C237

C237 is Zoë Madonna; musician, photographer, writer. She likes to make, photograph, and write about music. You'll find all of that here.

[c237]

BRB finding all the Fragrant World visuals

This is what happens when I'm not on the internet for a day. One of my personal favorite bands in the universe decides to leak their entire album and make me go on a hunt across the intertubes to find the songs.

1. Fingers Never Bleed

2. Longevity (already out)

3. Blue Paper (found it)

4. Henrietta (already out)

5. Devil and the Deed (found it)

6. No Bones (found it)

7. Reagan's Skeleton

8. Demon Road

9. Damaged Goods (found it)

10. Folk Hero Schtick

11. Glass of the Microscope

BRB gotta find all of them before they take them down tomorrow at 8.

[c237]

ALBUM REVIEW: PASSION PIT -- GOSSAMER

 "When you have forded the river, when you have crossed the mountain pass, you suddently find before you the city of Moriana, its alabaster gates transparent in the sunlight, its coral columns supporting pediments encrusted with serpentine, its villas all of glass like aquariums where the shadows of dancing girls with silvery scales swim beneath the medusa-shaped chandeliers. If this is not your first journey, you already know that cities like this have an obverse: you have only to walk a semi-circle and you will come into view of Moriana's hidden face, an expanse of rusting sheet metal, sackcloths, planks bristling with spikes, pipes black with soot, piles of tins, behind walls with fading signs, frames of staved-in straw chairs, ropes good only for hanging oneself from a rotten beam. From one part to the other, the city seems to continue, in perspective, multiplying its repertory of images: but instead it has no thickness, it consists only of a face and an obverse, like a sheet of paper, with a figure on either side, which can neither be separated nor look at each other." - Italo Calvino, Invisible Cities

Passion Pit lets Gossamer fly on the heels of the eye-opening and tear duct-activating Pitchfork article, but it appears some critics (I'm looking at you, Newsday) still only see the face of Gossamer: "perfectly packaged for partying." Gossamer's dark obverse details adult fears; the struggle to support a family in a recession (Take a Walk), the decision to let a beloved partner go when you know you can't make it without them (I'll Be Alright), the confusion everyone faces about love and its nature and what even to do with that word, attempted suicide, but it wraps it in pink, glitchy paper. It's easy to ignore the lyrics and dance, but unlike predecessor Manners, it's usually not too hard to hear them. Clearer and less altered than on Manners, Angelakos beckons you to look at the obverse, peeling back a corner of the paper.

The album is solid nearly straight through, with only a few skips. Angelakos runs with the "Sleepyhead" formula of distorted, high-pitched vocals and synths in song openings in "Cry Like a Ghost" and "I'll Be Alright," both of which come off sans hitches. The opening of the beautiful "Hideaway" recalls a chopped and screwed Explosions in the Sky track, and the ode to wedded bliss "On My Way" brings in a few notes of the Cure's "Plainsong," which saves the track from attaining Velveeta consistency. It's cheesy, but it's a good cheese. Probably the most surprising addition to the album's roster is the lyrically dissonant R&B jam "Constant Conversations;" Angelakos's keening falsetto comes the closest a white guy from Buffalo will ever come to Frank Ocean. (Which, considering it's Frank Ocean, is still miles, but it's closer than everyone else.)

The hit and miss children's choir of Manners (hit: Let Your Love Grow Tall, miss: Little Secrets) is replaced by a trio of sweet-voiced Swedes, Erato, who came to Angelakos's attention when his future wife sent him a video of them singing an a cappella "Call Your Girlfriend." The video's worth a watch for the locked in yet un-airbrushed quality of their harmonies as well as the most accurate use of the cup game as percussion, and they add smooth background vocals to "Hideaway" and "Mirrored Sea," among others. Unfortunately, their raw-sugar voices are whipped into cotton candy on a few points on the album (Carried Away stands out); combined with the rainbow sherbet Passion Pit already is, it gets to be a bit too much. Also not quite gelling with the rest of these albums is the 37-second "Two Veils to Hide My Face," a one-verse a cappella ditty about raindrops and trees.

For the majority of the album, walls of sound throw up with scarcely a respite, and Angelakos reassures that he'll be all right, he can beat the demons, and everything will turn out okay in the end. Whether he's telling you, telling himself, or both is your guess. Just as Calvino's Moriana is at once its face and its obverse, so is Gossamer . However, in the process of writing this review, I realized that Gossamer's faces can stare each other in the eye. One doesn't have to focus on either the springy beats or the bitter lyrics. Let's dance to Passion Pit and celebrate the irony. Everything is going wrong, but we're so happy.

