko, Vera Stage :: All Ages
11:30 - SING SING Reunion w/ Pretty Titty and Fourcolorzack, Neumos :: 21+

The only big toss-ups are Built to Spill vs Starfucker and Jesus Lizard vs Mika Miko (They Live!, you have me for 15 minutes—no false starts this time). I'm tempted to root for the underdogs in both those cases, but I do love me some Built to Spill. Hmmm... (Schedule here.)

Friday July 24
5:45-6:15 The Get Off
6:45-7:15 Toy Soldiers
7:45-8:15 Fun Fun Fun
8:45-9:15 Loving Thunder
9:45 on Born Anchors

Saturday July 25
3:45-4:15 The Absolute Monarchs
4:$5-5:15 Spinning Wheels
5:45-6:15 Thorstone
6:45-7:15 Moonrats
7:45-8:!5 Champagne Champagne
8:45-9:15 Constant Lovers
9:45 on Book of Black Earth

Some reasons you might want to dunk me in a tank of frigid water (I mean, besides helping the Vera or whatever): I killed all-ages music! And King Cobra! I don't like your band! I'm KING OF THE HIPSTERS! My cocaine might get wet/my skinny jeans will get even more shrunk! You throw like a troll! Etc!

Other dunkees for charity will include members of TacocaT, Mad Rad, Akimbo, Schoolyard Heroes; Tigerbeat; Spencer Moody; retiring all-ages columnist Casey Catherwood; and the fine scoopers of Molly Moon's Homemade Ice Cream.

Doors open at 3pm.