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tgaoe · 6 years

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“do you love me?” “only partly”

-a review of the Aubrey and the Three Amigos tour opener in Kansas City-

In the late 90s, in my early teens, I began attending concerts, almost exclusively Christian rock bands. Music, bands, and seeing bands play music, dominated my life. In the days, weeks, months leading up to an anticipated show, after school, before my parents got home, I would play a band’s CD—a live one if available—loud, and “perform” it in full alone in my room with a flashlight for a microphone, lip-synching, giving shout-outs to imagined fans, dancing around maniacally until pouring sweat. Last Sunday at the Sprint Center in Kansas City, for the 15,000 people attending the twice-postponed first date of a massive world tour, pop-rap superstar Drake Aubrey Graham—a grown man five months younger than me—did the exact same thing. Last Sunday night, I watched Drake do over an hour of Drake karaoke. It was adorable. It was Drake at his Drakiest, coasting on charm, giving minimal effort, getting away with it.

I love Drake. I love more Drake songs than I love songs by any other artist, by far. My meticulous Drake playlist, post-Scorpion, contains 96 tracks and lasts six hours and 32 minutes. If statistics equaled favoritism then Drake would be my all-time favorite artist. That said, Drake would likely not even make a list of my twenty favorite rappers, let alone general artists. But I love Drake still, and I think about him and enjoy his music disproportionately to how much the man and his work actually mean to me.

I love Drake because he, or rather the character he plays—who is not actually a character, but is really him—is simple, but in a complicated meta way that circles around and in on itself. See, Drake is dork. He presents as hard, cool, svelte, smooth, but he knows he is actually a dork, we know he is actually a dork, we know he knows he is actually a dork, and he knows we know he knows he is actually a dork, and all of us together have this tacit agreement to accept this false narrative, to enjoy it because doing so validates the way we sing along in our cars alone to songs to which we cannot relate at all. Drake’s existence as a pop star makes it okay, in theory, for me, a 32-year-old white man who teaches elementary school—the dorkiest of dorks, to rap along with Ice Cube’s “It Was a Good Day” in my car on the way home from school, to pretend to be Cube, as long as I leave out certain words when I do it. Drake makes us feel like this is okay to do because it is what he does on the most massive scale. Drake is a theater kid playing a famous rapper, who also just happened to become the most famous rapper.

Drake’s show on Sunday manifested this idea. Tickets cost as much as $250. Mine cost $151.62 after convenience fees. This single performance netted Drake an estimated $2.25 million—I repeat, two million two hundred and fifty American dollars--and yet this man had the gall to perform without a band, without even a visible DJ. It was just Aubrey out there onstage—except during his three—THREE—extended breaks over the 100 minute set, one of which ate up a full 20 minutes while openers Migos sleepwalked through a surprise encore featuring several more of their dreary triplet trap tunes, sapping the energy from the arena until Drake finally, finally reemerged to begin “Blue Tint,” without Future of course. Well, Future’s voice was there, on recording, while Drake shouted over it.

Drake’s voice was also present on the backing recordings. In fact, earlier I posited the notion the evening was Drake doing Drake karaoke. That was not technically accurate. Karaoke tracks exclude missing lead vocals to make room for the amateurs’ interpretations. What Drake did on Sunday was more akin to what I used to do in my bedroom as a teenager, belting along with CDs. The backing tracks at this show were not backing tracks at all. No, they were the original album tracks, with all Drake’s original recorded rapping intact. Drake would rap over his recorded self roughly 40% of the time. The other 60% he would emphasize certain words, talk to the crowd, dance around the massive stage, generally act as a hypeman for himself.

I have seen dozens of large-scale touring rap shows, and I have developed certain guidelines for what makes a good one. First, and most importantly, an arena-touring rapper needs a solid live band, even if that band plays along with backing tracks. Organic instrumentation makes shows feel raw, real, vital in the moment, like something could go wrong. Last year I saw Chance the Rapper play for a crowd of 40,000, and even though his voice was shot due presumably to an asthmatic episode, the show was fun and good because his band played the music right there onstage.

A real, talented DJ can also suffice as long as the rapper(s) also meet the second guideline I will get to. A DJ that visibly flips records and scratches and mixes in real time can fill the void of a live band. Run the Jewels did this both times I saw them, and they are a titanic live act. Many others have made this work for me as well; Eminem, Wiz Khalifa, and, to an extent, Kendrick Lamar, whose monumental roadshow last summer deserves its own multi-thousand-word writeup.

Second guideline: rappers need to rap live with minimal backing vocal tracks, and along with that they need to be the only vocalists onstage and also know how to use a microphone. I have seen so many rappers scream into their mics with no regard for how torturous doing so sounds to the audience, and have three anonymous buddies onstage doing the same thing. I saw Odd Future twice and they were absolutely disastrous, a cacophony so intolerable that I left their Coachella set before they allowed Frank Ocean his allotted two songs. In hindsight I regret this given what and who Frank became, but that is a digression.

Third, live rappers need to be consummate, energetic entertainers, need to at least seem like they are happy to be there rapping for you. The Migos, who opened for Drake, were the antithesis of this. They had a live DJ(✓), but they moped around the stage oblivious of the audience, like they were at the supermarket perusing tv dinners. I am happy to report, however, that Drake met this third expectation, that, by sheer force of Drakery, because of Drake’s inherent Drakeness, the absence of a live band and the extensive use of backing tracks did not much matter. Drake’s show by its very nature was an exception that proved those first two rules.

Drake live is dork supreme, the epitome of his metacharacter. He triumphs as the sole presence on a huge stage in the center of a hockey arena in front of 30,000 eyes, fully living out the teenage bedroom fantasy of performing on a huge stage in the center of a hockey arena in front of 30,000 eyes. That he barely bothered to actually rap is rendered charming by the fact that the Drake we know on record is absolutely the kind of person who would do that, and it is why we love him. Walking out of the show, rushing back to my car to beat the throngs so I could commence the three-hour night drive home, I had the most bizarre feeling: I was satisfied by a total lack of satisfaction.

An early highlight of Drake’s set was a surprising rendition of If You’re Reading This relative deep cut “Know Yourself.” When the beat cut out before the chorus, the tension hung in the air, and then that massive EDM-like drop hit and the pit crowd went wild, as did Drake, galloping across the stage like a madman. The feeling was electric, screaming along with thousands of other people, RUNNIN. THROUGH THE. SIX. WITH MY WOES.

I wish Drake had done more songs from that era. He played 40 songs, but only one or two each from his first four LPs. He sounded best on hard rap tracks—“Free Smoke,” “Energy,” “Gyalchester,” new classic “Nonstop”—and worst on anything that required him to sing, because apparently Drake cannot sing live, even with autotune, to nobody’s surprise. The only time he audibly sung came during an anemic cover of Michael Jackson’s “Rock With You,” tacked onto the end of “Don’t Matter to Me,” naturally, and he sang it in a bizarre whisper. Drake cannot sing! Who knew!