Gossamer: 8/10

Credit for last line to the Wombats.

[c237]

A few disorganized thoughts on the Michael Angelakos article in Pitchfork

Here is how I tell the story of the "Buffalo Gals."

"So I was at Governor's Ball, alone, in the second row for Passion Pit. There were a bunch of kids from Hunter College High who knew people that I knew surrounding me, but I didn't know anyone there that day. I didn't care. Second row for Passion Pit. Wasn't complaining.

So they come on, and after the first song, "Moth's Wings," these two women next to me start yelling 'BUFFALO! BUFFALO!' And they do that after every song. They're shouting up at the band, and they're yelling 'MIKE ANGELAKOS! BUFFALO! BUFFALO!'

And so I ask them during a quiet spot why they're yelling, and one of them points at Michael and slurs out, "We're from Buffalo. We went to high school with him! We wanna see if we can get backstage." 

For the rest of the concert, they keep yelling "BUFFALO! BUFFALO!" but nothing happens except everyone looking annoyed at them when they start their shouting during the quiet sections of songs. I don't think they got their backstage passes."

The first step to killing a demon is naming it. He says in the article that he's up until now kept his bipolar disorder out of the spotlight on purpose so that wouldn't be the focus; I can't even fathom what he went through as he decided to go public about his mental health. I listened to "Manners" on the way home from work and saw the jumps and squiggles painted in a different shade than before. Before I read this article, these songs were instant portals to happiness: forgetting that life was going crappily or augmenting prior joy. Even when the lyrics were deep underground -- "I drink a gin and take a couple of my pills/And my parade will give you chills..." they never slid into full bitter territory. There was always a chord progression just so, or a synthetic sound that erased most of the bitterness, to follow on that lyric's tail.

After reading this article, I can't keep ignoring the little flashes, but the music's lost nothing for its new lack of insta-serotonin. These new songs are now tied to the things discussed in the article -- how Michael's future wife can't listen to a few songs on the album, how the sparkly, bouncy "Where We Belong" is based on a suicide attempt. I don't know if every time I listen to Manners now, I'll think of how the band smuggled reviews of the album into the hospital so Michael could read them, or when I listen to "I'll Be Alright," I'll think of Kristy tackling Michael to the floor so he wouldn't jump out the window, but the tint will be there.

At Governor's Ball, my friend commented that seeing PP live made it impossible to parse the lyrics. You couldn't hear Michael singing about taking pills or drinking gin. You actually thought he was going to be all right. No bitterness. Not even a hint. With Passion Pit, you don't hear the lyrics unless you try, with a few exceptions. Shortly after Gov Ball, I pulled the lyrics from the Internet and put them on my iPod. The chorus of "Seaweed Song" was particularly hard-hitting for me. I've found myself in that situation before, but my thoughts when I do find myself there don't sound like "Seaweed Song." I wonder how a thought like that gets turned into such beauty. If I believe this article, the effort can bring you close to death.

I read another article in the Guardian today.

 "You get in the crowd," he says, "and see the way they're dancing and smiling and jumping up and down and singing these songs and you're like, 'You have no idea what's going on!'

At Gov Ball, I was one of those dancing, smiling people. I knew the lyrics to "The Reeling," and understood them, but only knew the full lyrics to that and "Sleepyhead." It's easy to be fooled. A friend, and fellow fan, told me that "Little Secrets" was his least favorite PP song because of the children's choir's inimitably bouncy and inescapable "Higher and higher and higher..."

"It was like," my friend explained, "Yay! Yaaaay! Everyone's happy!" Therein lies the rub. Everyone is happy, and simultaneously -- not. 

A closing quote from the article: ""I don't think people talk about mental illness a lot, but they need to know it's OK to talk about how they are feeling. People are afraid of telling the truth because they think it's going to hurt everyone around them. I've kept so much inside that I've literally lost it. I wish more people would get help when they feel like they need it-- not just to look to medicine, but to the support of others." As he tells me this on a sticky June afternoon, he chokes up a bit."

One choked up C237, right here. Stay strong and fight those demons, Michael Angelakos. We believe in you.

[c237]

Nellie McKay performs in Madison Square Park. Photo by me.

