As an avid music festival attendee, and a second-time Bumbershoot-goer, I decided the best way to recap the three-day music and arts festival in Seattle was to give you a play-by-play review of all of the wonderful things that I happened to take in at Seattle Centre over the Labour Day long weekend (just because I can). So, if you were there, compare notes. And if you weren’t, prepare yourself…
Saturday, August 31
11:20 am: Did you know that you can take a ferry called the Clipper from downtown Victoria to downtown Seattle in less than three hours and drink $3 Mimosas and beers to your heart’s content? Some people take anti-nauseau pills when on the open sea, others drink copious amounts of $3 craft brew IPAs.
2:45 pm: In through the Bumbershoot gates just in time to see Toronto’s new wave glam god Diamond Rings. The ultra-pale skin of all the band’s members suffers from extreme heat and blazing sunlight. Songs suffer from poor timing. Definitely a band you’d want to see at 2:45 am instead.
3:30 pm: The endearing weirdness of Thao Nguyen and her Get Down Stay Down (“We brought the full Get Down Stay Down with us today,” she said coyly) was a welcome sound from Bumbershoot’s awkwardly named Fountain Lawn Stage. Too bad I needed to cut Thao and the Get Down Stay Down‘s set short for…
4:00 pm: Kendrick Lamar. What do I say? Every critic and his/her Labradoodle claims this guy is a phenom… one of the best live acts in the world, claims someone or the other. I’m here to tell you that his show is a non-stop barrage of lowest common denominator audience-baiting and some wholly uninteresting rhymes. Biggest disappointment of Bumbershoot and, uh-oh, we’re only a couple of hours into the first day. (Luckily, Lamar remained the biggest disappointment for the whole festival.)
4:45 pm: Right into Bumbershoot’s impressive comedy lineup for How Was Your Week? with Julie Klausner. Supposedly, Klausner is some big-shot podcast person and has been heralded as one of the funniest pod people in America. You could tell. Her talk-show-style show was laughtastic and featured guest Patton Oswald and musical guest Ted Leo (Pharmacists, or, going way back, Chisel, or going way, way back, Citizen’s Arrest… jeez, you’d think I was 50 years old and a former DIY show booker for New York hardcore venue CBGB’s [I am not]).
5:15 pm: Ran outside, caught the last song of Seattle hip-hop crew The Physics. Sounded good, sweating bullets, I often try to take on too much. It’s a life problem.
6:30 pm: Right back to the comedy stage for Patton Oswald and Friends. Oswald introduced the show, then brought out funny people Natasha Leggero, Marc Maron, and some guy (a comedian in character) who did full-on redneck poetry. Oswald’s set was funny, ha-ha, and then really funny, ha-ha-ha. He did a joke whose punch line was “nigger cunt shovel rape” and it was met with more laughs than you would expect. What does that say about us as people!?!?!?!? [Punchline here.]
7:00 pm: I was challenged by a zombie in a clown costume during “art performance” Zombie Attack. We had a stare down for about three minutes. I won. I will not be intimidated by a guy in a clown costume pretending to be a zombie at a music festival. That’s just not how I roll.
7:15-8:30 pm: Dinnertime. Best bet was to get outside the Seattle Centre grounds and to the nearest pub. People in America like really loud football and inexplicably salty fries.
8:30 pm: Jason Bonham’s Led Zeppelin Experience was a treat. Bonzo’s son and a bunch of rented hands playing Led Zeppelin songs to a tee. Their singer looked like that douchebag from Disturbed, but sounded exactly like Robert Plant. Quite the mindfuck.
9:15 pm: Caught the tail-end of Atlanta-based indie rock synth-pop phenom Ernest Greene’s Washed Out. The only reason I hope he’s still around in five years is so I can joke that his band name should be Washed Up.
9:30 pm: Sallie Ford and the Sound Outside was a surprise highlight of the day, combining geek chic with soulful blues and rockabilly. Any band fronted by a sexy librarian type is A-okay by me. When she has the pipes of a chain-smoking trucker, even better!