Watching the crowd lose it for the hits was lovely, as was how Drake absorbed the love and fed it back to the crowd. He may have been acting—he was a professional actor first, after all—but Drake seemed genuinely surprised, or relieved perhaps, that the crowed enjoyed the show. He saved the monster radio jams for the backhalf of the show, the finale lead-up a suite of unimpeachable chart-toppers; “One Dance,” “Hotline Bling”—including the video’s doofy dancing, which wasn’t that different than the rest of Drake’s dancing, “Fake Love,” “Nice For What”—which may go down as Drake’s greatest pop song, and “In My Feelings.” Arranging those five songs in succession is such a vaunt, a reminder why we all paid so much to be there, why we stuck it out through an interminable hour of Migos.

And then came the fake closer, “I’m Upset.” Look, I love “I’m Upset.” It is hilarious, unintentionally—but maybe not? —and that makes it great. But “I’m Upset” is not a closer, even if everyone present assumes an encore or three is inevitable. Drake mugged his way through the grievance anthem, left the stage, and came back out a minute later to bid us goodnight with what I assume would be a couple more tracks.

The opening synth lines of “God’s Plan” kicked it. The crowd roared. Drake opened his arms in full Jesus Christ/Scott Stapp pose. I could see the finale in my mind. We would all sing along with this jubilant new classic—she say do you love me I tell her only partly I only love my bed and my momma I'm sorry, hahahaha so funny and perfect and petty, so Drake—and then that four-to-the-floor kick/snare would start, each and every one of us suddenly awash in a wave of euphoria as Drake sent us out the doors with “Hold On, We’re Going Home,” quite possibly the greatest pop song of the last decade, an ecstatic moment we would all remember forever, a story to share with our progeny when Drake wins his third Oscar twenty years from now.

But no.

That did not happen.

We got silly to “God’s Plan”—see Drake=God in this equation, and I guess this was church?—and then… the show ended.

Drake and/or his keepers made the confounding, inexcusable decision not to play “Hold On, We’re Going Home.” Of the $151.62 I spent on the ticket, I would say roughly $102. 35 was to see that one song. I do not understand this choice, even a little, especially during a set that featured 16 songs from Scorpion, a record with but four great songs—well, five if we ironically include “I’m Upset.” Okay, six because “Mob Ties” is stupid but a grower. Yet, Drake subbed any of 10 mediocre Scorpion cuts in place of “Hold On.” Come to think of it, he also did not play “Marvins Room.” Or “Passionfruit.” Or “Best I Ever Had,” “Shot For Me,” “Take Care,” “Furthest Thing,” “Legend,” “No Tellin’,” “Back to Back,” “Right Hand,” “Portland,” or “Blem.” Drake had the audacity to karaoke 40 of his own songs and not one of those songs was the song “Feel No Ways.” Hey, Drake, guess what. I’m upset. With you. About this. But not really. But kind of. Eh.

The truth. The truth is that I knew how this show would go, that Drake would lip-sync or not even bother to lip-sync. I knew I would not be satisfied, because satisfaction is not what Drake is for. I knew that Drake could not possibly play all 96 songs of his that I enjoy. I knew he would favor the more recent material because that material is what is getting him paid right now. I knew the cheapest t-shirts would cost $45. I knew that the Migos would suck. I knew all this, but I still chose to pay to be there. I almost always go to shows to be present during them, enjoy them as they’re happening. But with Drake it was different. I paid to be there, not so much to see Drake, but to have seen Drake, to have actively participated in the summer of the year 2018.

A couple nights ago my girlfriend and I were chatting with some her neighbors on their porch, enjoying chilly mason jar margaritas after a long day of oppressive humidity. The conversation inevitably drifted to the topic of recent concerts, as most conversations which include me tend to do since I am unable to speak with a modicum of clarity about much else. The neighbors’ seventh-grade daughter heard me mention that I had recently seen Drake. “Drake… the rapper?” she said, giving me an incredulous look. Rather than dispute this child’s narrow genre classification, I said something like yep, that’s the one. This is all to say, I am now a person who has seen Drake, envy of middle school girls everywhere.

#drake #aubrey and the three amigos tour

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sinceileftyoublog · 6 years

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Live Picks: 6/8-6/11

Hop Along; Photo by Tonje Thilesen

BY JORDAN MAINZER

The weekend’s got plenty of music and a couple more festivals. Check out what to see.

6/8: Bill Frisell Trio, Old Town School of Folk Music

Bill Frisell has long been one of the most innovative jazz guitarists, injecting influences from Americana/country (see Blues Dream), Malian guitar music (see his excellent The Intercontinentals), and even ambient/experimental music. To see him play in any capacity is a treat. This trio performances features bassist Thomas Morgan and drummer Rudy Royston.

6/8: The Black Dahlia Murder, House of Blues

Tonight, Michigan death metal band The Black Dahlia Murder plays last year’s Nightbringers in its entirety, their best album since Ritual and certainly one of their best records yet. We previously covered a show of theirs in Joliet to support 2015′s Abysmal, and if that was anything to go by, they’re experts at combining melody and power on stage as well as in the studio.

Knoxville deathcore band Whitechapel (playing This Is Exile in its entirety) co-headlines. Italian death metal band Fleshgod Apocalypse and blackened death metal bands Aversions Crown and Shadow of Intent open.

6/8: Young Widows, Subterranean

Tonight, Young Widows celebrates the 10-year anniversary of their album Old Wounds by playing it in its entirety as well as playing some never-before-played tracks from their just-released compilation DECAYED: Ten Years of Cities, Wounds, Lightness, and Pain. Earlier this week, we spoke with front-man Evan Patterson about the new album and the upcoming show.

Singer-songwriter Emma Ruth Rundle and local post-hardcore heroes Sweet Cobra open.

6/8: The World Is A Beautiful Place & I Am No Longer Afraid To Die, Lincoln Hall

There’s a reason that this band has made it to our top albums of both 2015 and 2017 and that their show three years ago at Subterranean was one of the best we’ve reviewed. The band’s trademark mix of post-rock, post-hardcore, and truly tender emo makes their sound unmistakable. Their stories, filled with tales of sexual violence, feminist revenge, and experiences with xenophobia have hit hard for many. Yet, their most successful songs remain as vaguely relatable as their music is expansive. Their live show is becoming increasingly ambient, as well, a refreshing shift for a band not content to stay within any one scene.

Baltimore Indie post-hardcore band Pianos Become The Teeth co-headline. LA garage rock trio Teenage Wrist opens.

6/8-6/10: Chicago Blues Festival, Millennium Park

Headlining performances take place in the Jay Pritzker Pavilion and include tributes to founder and owner of Delmark Records Bob Koester and legendary blues musician Little Walter, as well as a performance by a living legend, Mavis Staples.

We previewed Mavis Staples’ headlining show at the Vic Theatre back in February:

“Since 2010′s stunning You Are Not Alone, Chicago legend Mavis Staples has fostered a fruitful musical relationship with another beloved Chicagoan: Wilco’s Jeff Tweedy. Three out of the past four albums feature production and/or songwriting from Tweedy, and his minimalism is the perfect complement to Staples’ deep soul. Her most recent offering is If All I Was Was Black, an outward and explicit political statement. Live, Staples tends to cherry pick from her recent discography but also play Staples Singers classics and covers of The Band and Buffalo Springfield.”