[c237]

Concert Review: Nellie McKay, Madison Square Park, 7/11

"I hear that song is drug code of some sort," Nellie McKay grinned at the gathered crowd, her giant earrings sparkling. "Is it green?" She repeated the line from "A-Tisket, A-Tasket," the Ella Fitzgerald standard which she had just finished singing, with a screech and a comically low drop, and some contribution from her talented 5-piece backing band in for good measure.

She may have dressed like Doris Day, and her fourth album may be entirely covers of Doris Day's hits, but Nellie McKay is not Doris Day, and she knows it. For every unabashedly cheery chestnut she threw out, one of her own darkly comic, lyrically dissonant songs was there to follow it up and remind us that we are still in 2012 and not 1962. The performance was as genre-diverse as a liberal arts student's iPod, jumping from reggae (Caribbean Time) to standards (Sentimental Journey) to Latin (Bodega) to a surprisingly rocking cover of the Beatles' "I'm So Tired." McKay's voice was solid throughout, as was her backing band.

In the eighth year of her career, McKay knows how to work a crowd. She danced, drumming on her piano and flinging her Mad Men-blonde locks back and forth during her cover of Burl Ives's "Twinkle In Your Eye" and awkwardly twisting across the stage and grinning during the ukulele ditty "Mother of Pearl," which begins with Feminists don't have a sense of humor/Feminists just want to be alone... "I'm Michelle Bachmann and I approve this message!" she winked at the crowd following the latter. The laughter lasted for a full minute afterward. (Previous politicians who have "approved this message" include Dennis Kucinich and Sarah Palin.)

The age of the crowd ran the gamut from 5 to over 85; jazz fans, Brooklynites, indie kids (the equally ukulele-loving band SUPERCUTE! was there to pay their respects close to the stage), people who'd heard her at the num, and maybe a few passersby who were lured in by the music. Everyone seemed to be equally enchanted. McKay stumbled over her words in excitement near the end of the set, cramming as many songs as possible into her hour-and-a-half timeslot. "We're gonna play until we get arrested," she declared, and though I didn't see any arrests happening, I believe the crowd would have stayed until they did if she had kept playing.

Photos to follow.

[c237]

Maryland duo Wye Oak have a name that you'd expect to find labeling a few soft-voiced one-trick guitar-strummers, but their 2011 album Civilian packs more than a few sticks of rock n' roll dynamite. Coming off that, they've dropped "Spiral," the third release in twelve singles that will be released by Adult Swim for the summer. With a strangely haunting marimba loop and more reverb than you can shake a loop pedal at, "Spiral" is a worthy listen reminiscent of something you'd find on MTV in 1987.

I'd Soundtrack it To:  Drive through a hazy, traffic-filled city. A storm breaks overhead.

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Before you start to think Murals is a pale imitation of all those other soft-voice-male-led bands, turn your ear to "Eyes of Love," a folky frolic that will make you feel simultaneously like you are on a hammock and in a speeding van full of hippies.

Find it at Soundcloud, and watch for their new 10".

I soundtrack it to: Road trip through Vermont.

[c237]

Must Watch Music Video of the day: Chicago Music Exchange's Alex Chadwick sums up the history of rock n' roll in 100 riffs. The musical equivalent of the "Evolution of Dance." (Which has an arrangement for 5th grade choir now, Baby Got Back not included.)

Somewhat major quibble: only two female guitarists' riffs out of 100. Also, too much Jack White.

[c237]

I built another invisible city

This one is called Clarice.

I don't plan on posting any more Invisible Cities until I have at least six or seven though. Stay tuned...

[c237]

The Presets -- Youth in Trouble

Aussie electro duo The Presets release their first new material in four years. The result is a kaleidoscopic, ominous whirl that never loses steam over its six and a half minute sprint.

I'd Set It To: Chase scene through a shiny city. Nameless Feds on black motorcycles chasing youthful protagonist for whatever reason.

The video is not for the faint of heart or the weak of eye.

[c237]

Antlers -- Drift Dive

Antlers take most of the cruise-ship cheese out of slide guitar as well as take home the Accurate Song Title Award of the week with "Drift Dive," taken from upcoming 4-track EP Undersea.  An excellent track for a lazy summer day when the A/C isn't working and all you want is some mint lemonade with ice. If there's any cruise ship-ness to this, it's a very lonely cruise ship, as directed by Sofia Coppola.