9:45 pm: Quick stop past the Starbucks Stage (festival sponsors for 41 yeeeeeeaaaaaarrrrrssss) for funk saxophone legend Maceo Parker, who’s bass player really should have been recruited by funk metallers in the ’90s (like, say, Infectious Grooves or 24/7 Spyz). This guy could slap a bass like you… would… not… believe. Maceo, who must be pushing 75, was amazing as well; a true showman.
10 pm: Slight beer buzz is wearing off in a big way, but I don’t care. I’m in the Key Arena watching Seattle rock legends Heart kick out the jams like it was the late ’70s again. Ann and Nancy Wilson still had the pipes and the pep, and rivalled any of the big rock bands I’ve seen this year (Black Sabbath, KISS, Iron Maiden, Journey…. god, I’m a rock nerd).
10:30 pm: It seems synth-demons Crystal Castles (slap me if I use the word synth again in this play-by-play, please) like to take the Grimes approach to live sound. Bury the vocals, crank the, ahem, synths (…cringe…) and pretend it’s art. Too bad, because with better sound I could have been interested.
Sunday, September 1
1:15 pm: Into the festival grounds again after having a couple of breakfast Bloody Marys (one of my absolute favourite parts about any trip to America). They free pour in the US, did you know that? Every drink tastes like at least a triple. Canada is the worst. Right into the private KEXP Radio VIP/press-only lounge, a very “intimate” setting, I’m told, to see singer-songwriter Matt Pond. Featuring a stellar backing band, Pond delivered emo-charged rock songs in the vein of other guys who grew up in the punk scene and now play solo songs. After his set I couldn’t help but ask him about Waxwing (best Seattle band ever, including Nirvana, look ’em up) who just got back together. He seemed slightly concerned at my line of questioning, as I suppose it was a weird thing to ask right after his set, but he’s friends with them, so I figured he’d have an opinion, and I also thanked him for a great set, so sue me.
2 pm: My inner teenaged lesbian found me sitting politely in the Key Arena watching twin sisters Tegan and Sara. Did I ever tell you that I was sensitive to sugar? Made it through four songs…
2:30 pm: Back to the secret KEXP Radio lounge for melodic punk/post-hardcore legend Bob Mould. He played Husker Du songs. He played Sugar songs. He jumped and bounded about. His melodic voice was spot on. He was legend.
2:45 pm: FIDLAR claim to be skate-punk, but I know the real skate-punk, so they better just shut up and play their garage-punk. A drunken mess featuring an hilariously obnoxious dude with a homemade shirt that read “Straight Edge” with a huge Sharpie X though it. Songs about cocaine and drinking, and these are our role models, boys and girls. Did I care? Nope. I think (or hope) it’s satire. Thumbs up.
3:30 pm: David Bazan a.k.a. Pedro the Lion is the ultimate beer garden-break music. His contemplative acoustic tunes were deeply religious and deeply boring. An allergic reaction to sad bastard drove me to a cheaper and better drink option than $7 Shock Tops.
3:45 pm: Did not see fun. Period.
4:45 pm: Over to comedy-land to see Competitive Erotic Fan Fiction with Bryan Cook, which is entirely as much fun as it sounds. Comedians reading erotica they had penned with only suggestions of certain shows or movies (Harry Potter, The Princess Bride, etc.) made for some serious titillation of the funny bone.
5:15 pm: Running around stage to stage trying find my jam to Eric Burdon and the Animals, Mates of State, The Comettes, and Katie Kate, with little to no success.
6:15 pm: Now the actual live set of Bob Mould. Pitchfork.com losers in the crowd were too busy geeking out on which Sugar songs he was playing to truly appreciate the sonic fury of it all. No one moved, no one got hurt. Lame.
7 pm: Zombie Attack “art performance” features a hippie zombie chasing a senior citizen couple down the main street of Bumbershoot. Really? And this is “art”?