Vieux Farka Toure plays the Budweiser Crossroads Stage (at South Chase Promenade) on Saturday at 2:45 P.M. The Malian singer and guitarist is more than just the son of the legendary Ali Farka Toure; he’s put out some great albums in his own right, namely his self-titled debut and 2011′s wide-ranging The Secret (I see you, Dave Matthews feature). His most recent album is last year’s Samba, which features the limber and joyous “Bonheur”.

Fantastic Negrito opens for Mavis Staples on Sunday at the Jay Pritzker Pavilion. His subversive, hilarious blues punk broke out in 2016 with The Last Days of Oakland, and he’s got a new album out next Friday with Please Don’t Be Dead. So far, he’s released two songs from it: the blistering “Plastic Hamburgers” and funky “The Duffler”.

6/8-6/10: Ribfest Chcago, Lincoln Avenue from Irving Park to Berteau

You can even be a vegetarian and enjoy Ribfest because it usually books pretty good bands. This year, headliners include Southern rockers The Weeks and country punks The Waco Brothers tonight, SILY favorite Algiers and indie folk act Yoke Lore tomorrow night, and 2000′s hype kings Ra Ra Riot and Americana duo Striking Matches on Sunday.

Algiers’ The Underside of Power was one of our top albums of last year. They’re a stellar live band, lead singer Franklin James Fisher equal parts soulful and angry, the band behind him delving into everything from ramshackle post-punk to ragtime and blues.

6/9: Tech N9ne: House of Blues

Divisive and lyrically dexterous Kansas City rapper Tech N9ne comes around pretty often, but like Los Lobos, that’s reason for me to always say “I’ll catch them next time.” Eventually, you just need to bite the bullet. Albums like All 6′s and 7′s and Something Else cemented him as an ambitious rapper who can succeed when working with big concepts and other mega rappers, while recent albums like Planet and Special Effects have showed he can be a hit-maker. He’s got 20 albums to his name and a ton of other EPs. Not everything he produces is quality, but he’s pretty prolific.

Hip hop artists Krizz Kaliko, Just Juice, Joey Cool, King ISO, and Mackenzie Nicole open.

6/9: Clams Casino, East Room

We covered influential beat-maker Clams Casino’s set at Day For Night 2016, where we noted that both he and the audience seemed a bit bored. Something tells me, however, that catching him in a crowded club at night is better than catching him in a half-empty post office in the middle of the day. (I listened to Instrumentals a couple days ago, and it still bangs.)

Producer Plu2o NASH opens.

6/9: Liz Phair, Empty Bottle

She’s got a sold out show at Empty Bottle and a major slot at this year’s Riot Fest. That’s because Matador records just released Girly-Sound to Guyville, a 25th anniversary retrospective of Liz Phair’s debut Exile in Guyville that even more notably includes remasters of her Girly Sound demo tapes. To celebrate the occasion, Phair’s set should be heavy on Guyville material, perhaps with a few highlights from Whip-Smart or Whitechocolatespaceegg.

Indie darling Soccer Mommy opens.

6/9: The Mavericks, Thalia Hall

Tex-Mex band The Mavericks have been perhaps at their strongest since their 2010s reunion. 2013′s excellent In Time may be their best album as a whole, while 2015′s Mono (mixed in monophonic sound) appropriately emphasized production over hooks. Last year’s Brand New Day veered a bit towards Americana--just listen to those powered out fuzz riffs behind the Tex-Mex on “Damned (If You Do)”. Even if the new record wasn’t as good as the previous two, it was at least a symptom of a band unwilling to stay put.

6/9: Live from Here with Chris Thile, Ravinia

Chris Thile’s done it all: played with acclaimed bluegrass bands like Nickel Creek and Punch Brothers, won a MacArthur Genius award, and covered Bach on a solo album. Now, he takes over for Garrison Keillor, who was accused of sexual harassment, on Live from Here (formerly A Prairie Home Companion). Special guests tomorrow night include guitarist Parker Millsap (who we just previewed), acoustic instrumentalist band Hawktail, comedian Tom Papa, and duet partner Gaby Moreno.

6/10: Traschan Sinatras, SPACE

Scottish indie pop band Trashcan Sinatras embarked on an acoustic tour last year. Now, they’re on their “One Night, Two Albums” tour, in which they’ll play in full their 1990 debut Cake & 1993 follow-up I've Seen Everything as well as selections from their more recent discography. Their last album was 2016′s Wild Pendulum--but I’d hope for cuts from 2004′s Weightlifting.

6/10: Simon Joyner, Empty Bottle

Omaha singer-songwriter Simon Joyner is the type to have laid back and made himself a steady presence in the Americana world. Those he’s influenced and collaborated with, like Beck, Conor Oberst, and John Darnielle, have sold more records than he has, but his music remains just as present. Last year’s Step Into The Earthquake followed 2015′s excellent Grass, Branch, & Bone, which we spoke to him about at length in our feature Palpable Pain.

Chicago singer-songwriter Gia Margaret and singer Angela James (joined by Jordan Martins of Quarter Mile Thunder on pedal steel) open.

6/10: Hop Along, Metro Chicago

We caught Hop Along’s intimate, energetic set at House of Vans last year after they had multiple years to iron out the songs from their great Painted Shut album. This time around, they have another excellent album to their name: Bark Your Head Off, Dog, released a couple months ago. In recording the new album, the band spent extra time in the studio, resulting in songs filled with strings, Rhodes, and complex, layered harmonies. The extent to which they’re able to replicate the album live is a selling point for seeing them just as much as lead singer Frances Quinlan’s incredible voice.

Ex Hex-offshot Bat Fangs opens.

6/10: King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard, Riviera

They did it. It was an ambitious promise, but Australian psych rockers King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard released 5 albums last year (including Murder of the Universe, reviewed on SILY). They were all good, but none as good as 2016′s truly nonstop Nonagon Infinity. Expect them to play from their entire recent discography minus Sketches of Brunswick East, which was released in collaboration with Mild High Club.

Melbourne rockers Amyl & The Sniffers opens.

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justfollowmyhansel · 6 years

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Bowie Museum Pt. 2 — May 17th through May 19th, 2018

When I was initially planning my spring vacations, it was largely around a monthly cycle of Bowie Exhibit and Mattachine experiences. Since the Exhibit was scheduled to run from early March to the middle of July and since I had been enamored of Bowie the majority of my life, this was an expense I was more than willing to take on. In fact, now that David was no longer alive, this would be the closest I would be able to get to seeing him perform live — a pale comparison, I was certain to actually being in the same venue as the man….

But…as with the last travel experience, plans change. They have to. Either by a change in financial status, a change in emotional status, or a change of larger plans. For me, larger plans meant going to Australia to see John. By this time, four of the five dates had been announced and the tickets released for purchase. The first and second being the absolute bookends for the trip with Adelaide and Brisbane. Naturally I had tickets to all of them, but I knew that when push came to shove, I’d have to pick whichever grouping of dates gave me the most concentrated amount of shows for the least amount of time. I didn’t think that I had been with my current job long enough to justify taking that much time off — even with the explicit reassurance that I knew perfectly well that I would be taking a significant part of that time as unpaid. Even if I had been with that job long enough to justify taking what would amount to five weeks, I wasn’t sure that I would want to.

