ALL TOMORROW'S PARTIES: PART ONE (Friday)

Feel free to skip the first couple of paragraphs; the meat of things starts below the personal back story, but if you wanna come along for the whole ride, go right on ahead, sailor.

The multi-day music festival is not something we really "do" here in Canada. We get some one-day things rolling through my neck of the woods (Virgin Festival, Warped Tour), but unfortunately, many of those one-day things all-day suck (Virgin Festival, Warped Tour). I remember reading through issues of Terrorizer (a British metal magazine (that is, about, not forged from, metal) in high school, and being absolutely floored at the weekend heavy metal camps, where European metalheads could congregate in a field out in Germany, bring a tent and some beer, and rock the fuck out for three days straight while an amazing line-up played from noon 'til dawn. Wacken, Bloodstock, Graspop... a dime a dozen over there.

As time went on, my tastes changed, but I was nonetheless jealous of the folks across the pond. How's this for an idea: take a really great band, have them pick a bunch of other really great bands, and have them all play over the course of a weekend? Bloody brilliant!, I'm sure they said over tea, adjusting monocles, etc. And so for many a year I was insanely jealous of the UK's musician-curated festival called All Tomorrow's Parties.

Eventually, ATP found it's way to North America, specifically New York, but actually specifically to Monticello, a nowhere town two hours from New York. And fuck, the line-ups were just as stellar and the whole experience sounded absolutely incredible.

So I went.

Earlier this summer, my girlfriend and I were browsing the line-up of old festivals, drooling and gawking and how cool would that be-ing. It would be so cool, it was decided. So a after a few extra shifts at work, some emails, some bus tickets, we set it up. September 10, we are leaving on a Greyhound bus from Toronto to New York, arriving the next day. Rad.

(At this point I will spare you the boredom of the 10+ hour bus ride, but just for the record: the new "extra leg room" Greyhound buses? Bullshit. They're uncomfortable as hell. The leg room is fine, but they went and fucked up the back and neck room, which made sleeping next to impossible.)

Unfortunately, due to Manhattan traffic and a missed transfer we missed The Drones playing Wait Long By The River and the Bodies of Your Enemies Will Float By. So I can't say much about that. Or anything, really.

The Feelies were up next and we were able to catch 80% of their set, wherein they performed Crazy Rhythms in its entirety. The jangly post-punk felt kind of flat on record, but the songs are definitely there, and live they absolutely nailed it. Super high energy for an album conceived almost 30 (!) years ago and a rock-solid performance. Here's hoping the reunion isn't just for touring.

Continuing the night's "Don't Look Back" agenda, where bands faithfully recreate entire albums live, Dirty Three (with Nick Cave on piano) did as much of Ocean Songs as they could fit into their one-hour set. Hyperdelicate post-rock doesn't normally translate into thrilling live show, but Warren Ellis was able to bust out all matter of kicks and jumps and wildly frontman-like behaviour all while cradling a violin and more than making up for his lethargic bandmates. Luckily, Cave's appearance didn't overshadow the material; his additions were subtle and tasteful, and the set was flawless. Definitely a highlight.

Suicide performing Suicide (as the ATP website affirmed, "their first LP", not actual suicide) was one of the main things that sealed my decision to make the journey to New York. Nothing short of legendary, the duo were wildly inventive for the late 70's; when punk was a guitar-bass-drum affair, Suicide worked as a duo, with drum machines and keyboards, with songs often being just an abrasive, industrial rhythm under half-singing punctuated with manic shrieks and bursts of noise. Now, 32 years later... things are bad. Real bad. A set list is one thing, but lyric sheets? For your own music? And having the sound guy read them was just sad. A deadpan roadie saying "Ghost rider. Motorcycle hero." into the microphone made me cringe. And so did Suicide themselves. It was like watching that drunken, creepy, "funny" uncle do Suicide karaoke at your family reunion. "Rocket USA" was especially embarrassing, as Alan Vega mumbled and groaned and generally showed his age. Admittedly things clicked a bit as the set went on, but it was still kind of... sad.

I never really got why everyone went apeshit over Panda Bear. Sure, Person Pitch was groovy, but it wasn't as mindblowing as you'd be lead to believe. Reverb-drenched minimal loops and Mr Lennox's soaring chorusy voice are lovely and all, but each song is just that on top of a creative sample, and it all becomes very samey very quickly. So live it's no surprise that the loops become more annoying (and unpleasantly bass-heavy) to the point of incoherency, the vocals do their normal Panda Bear thing, and the "show" consists of a man standing at a mess of wires in front of a projection for an hour. Monotonous, really.

David Cross did a funny, if extremely drunken, set, and I don't know what else to say about a comedian. He spoke well, I guess? Nice voice? Good jokes? He was a comedian, and he was funny. What more do you want?

I only caught about 10 minutes of The Jesus Lizard before being so impossibly tired I could not stand it, but much unlike Suicide, they seem to still be hauling ass despite their age. David Yow immediately found his way into the crowd, and right off the bat people/fists/feet/bottles were flying. Would've been a great time had I not been dead on my feet.


Stay tuned for parts 2 and 3... sometime. This is kind of a tedious thing to write. Is it tedious to read? Let me know.