I'd Soundtrack It To: Our hero/heroine is drifting aimlessly in a pool after a messy breakup, with nowhere to go. He/she falls off the float in slow motion and their makeup begins to run.

Undersea is out July 24.

[c237]

 On previous album Með suð í eyrum við spilum endalaust, it looked like Sigur Ros were veering away from their dreamy long-song roots and more into territory of, if not pop, something as close as they could get without Not Being Sigur Ros. Singing in English! Songs under 4 minutes! What next?

Four years after the release of Með suð… now we know what's next. The English singing, pounding drums, and songs that would be harder to fall asleep by seem to be reserved for lead singer Jonsi's solo project, and Sigur Ros have sailed off the other end of their tracks: fully away from pop, percussion, and any semblance of radio-friendliness. Valtari means "steamroller" in Icelandic; the album, clocking in at just over an hour, features minimal percussion, minimalistic arrangements, and very little of the minor-key, sometimes terrifying beauty that appeared so often on their earlier albums. In its place is major-key melancholy and heavy use of a choir and strings; sometimes it works, such as on the slow-building "Varúð" and "Dauðalogn,"" but most of the time, it comes into danger of drifting aimlessly, such as on the titular track. If Valtari is a steamroller, it is a skeleton steamroller slowly rusting in an abandoned junkyard against a blanket of gray in the sky; it is a steamroller in the clouds watched by a girl floating on her back in a pool.

The final tracks of Sigur Ros albums have traditionally been quietly beautiful (Avalon, All Alright, Heysatan), and Valtari's "Fjogur Piano" takes quiet and lovely one step. Entirely instrumental and full of quivering violins and sustained piano notes, it slips out of post-rock and almost into full-on ambient. I listened to it while writing this review, and found myself not writing for a few minutes, but simply staring out the window of the train. However, without the motion of the train and the visuals outside, I would have definitely found it stagnant. The essential spark behind other Sigur Ros albums -- the slight nervousness of Von and ( ), the explosions of color on Með suð and Takk... -- was unfortunately almost nonpresent.

Valtari: 6.5/10

Sigur Ros - Varúð

[c237]

Visit Original Link

This is my Valdrada again. I tweaked some things. I like it better now.

Much love

C237

[c237]

Governor's Ball: the experience, part 2

I arrived at the island at 10 for my 10:30 shift, and immediately noticed there were many more young (as in, my age) volunteers for that day than there had been for the day previous. Based on the lineup, I had supposed that the crowd today would be older, as most of it was traditional rock acts that have been around for a while, so Sunday was, logically, the volunteer day for all the dance and hip-hop kids from Saturday who couldn’t/didn’t want to pay for a ticket.

My shift was listed as “VIP” on the card, and I thought that would mean I was waiting on folks under the VIP tent. However, what “VIP” meant was directing traffic; specifically, directing the VIP shuttles from Williamsburg and Philadelphia into a certain lot and making sure no one else came in. We had a few disgruntled public officials/taxi drivers who refused to move; see earlier entry on people who don’t listen. Luckily, my supervisor was a nice guy a few years older than me who also knew what it was like to deal with grumpy drivers.

My job: to give directions to people who didn’t know where to park, and to move the gate aside whenever I saw anything which looked like a charter bus coming down the road. This I did five times over the course of two and a half hours; four for shuttles, and one when I saw a bus coming down the road which turned out to be a band bus -- it drove right past and gave me a faceful of dust. (The trailer had a Texas plate, so thanks a lot, Explosions in the Sky...I think.)

Nick sent me off at 1 when he heard there would be no more shuttles till after my shift’s official end, so I went on my merry way to get my card signed and called my friend Declan, who had been on the island the previous day. Another mutual friend of ours, Luisa, had come too for Sunday. So met up, the long day of music started...

The Jezabels: I’d never heard even the name of this band of Aussies prior to the festival, but now I want to hear everything of theirs that they can. When the set started as my shift ended, the crowd was about five deep, but when their set ended, it was much bigger. Hayley Mary’s voice was sirenesque, even though slightly nervous, and the music beckoned lunch-eaters and nappers to their feet and out of the protective shade. She’s not as visually synced with her music yet as, say, Sarah from Phantogram, but with a few years the Jezabels should be moving up the festival list. These are one to watch.