So plane tickets were booked and budgets adjusted around the understanding that my first show would be on July 6th in Sydney and I would have what more or less amounted to a show a week for three weeks (even if they weren’t quite spaced like that.)

In lieu of the extra couple of weeks in Australia, when it was announced that Mason and Mimi would be bringing back their Taboo staging, I jumped at the chance to go again. I confirmed the tickets were available and then a couple of days later booked the plane ticket. The first time the show had sold out, but only within a couple of days of the actual date. I had felt confident that it wouldn’t sell out that quickly this time and that I could secure a good rate for the plane tickets before purchasing the show tickets. When I went to book them though, something had come up. The original link that had been posted for the tickets routed to a dead end that wouldn’t allow the tickets to be finalized and the website for both the venue and the production company had been all but scrubbed of the existence of a second show.

I thought about cancelling the trip, refunding the money, and having more money to play with when I got back to Australia. But instead, Risa and I planned a trip that would be an extended stay at David Bowie Is where we would take a full afternoon at the show, bringing both Advil and water into the exhibit and then later take in a live talk with one of David’s most prominent designers. The one that had designed the first outfit you saw when walking in. And the second day, instead of being spent seeing Mason would be spent taking an informal tour of Hedwig history, one where we would visit the now-remodeled Jane Hotel, the Belasco, the West Village that featured so prominently in JCM’s videos, but not Mattachine now that the ticket had been booked for the week before the Thursday we were expecting it to be.

This time going up to New York, I came into the Philadelphia airport and witnessed a much longer drive up to Brooklyn. The flight in had free wifi for the majority — a pleasant surprise given that a child on the plane was having what sounded like the worst experience of its young life. Instead of screaming baby, I was able to listen to nonstop David Bowie music. Just the thing to set the mood for the afternoon.

Risa and I took great pains to stress that we were capable of walking to the museum ourselves. The last time, we had been a little…escorted and given that we were both adults within the very safe confines of a museum, we were safe in the assertion that we got this. The only thing to call that into question was my nice new, still weeping thumb scar — a product of my being relatively careless with a craft knife while shaping a custom Funko Pop doll.

After we convinced her parents, we went upstairs to the exhibit. This time having untimed tickets, we were able to go in whenever we pleased. I checked the time on my phone and deemed it far enough away from the start of a fifteen minute block to go in. We received our headphones, but this time paid significantly less attention to them. Being the Bowie enthusiast of the pair of us, I gave Risa a mini-tour, filling in some of the information left off of the exhibit cards, disputing information that rang false (which given that the exhibit was put together from Bowie’s archives, but not his fact checkers was necessary at times), and tying things back not only to Hedwig and John, but to other cultural touchstones that Risa might have known.

Without the urging of her parents to take less time exploring the minutiae, we spent more time examining the video footage and getting close to the items we wanted to see. And since we had already been there before, we were able to be more confident that we were seeing every section of the show as opposed to passing over rooms due to crowd movement.

We left after inching our way through the exhibit, we made our way out to the gift shop. I took the chance to ask what the difference was between the hardbound and softbound versions of the catalogue other than the obvious one was hardbound and the other wasn’t. It took two different exhibit workers to get an answer but apparently in terms of content, they were the same. I had a list of memorabilia that I had purchased the last time and a list of things I had wanted to buy the first time, but they had run out. Originally, I had placed a $300+ order through the website, but it had been cancelled after a few days due to a high volume of sales.

After the last time, the lady in charge of upstairs merchandising recognized me. I wasn’t sure if it was the fussiness of asking over a $1.50 button or the amount that I had spent. This time, she helped me find a record that I had rethought my position on buying and telling me the price of a t-shirt that was significantly higher than the other ones the exhibit had on offer. After some difficulty getting checked out, we exited.

Immediately getting into the more traditional museum fair, it felt like the building’s fever had broken. We sat down in the relative coolness. Risa texted her parents that we were out and I texted my mom. Her parents wanted to know what we were going to do for lunch as they were going to come and get us if we were going someone. The last time we had eaten in Brooklyn, it took us close to forty minutes to find a restaurant that wasn’t crowded and even then, it wasn’t one that I had an easy time finding something to eat at. My position was that Risa and I could find one on our own. And we did, agreeing that Popeye’s sounded nice as we passed a gentleman eating a box of chicken in the downstairs café.

Her parents thought it was too far to walk compared to the time we had to be back for the talk. Regardless of whether it was or not, after significant back and forth over what to do it became too late to leave the museum for food at all, let alone to leave and come back for dessert like had been my plan.

A few more moments of quibbling over whether or not we’d want to actually at the overpriced café, the overpriced café with items specifically designed to go along with this exhibit, we just stood up and decided it would be then or never. Good timing because if we had waited any longer, we would have missed out on that night’s talk for sure.

In the café, we ordered a Blackstar cake — a dark chocolate cake with chocolate mousse and an orange glaze with little dark chocolate cookies spelling out David’s name in the Blackstar font — and a Thin White Duke drink for me that comprised a coconut rum, vodka, lime juice, and a cherry. We were both thrilled with the food selection and the well-timed service of our very nice waiter.

Just on time, or perhaps a touch late, we went down to the auditorium where the talk was being held. Kansai Yamamoto, the designer we were seeing, had more than a few antidotes memorized in English that he told at the start of the talk with impeccable timing. He was less interested in answering the host’s questions and more interested in delivering interesting stories tangentially related or on topics that he wanted the audience to know about. He told us about his design history outside of working with David, what his inspirations were, how proud he was of his daughter…. He talked about his first impressions of David and the ones he held later as they worked together on more projects. He talked about hosting David when both of their children were small and showed a photo of Duncan with his own daughter.

After the part that he had preprepared, he turned the English talking over to his translator, a very attractive and funny man in his own right to whom he had been introduced to only that morning. While he was able to understand the majority of the English around him, he explained that his brain wasn’t fast enough to translate the sentences he wanted to say, which was why he used the translator. Kansai also admitted that he was answering the questions in ways that interested him over more straight forward answers.

At the end of the speech, Risa and I chose to wander around the museum looking for things of interest. They were having a Bowie ball of sorts with dozens and dozens of people dressed up. We walked past where they were setting up and when we ran into him, personally thanked the translator for what he added to the talk.

Walking around, we looked at exhibits centering around Egypt, again with less than impressive captions and saw the tiniest mummy figure, a miniature dildo, and some of the pages of the Book of the Dead. That was the sort of thing that if I knew more about Egyptology, I would have been highly interested in studying at length.

We meandered our way downstairs, checking out the final part of the museum that had caught our eyes — the exhibit on Korea. That one again the captions were lacking, but added context that in terms of how anthropologists looked at Korea, they have only recently started to have their own cultural relevancy with the majority of their history being under the reign of China, Japan, or other Asian forces that had invaded them over the years.

We went downstairs and caught up with Risa’s parents. While we were seeing Kansai Yamamoto’s talk, they saw the free talk downstairs talking about David’s influence in fashion. Both had sounded appealing. The last thing we bought at the exhibit was a grapefruit margarita that Risa bought for me before we headed back to her car. The majority of our things were already in the car from earlier, which made a very easy post-event depositing into the car.

On the way back, we got McDonald’s and once we were back at Risa’s house further discussed David and the museum, this time with added youtube links for songs and photos that hadn’t been exhibited when we went to go see. Another few hours and we didn’t even make it out of the 70s in terms of content.