8 pm: A rancid hamburger (really, SPOILER ALERT, I puked later that night) was prep for ’90s alt-rock nerds The Breeders and their front-to-back performance of their 1993 opus, Last Splash. I found them lacking in energy, but I was ready to bounce of the walls and they were only ready to bounce a flat basketball while smoking a big doobie (figuratively).
8:55 pm: Caught last two songs of The Zombies‘ set. Missing most of this ’60s pop band was a horrible thing to do to my Zombies-loving friend and former Nexus columnist, Donald Kennedy. Buy a ticket next year, sucker!
9:30 pm: Feet tired, feeling weird. Over to the Experience Music Project for the DJ stylings of Las Vegas’ DJ Girl 6. Feeling even weirder, and not just because of her tired casino beats.
10 pm: Throw up repeatedly. Instantly feel much better. (See, not so bad…)
Monday, September 2
12 pm: In again to the Bumbershoot grounds by noon, super proud of myself. No, wait, it was 1:15, but my chicken steak breakfast was incredible.
1:15 pm: SUPERCHUNK, easy… Superchunk, in the KEXP Radio lounge. Been almost 20 years since I saw these North Carolina emotional-punk masters in a live setting. Sadly, bass player Laura Ballance was not in attendance, nursing her hyperacusis, which is a horrible thing for a person in a band to have (look it up). Instead we get Bob Mould’s touring bassist, who handles Laura’s melodic background vocals with grace. Band leader Mac McCaughin sounds as powerful as ever with his angel pipes and he’s energy-filled with his pogo jumps. And in an “intimate” theatre setting for live radio! Stay tuned for more when they hit the Fountain Lawn stage.
2 pm: The Men are a band I could see every night and be happy. The Brooklyn five-piece have the classic rock worship, they have the punk/garage infectiousness, they have the big, sweeping psych-rock tendencies, and they have extreme volume on their sides. Unfortunately, their bass player wasn’t drinking tequila straight from the bottle this time like he was at a recent Vancouver show. He also seemed to be nursing a thrashing-sore wrist (I can relate, more on that in a bit).
3:30 pm: 15 minutes of power-pop institution Red Kross before ducking back into the private lounge for the “Slayer of bluegrass (TM Jason Schreurs)” of Trampled by Turtles. Again, pure maniacal mania. Sweating up a storm over here.
4:30-5:15 pm: Pre-Baroness beer break. Found a spot for cheap pitchers, remember this spot.
5:15 pm: Baroness, probably the only true metal band on the bill, delivers the gods from heavens. I twist my ankle on some genius’ discarded backpack left precariously in the mosh pit. This is my Mother Nature telling me to slow down.
6:15 pm: New beer spot to nurse the pain. Tempted to hit first aid tent, think better of it. Hello Nurse Blue Moon!
7:15 pm: Superchunk proves that music is so powerful, in fact, that it has the power to make even the staunchest of ’90s college rock nerds find their inner groove. Or, their inner jump in one spot and shake your shoulders and head around. Make sure your glasses don’t fall off, guy holding that signed Bob Mould poster. Found seven other lovelies to really dance with. Thanks, friends!
8:45 pm: Two songs of Justin Townes Earle, son of country/Americana singer Steve Earle. So tempted to yell, “Play ‘Copperhead Road’!” I do not. He does not.
9 pm: Deerhunter stinks up the joint with some really dull, spacey sounding indie rock. Favourite beer place, it is.
9:45-11:15 pm: The holy triumvirate of inventive DJ Bassnectar, the bluegrass stylings of Trampled by Turtles (again, on an outdoor stage this time), and the noisey, shoegazey UK sounds of The Joy Formidable. Dragging my leg like I suffered one of the arty zombie attacks, ankle swollen and bruised, mind swirling with happy times music.
Another Bumbershoot done, and with very little synth-rock. Yay!
Shit, I just said “synth” again.