The next day, we chose to sleep in late. I hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before the flight and was up more or less for 24 hours before I was able to get into bed. Plus after the lack of agency we had at the museum, I wasn’t exactly thrilled to take a New York tour that very much would have to be guided by her parents.

Instead, we chose to go to Risa’s favourite Asian market. Knowing my fondness for the Asian grocers near me, Risa was eager to show off the shopping plaza that she and her anime group often went to. I agreed and late in the afternoon, we left for Mitsuwa.

Once we arrived, we got lunch and I found one of the things I had been missing most from Japan — coffee jelly. The coffee jelly in Japan was cut up into cubes and placed into a nice milky base as if the cubes were acting like ice cubes in a drink. The one here was a denser selection of jelly with soft serve ice cream swirled on top.

Among the other food I purchased was three additional drinks I’d never had before with the idea that three was reasonably the limit I could get through before going home, a bag of gummy lychee candies because I’d wanted to try them for awhile, and a box of my other favourite Japanese food, raisin sands.

We looked at the makeup, cookware, booze, and other sections of the store, sometimes with me explaining what a product was or could be used for and other times with Risa pointing out that she had seen something before or that it was something she had tried at the anime mart. We found no end to things that would have to be tried later either for a lack of immediate funds or, more often, a lack of time in which to do it.

We stepped outside of the food market portion of Mitsuwa and back into the food court. Risa insisted that I try a fish shaped waffle with red bean paste called taiyaki. I was surprised at how well the flavours went together.

The next place we went was the bookstore. At the very back of the store was a separate paper and stationary store set up not unlike how Borders used to have their stationary, but with greater detail and actual variety of items and not just casings. I could have bought the entire tiny store with its brightly coloured papers, meticulously lined notepads, rainbow of ink selections in gel and ballpoint and all manner of cute. I limited myself to a floral plastic folder for papers, a small lined notebook to make my attempts at learning Japanese and Korean seem more authentic—and so that my letters didn’t dwarf the page, and a small corn shaped eraser for my mother since it reminded me of the Dekalb corn signs that she’s so fond of.

In the outer bookstore, there was less of interest. It was a beautiful store, but given that whatever I bought I would have to carry on my back back to Kansas and the high prices in a real bookstore as opposed to my usual used bookstores, there were automatically less appealing options. I did find two books on Yuri!!! On Ice, one of which I bought to make up for the lack of show merch I was able to find when I was in Japan.

Last was the general items store. Again, Risa and I spent a long time looking over times like sushi themed socks and cute luggage that might have made travelling easier had I not already had my obnoxiously unique purple hearted luggage. We stayed until the store was ready to close, apologizing that we hadn’t realized that it would be closing so soon and I picked up another button for my coat jacket — a pink Hello Kitty produced by a drink company I was familiar with. It soon found a spot next to the Bowie pin and the clay Hedwig pin that I had bought off of Etsy.

We went back to Risa’s, me eating on some of the food I had acquired at the Asian market and carefully trying to balance starting a new drink so that I could have a different new one at Rocky Horror and the last in the morning before my flight.

For evening plans, Risa’s mom had suggested either a live performance of Cabaret, which neither Risa nor I was super enthused about or a shadow cast version of Rocky Horror. We opted for the Rocky Horror experience.

In between goings on, I created a new punk/glam makeup look, applied a fake tattoo to my stomach, and changed into the blue Origin of Love shirt I had brought with me. I figured why not combine my two favourite musicals?

We drove out slightly past midnight to a dead looking strip mall movie theatre. Risa’s mom dropped us off and said to text her when the film was over knowing from past experience that the show started at eleven, but the actual film could start anywhere from an hour to an hour and a half later than that.

We bought our tickets and another pin for my jacket and Risa and I went to sit down. We picked the back row, naturally.

The show started and they had an “impromptu dance party” that lasted a few seconds, a Rocky Horror baptism where they placed rice on the new baby of two former shadow cast members, and a few quick announcements before having their virgin activity and starting the show. The shadow casters and the audience weren’t exactly the stuff of legend that I’d been hearing about for over a decade in regards to Rocky fandom. The cast didn’t know their lines and the audience seemed to be going through the motions of “this is what we do on Friday night.”

So I decided it was a sing along. And I decided that whichever songs I wanted to get up and dance to, I would. I shouted a few new things or things I’d read in my Rocky Horror books to liven up our experience with the showing. For the most part, it didn’t interfere with the other movie goers since we were seated so far back and the things people did observe were met well. We left very happy and I felt like I had mentally reclaimed a film that had been tarnished by a bad experience with an ex and the atrocity that was Fox’s attempt at a remake.

We went back to Risa’s house again for a few hours before we all had to leave for the early morning flight back to KC. Given how much trouble we had had getting me back the first time, we left extra early to make sure I actually got on the damned plane the first time around. Naturally, I was almost through security as soon as I got there.

For airport food, I chose a coffee and some Popeye’s fries and during my layover, I grabbed a bagel and lox. From the moment I got off the plane in Kansas City, I would have to be up and awake until at least one in the morning due to volunteering to take the late-late shift to avoid missing any work. It took until I got back to Kansas City since the airport one was only serving breakfast, but I finally got the Popeye’s I had wanted for three days.

#bowie museum pt. 2 #New new New New New New New New NEW New York #travel diary #travel diary new york #new york day 1 #new york trip 2 #new york trip 2 day 1

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fashiontrendin-blog · 6 years

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Your June Horoscope Is Here and So Is Its Summer Bod

http://fashion-trendin.com/your-june-horoscope-is-here-and-so-is-its-summer-bod/

Your June Horoscope Is Here and So Is Its Summer Bod

Sing me a song if you’re the pianowoman/consider the start of June the official start of summer no matter WHAT the calendar says. You can do that in the comments — that’s what they’re there for. You know what I’m “here for”?

All of this recent news about Pluto! It’s nonstop! It’s such a hot ticket internet item that there was even a “10 Things You Didn’t Know” article published about it.

In news unrelated to Pluto (but why, I know) I have something to tell you: July’s horoscopes will be penned by someone else while I “unplug” for a few days. I need two hands to double-fist hotdogs at all times and I can’t exactly type with my feet. Don’t worry or do: I’ll be back in August.

Okay, enough of the agenda reading. Susan Miller, are you ready? I’ve read your Astrology Zone ‘scopes and have distilled them down below, but I need you on the kick-drum, quick: IT’S TIME FOR JUNE 2018 HOROSCOPES!

Gemini

HAPPY BIRTHDAY GEMINI FIREFLIES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Fireflies was meant to rhyme with Gemini but then I realized you can read Gemini as Ge-mini, as in, GE-MINI SKIRTS! GE-MINI DOUGHNUTS! GE-MINI HORSES!

Who knows what the “ge” would be used for other than emphasis, and speaking of emphasis, let me emphasize your birthday planets!

Great month for you and your career. Any traveling you do will be like feeding that career of yours fertilizer without the whole “poop” thing, which is the unspoken elephant in the room of fertilizer. According to my mom, horse poop is great for your roses!

That’s from the horse’s butt. This is from the horse’s mouth: “If you are single, Venus’ move into jovial Leo from June 13 to July 9 is good news for you. Your best time to meet someone interesting will be during that period, on a short trip to a nearby resort. Attached couples can revive their relationship by taking quick weekend trips as well.” Sounds like a real time to be alive in a party hat, if you ask me. Be careful about joining that club where people have sex in airplane bathrooms! I do not think it’s safe (you could get flushed down the toilet), nor do I think it’s legal!

Cancer

NOT to get weird but oh god, celestial sky crabs, I am so deep into that summer state of mind that just seeing your starry crab pattern makes me drool, even if it looks absolutely nothing like a crab. I want to gently crack your claw and suck the meat off your thumb and I don’t care who knows it! They say you should never go grocery shopping hungry but I really should never write horoscopes hungry — in the SUMMER, of all places.

Apparently your work life has been “all-consuming” (Susan’s words; promise I’m not listening in on your conversations with your bffs), “but keep pressing forward because June is still due to be a highly productive month.” You are going to be a job-place celebrity!!!

You will get to chill on the 13th, however. Isn’t it nice to foresee some deep, deep breaths? You might get so chill that you get lost, however, so keep your phone charged in case you need to use Google Maps. Susan says space out your savings, too. Sorry that we both sound like your mom right now.

If you’re serious, you just might propose on the 27th. If you’re single around the 13th (that same chill day), feel free to propose too. Venus will be on your side so you might as well also get your hair done.

“You are a tender sign, dear Cancer,” wrote Susan at the end of your summary, “and that is what is so lovable about you.” I’m going to go out on a limb here given her use of the word “tender” and say that Susan may have been hungry while writing your ‘scope too.

Leo

Hello and hi to the coolest cats in the sky. Now tell me (or show me down below) what the humidity does to your manes? I bet it looks fabulous.

“Love and relationships will be front and center of your life as you start June,” writes Suz. There was a full moon at the end of May that might have, also according to Suz, pushed you to make a decision about a romantic relationship. It’s possible that you became engaged, or! It’s possible that you decided to join uncuffing season, which means you’re primed and ready for a summer adventure. Either way, you’re headed on the right path to get whatever it is that you want in love, even if you don’t know yet.

If you’re looking for a new apartment, look no further than Jupiter. You can’t move there, but this super cool planet’s going to help you find a room with a view and doesn’t charge any of those ridiculous finders fees, either.

The new moon on the 13th is great for traveling, and your social life is going to get more and more robust, as they say when they’re being dramatic and calling themselves “they.” Your career is also on the rise. I know it’s not your birthday yet and that’s killing you but man oh man are you having the best June ever or WHAT!

Virgo

Hi Virgos who can and can’t drive! I promise that by the time your month rolls around I’ll come up with a new salutation.

From Suz: “If you are eager to get ahead in your career, you must pay attention to June. You will get opportunities, but in each case you will need to examine the details, as you will be dealing within an environment of smoke and mirrors, and it will be up to you to separate truth from fiction. Who better to do that than an eagle-eyed Virgo?” OO!

So there’s that vague yet helpful tidbit. What you need to know surrounding it: dot your i’s, cross your t’s (but also cross your eyes because it’s picture season and dot your tees because polka dots are still “in” thanks to the 2018’s 1980s). Susan also thinks you should pace yourself. It’s going to be a head-down, get-things-done kind of month, but man are you going to produce some real gems — gems that you can stick in your portfolio and show the world that you invented jar-less mayonnaise, just when the world really needed it most, goddammit.

Toward the end of the month, you’re going to have to make a big decision about your significant other. Don’t let this freak you out! Anyone in a relationship knows that sometimes the most monumental decisions you have to make together often involves “What should we eat?” and “What should we watch tonight?”

If you’re single, have a Pringle and enjoy the hell out of the summer sun!

Libra

I’m LIBRA-ing, on a jet plane! Don’t know when I’ll be back again. Or something something never let you goooo.

How’s your June going, speaking of going? Also in terms of going places, I REALLY appreciate the ad for rock climbing/hiking shoes on Susan Miller’s website? Let me know if you see it or not — I might just be getting targeted, which is so flattering! This ad company things I’m a hiker? It must be because I’m currently eating some granola I just found in a desk drawer after a Cancer told me to stop dipping her thumb in tartar sauce.

“This should be a very sunny month for you on many levels,” writes Suz, “from career, creativity and job opportunities, and home-related developments, to romance, new love, and time with children. In fact, you may possibly hear of the appearance of a new baby in the family, bringing joy to one and all. June is your month, dear Libra, so drink it in and enjoy it to the fullest.” Would you like a non-plastic straw with that good news beverage? Do you even want me to tell you anything else??

How about dates? The first two weeks are primed for career progress. Meanwhile, June 1st (whoops!), 2nd (sorry!) and 22nd (there we go!) are ideal for capital L-O-V-E.

And just know that if you feel like you’re changing your mind a lot in the lovey dove-y department, that’s okay! Go slow and be kind with yourself. It’s the summer. I feel like “it’s the summer” is going to be my excuse for everything for the next three months and so far it’s working, so feel free to join me.

Scorpio

Hello you beautiful bejeweled brooch of a creature! Since you’re here with your stinger and your butt and your pinch-y claws (don’t worry, I do not want to eat those, but that’s just because I’m full on Cancer’s crab meat, thank you very much), you probably want to know what the month has in the astrology store for you!

WELL I WILL TELL YOU BUT I AM NOT HAPPY ABOUT IT BECAUSE I JUST GOT HOME AND LEARNED THAT MY STASH OF “HEALTHY” PEANUT BUTTER CUPS IS GONE.

I AM THE CULPRIT.

IT WAS A SLOW BURN.

Focusing on June because this isn’t about me, it’s about you: There’s some boring stuff in there about how you’re going to get your finances in order at the beginning of June. Good for you! (Truly. That’s not boring, that’s smart. Almost accidentally wrote “adulting” but I can’t be blamed for that; blame social media and balance the shit out of that checkbook.)

Travel is in your sign this month so even if your boss said no to vacation time because you’ve gone over the limit, be like, “But my horoscope said.” Works like a charm bracelet.

Susan seems to think you’re getting married in June — literally or metaphorically (as in, married to your career, to a big new apartment, to a business idea, etc). Either way, around the 27th, you’re golden.

Sagittarius

Sagi-double-dot-your-eyes-and-cross-your-t’s, I talked so much about horses in Gemini’s blerg that I half-expected to see you pop out of the celestial woodwork. And yet you didn’t! Which leads me to believe you must be busy. Susan Miller sure must have been given that your summary alone was three pages. Speaking of good things that come in threes:

Threesome time! “As you enter June” (writes Suz), there will be “a rare golden triangle including your ruler Jupiter on one side, Venus on another, and Neptune as the third point of the triangle and together they will create a vibration of great harmony and beauty. This rare cooperation of three important planets will buoy your spirits and make you optimistic – and rightly so. You have much to be to look forward to in life.” Isn’t that nice? What does that mean, though? Truly, specifically, I don’t know, but the general gist I got about your ‘scope this month was that everything, from work to love to friendship to creativity — especially creativity, is coming up roses.

But to keep the clichés going: it’s not without some pedal to the medal. June’s the time to make some serious decisions. Not to be vague but YOU KNOW what I’m talking about. Toward the 22nd, an assignment is going to bring in a whole lotta money. And if you put in the effort now — toward anything, I guess, by the end of June, you’re going to feel “in sync with the universe.”

Capricorn

Hi Capricorn, feta and watermelon salad! Don’t you look delicious? You do too, Capricorn on the cob with butter melting off. OH I love butter. I’m so hungry. Like I said earlier, writing horoscopes hungry is worse than going to the grocery store hungry, but not as bad as the last time I wrote horoscopes, when the O of my laptop wasn’t working and when I brought my computer to the store the Genius Bar Guy was like, “Yeah, this laptop is fucked.” He didn’t use profanities and actually he was quite lovely but it was sad — it’s been sad! — because I’ve had the same computer since I think 2009. Am I still talking? Are you still reading? What the hell is going on with your horoscope?!

Let’s focus on the answer: You’ve got a big decision coming up on the 27th. It might be tough, but Susan says if you can remain practical, objective and unemotional, you’ll be solid. (That sounds hard as heck, but you’ve got those horns to keep you centered. I think you’ll be excellent at this. Besides, you’ve got Uranus and Jupiter on your side, rooting in your corner, massaging your shoulders, cheering you on and feeding you Gatorade.)

“When you have Saturn on the Sun, as you do now, in a once in 29-year cycle, you get to choose your challenge.” Susan Miller said this and I think it was related to the above, can’t totally remember, but man does it sound like something I want stitched on a pillow.

If work has felt slow in the un-fun way, that will change after the 13th. While things are quiet, use the rare moment to hang out with your friends. Jupiter’s in your house of bffs, which means whatever you two or ten decide to do together will be what we in the stars business call “magic.”

Aquarius

Cute Susan intro to June for ya here, I’m just gonna copy/paste it and drop it before we get into the goods: “The little cherubs flying around you are working to make sure you enjoy June very much.” Okay! And aw!

You’ve got Mars in your sign until November 15th this month and it’s making you a brave ass aqua bear. Even still, try to get all your work-work done before June 26th so that you can enjoy your July 4th vacation you have planned. (What are you doing??)

The 19th will be a really successful day, so if you can save a presentation or a phone call until this point, do it. I have a question for you about hair conditioner, by the way, which is whether or not you think I can use a hair mask in lieu of conditioner, because I’m totally out of condish and keep forgetting to buy it, but I’ve GOT TO wash my hair tonight. I can feel it getting heavier and heavier.

If you’re looking for a job, revisit people who you trust from your past to give them a whisper that you’re looking.

What else? The new moon in Gemini — June 13th — will be key for your romantic ambitions. In fact, why not just let Susan close us out the way she let us in: With a quote, of course! “The new moon in Gemini on June 13 will be the first and most important one this year, helping you to generate new love if you are single, and for adding spice to your relationship if you are attached. The Sun and new moon will light your house of true love. This is the first and strongest vibration you’ve had to enliven your love life this year.” Damnit! I’m all prepared to move on to Pisces but feel like that could have been a great vibrator joke!

Pisces

Hi rainbow fish! The person sitting next to me is watching a booooooring movie about airplanes but I guess it serves me right for writing at 10 p.m. When you write at 10 p.m., you rescind the rights to your stupid tiny remote control that always gets lost between the couch cushions. The only good thing about any of this is that I get to listen to the steady clip of Mid-Atlantic Accents.

What to know about June? Ho ho! “You will have time to have fun in the first week,” writes Susan, so breeze through this fast and get the hell outside!!! This mandated party is thanks to the threesome Venus, Neptune and Jupiter are having, creating what Susan calls “an outstandingly festive vibration.”

This vibration is gonna buzz whether you stay home and make a big decision or choose to travel and see what unfolds (watch TSA, though — maybe take out the batteries).

Mars is going to retrograde from June 25th to August 27th, so if you have any grand plans set between those dates, see if you can organize them so that they’re wrapped by the 24th. But don’t get weird about it. Sometimes planets don’t know shit. (Don’t tell them I said that.)

Where they DO know shit, definitely, is in your love life: Venus will be in your fifth house of true love until June 13th, according to Suz, so it’s gonna be a reallllllll romantic time. Eat it up. Here’s a spoon. Or a salad fork! Whatever your preference.

Aries

Fresh Aries! Man oh man is it good to see you. June’s gonna rule. Susan Miller guarantees it. The first two days were intended to be super romantic. Were they? I’d love to gossip about that with you.

If you need to travel, write, give a speech or sign a contract, June 19th is the day to do it. (Info once again c/o Susan.)

You know what you’re going to do a lot of this month? Nest. You’re going to move into an apartment, decorate the one you have, hunt for rugs, finally hang up pictures, clean out your closets, yada yada. How are you getting all the money for this decor stuff? Well, once again, allow me to be but a messenger:

“Abundant money appears to be flowing in, so concern about your monthly budget is not likely to constrain your plans – in fact, you may have enough saved up to buy a house, apartment, or summer cottage.”

You’ll be very popular this month. Maybe you’ll wear a sash! Enjoy the fun and soak it up. Not that the party has to end, but toward the end of the month, by the 27th, you’ll go into full career mode. “Early June and late September will your best time to make key moves in business, and in your personal life, too,” writes Susan. Can’t wait to CEO-ya on the beach near your new cottage in our matching sun hats!

Taurus

Sh, sh, sweet baby sky cows, I know it’s sad that our birthday month is over. Did everyone have a great time celebrating? I sure as heck and hearth (my new home decor company) did.

Here’s something I have never seen: Susan Miller called Uranus “the planet of lightning bolt change,” and while that does nothing except make me think of Sweet Home Alabama, she says it means that we’re about to experience “major shifts” in our everyday lives. The Butts Planet hasn’t been in our home since 1942! What if it doesn’t even recognize us?

What to expect during these wild times: potential moves, potential grooves, career changes, new homes. Susan says we’ll be successful this month but does liken us to bulls in china shops, which I would resent if it weren’t for the fact that I actually do not like to go into glassware stores because I suddenly lose control of my limbs and forget how to interact with gravity.

We’re going to be focused on money management during this time, getting stuff done before the 26th like everyone else (Mars is in retrograde), and, when it comes to love, though Susan doesn’t fully recommend starting anything new, she’s also not your mama. She is, however, a fan of the bulls, and with that, she wants us to treat ourselves to a massage on the weekend of June 9th.

Illustration by Cynthia Merhej.

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sinceileftyoublog · 6 years

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Riot Fest Review: 9/14-9/16

Beck

BY JORDAN MAINZER

Was it back to chaos for Riot Fest, which seems to find itself in some sort of trouble every few years? Okay, it’s not like they were in trouble with the city aldermen as in 2015. But they were facing lots of backlash from fans waiting ever so patiently for that second wave only to find out that previously announced headliner Blink 182 would be replaced by Weezer, Taking Back Sunday, and Run The Jewels--less than two weeks before the festival. The aftershows, daily lineups, and schedules were announced shortly thereafter, leaving full-time workers like me without time to hatch a plan to skip work and catch Liz Phair and Speedy Ortiz Friday before 2 PM. I can’t imagine what it must have been like to be an out-of-towner.

Nonetheless, at the actual festival, Riot Fest went on mostly smoothly. Lines for the entrance, port-a-potties, and beer were never excessive. The vibe was chill and strangely devoid of explicit contemporary politics. (I saw just as many awesome Mars Attacks! t-shirts as I did ill-advised joke MAGA hats--the count was, thankfully, a mere one). Per usual, the music was embedded in a previous era, bleeding down to even the stages you came across: I walked by right as K. Flay covered “Flagpole Sitta” and The Frights covered Shaggy’s “It Wasn’t Me”.

But perhaps the most important difference was whereas in past festivals, I found it easy to be cynical, judgmental of empty punk idealism about being whatever you want to be in the face of more concrete structural issues relating to class, race, and gender (ok--Suicidal Tendencies signer Mike Muir offered plenty of eyeroll-worthy motivational speeches), this time around, the words and actions of many bands, plus their gratefulness and desire to put on a great show for the crowds, offered more weight than making a statement. Whether it was Weezer’s classy move to cover Blink’s “All The Small Things”, Father John Misty’s surprising lack of sarcastic banter, or the sound of classic Smiths songs coming from someone who isn’t an insufferable blowhard, Riot Fest this year seemed--dare I say it--nice? Of course, there was worthwhile activism. Pussy Riot’s performance (shouted out by Front Bottoms lead singer Brian Sella) carried weight due to recent news of a poisoning of spokesperson Pyotr Verzilov by the Russian government. Superchunk’s Mac McCaughan urged the crowd, simply, to “vote.” But the most inspiring was the simple earnestness of the bands, a feeling that came across as actually genuine.

Run The Jewels

Riot Fest 2018 celebrated music and life--and no set did so more effectively than Run The Jewels. “We came to burn this stage to the fucking ground,” declared Killer Mike before the duo (and their venerable DJ Trackstar) launched into Run The Jewels III highlights “Talk To Me”, “Legend Has It”, and “Call Ticketron”, the crowd embracing every opportunity presented to go nuts. “Gold” was dedicated to “the better half of the human species;” at various points throughout the night, Mike and El-P told the crowd to keep their hands to themselves, unafraid to point out that harassment predominantly affects women. (They missed an opportunity to perform sex positive anthem “Love Again”, though.) And then “Down” was dedicated to Mac Miller and, accordingly, anyone who has left the earth too early. Mike shared a moving, powerful story of visiting the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline and reflecting on his mother’s suicide attempt, imploring the crowd to reach out and take care of each other.

Beck

With the other headliners, Weezer and Beck, you knew what you were gonna get--a nostalgia trip, a good time, great bands, and unselfish frontmen. Rivers Cuomo and company burned through their hits, good and bad, and the hits of other bands, whether they were slated to play Riot Fest (the aforementioned Blink cover) or not (Green Day’s “Longview”, A-Ha’s “Take On Me”). Of course, Weezer proved they were still goofy, inevitably playing their hit cover of Toto’s “Africa” and ending their set with a minute of Black Sabbath’s “Paranoid”. Beck’s set, meanwhile, was all sheen, even the former fuzz and buzz of songs like set and Odelay opener “Devil’s Haircut” falling into the adept hands of dynamically smooth musicians. Beck’s harmonies with the synth, keytar, and tambourine players/backup singers thrived on songs that aren’t even really sung, like “Loser” and “New Pollution”. Midway through the set, the band went acoustic for “Lost Cause” and Morning Phase standout “Blue Moon”. Sure, the set was almost entirely lacking surprise, Beck introducing songs with unambiguous puns containing the titles. But the thrilling encore, which included “Where It’s At”, an introduction of every band member with an interpolation of a song showcasing their skills (Gary Numan joined here for his “Cars”), and “Where It’s At” again, was what truly merited the plethora of beach balls that were previously bouncing throughout the crowd during lesser, newer, poppier songs.

The Front Bottoms

Many bands earlier in the day brought the same level of positive energy. The two best pop punk sets I saw were from The Front Bottoms and The Wonder Years. The former band changed time signatures expertly, their secret weapon Jenn Fantaccione, who played everything from trumpet (“Vacation Town”) to ukulele (“Maps”) to violin (“The Beers”). Drummer Mathew Uychich, wearing a Cubs shirt, led the band’s disco breakdowns with fervor, while Sella, armed with an acoustic guitar and the power and clarity of his voice, brought the basement show to a stadium sized sound on “Cough It Out”, “Au Revoir (Adios)”, and “Twin Sized Mattress”. The Wonder Years were certainly less instrumentally dynamic but no less exhilarating, celebrating the release of this year’s Sister Cities by working the crowd to jump and scream along. Lead singer Dan "Soupy" Campbell did a little too much letting the crowd sing for my taste, but at least the band’s setlist was structured admirably, saving highlights from their previous three albums, like “There, There”, “Cardinal”, and “Came Out Swinging” for moments of equal reflection and excitement. And Superchunk, while not quite pop punk, played a set that was nonstop anthems. Many of the songs from this year’s What a Time to Be Alive stood out, Jon Wurster effortlessly translating the title track’s beat, Jason Narducy’s high notes filling in admirably for Katie Crutchfield on “Erasure” (the crowd did the baritone of Stephen Merritt) and Laura Ballance on “Break The Glass”.

Superchunk

Now Cat Power was there for those who craved something different. Very soft, admittedly better for Pitchfork, Chan Marshall’s buttery, beautiful voice isolated amidst hints of synthesizer, guitars, and drums was nonetheless a refuge from sets that lacked subtlety. She started with a couple songs from Moon Pix and the title track to her upcoming Wanderer, which features Lana Del Rey (Marshall covered Del Rey’s “White Mustang” during her set). Marshall has a known history of stage fright due to substance abuse, which has subsided and been replaced by a funny and empathetic stage presence. For some reason, she pretended to hit baseballs into the crowd during “Metal Heart”--it was wonderful. Any sound issues that came up were resolved with sensitivity among band members. The crowd was enraptured. Marshall left the stage with a salute, mentioning that you’re supposed to salute a certain way to signify you’ve never lost a war. Well, she’s lost a few wars but is all the more powerful for it.

Cat Power

HEALTH put on an obliterating set laden with sound issues to the point the band had to cut it short. They claimed the heat was affecting their guitar pedals and synths but didn’t really offer excuses. Instead, they made it work, grateful for the crowd’s patience and devotion to the spiraling head-banging of John Famiglietti and pouding drums of BJ Miller. The tender, soft vocals of Jake Duzsik undercut the darkness of the music on songs like “New Coke”. Even Elvis Costello, recovering from cancer treatment, found a way to overcome his obstacles. If he had trouble keeping up with his own verses, his voice and guitar playing were still on point, making you realize why “Miracle Man”, “Pump It Up”, and “Radio, Radio” were classics in the first place.

There are always bones to pick with a festival. Mostly, as compared to previous years, this year’s full album plays were underwhelming, and the fest missed out on opportunities for other full plays (Interpol doing Turn On The Bright Lights instead of half of their set being post-Antics material would have been amazing). But considering the circumstances, Riot Fest--like its best performers--went on despite odds and troubles and succeeded through its unselfishness and confident curation.

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