I did not know any Jezabels tracks prior to the show and have yet to procure a setlist, but I’ll be sure to find out what my favorite tracks from the set were later. 8/10

The Jezabels -- Endless Summer

Freelance Whales: Lead singer wished everyone a happy Pride and asked if everyone was wearing sunscreen as the day’s rainbow balloon string soared into the air over the island. They veer dangerously into twee territory at times on their recordings (the phrase "player hater" comes to mind) but Freelance Whales’s loud festival performances of usually quiet tracks like “Hannah” boosted the power, which in turn kept the twee to a minimum. The songs lost nothing except a bit of lyrical clarity. Again, I didn’t know many tracks by them by name, but I’ll be listening to a lot more of them in the future. 7/10

Freelance Whales -- Hannah

I left a bit early so I could snag a second row spot for...

Phantogram: Second row, standing with Matthew, who I’d met the day before on the extremely long check-in line. The only song of theirs I knew by name at the time of performance was “When I’m Small,” but the day was lining up to make me a fan of pretty much everyone I heard. Sarah Barthel, looking like an updated, R-rated version of Mad Men’s Megan Calvet, delivered a solid performance of belts and moans. Josh Carter kept the guitar line as leanly muscular as a Greenpointer’s arm for the most part, save for a few moments of confusion. Knowing their audience, they didn’t neglect crowd pleasers “When I’m Small,” which began with some not-so-subtle sighs from Barthel, and “Futuristic Casket,” an extended version of which ended the set. They debuted a new song at the beginning of the set, title unknown, and I’m looking forward to hearing that, and them, again.  8/10

Phantogram -- Mouthful of Diamonds

Cults: One of the only vans in the huge lot of tour buses, New York’s own Cults took the stage at 3 PM. Madeline proudly announced that her parents were backstage before riding the wall of sound all the way to the finish, with no vocal hiccups along the way. For the festival setting, she traded her breathy, girlish voice for more of a proto-rock n’roll belt, which we only see on the album in the higher notes of “You Know What I Mean” and similar; the Dixie Cups turned into the Shangri-Las for a day. Being such a young band, the set was a perfect length for them to showcase favorites such as “Abducted” and “Go Outside” as well as debut a more dance-like track from their upcoming project. I’m a member of the cult. Bonus authenticity points for actually using a glockenspiel on “Go Outside;”  synth glocks are cheating. 7/10

Cults -- Abducted

I skipped Devendra Barnhart to get food, and Luisa and Declan went to see Built To Spill but I couldn’t break the crowd to get to them. I passively listened to about half the set from the side; they’re definitely one to check out later. Halfway through the set, I decided to get us spots for...

Cage the Elephant: The most pop-esque band on the lineup, it also attracted the most sometimes-obnoxious but always entertaining crowd. Singer Matt Shultz proudly informed the crowd that he had lost his voice, he couldn’t sing for shit (accurate), and the manager advised them to cancel but they were going to play anyway. Though the vocals would have been clearly the low point otherwise, the energy of the crowd was high enough that it didn’t matter at all. I’m not a huge fan of theirs, but it was definitely worth seeing just for the experience. 5/10

Cage the Elephant -- Rubber Ball

Matt stage-dived three times during the course of the show, and the motion of the crowd carried me forward so I was standing in the front row by the end, in a prime spot for...

Explosions in the Sky: My favorite forever and always. The only way these guys wouldn’t get a 10 is if an amp caught fire and they had to end the show, and that would probably get a 10 anyway because -- amp on fire.

But the actual show. Declan, Luisa and I were in the very front for an hour before the band actually started, and we chatted with our neighbors and watched Explosions soundcheck. (I have a huge amount of respect reserved for any band that makes the sunset slot at Gov Ball and still tunes their own instruments.)

Declan said to me, "You know the only better thing than watching Explosions live? Not watching them live." I'd never noticed it before, but I was extra conscious during the performance of how much my eyes were closed. (It was a lot.) I was also hanging onto the railing for dear life -- why? I don't know. One hour, six songs all the way through, no stops, no talking, so much beauty. I can only aspire to one day create a fraction of the beauty those five people create on stage on a daily basis.

Sometimes I wonder whether the amount they seem to care about the people who love their music is all a front, but from my brief interaction with them in Michigan last year, I don't think it's fake at all. 10/10

Explosions in the Sky -- Postcard from 1952

After Explosions, Declan and Luisa had to leave so Luisa could catch her train. Two thoughts came into my mind: 1. I want to meet Explosions again! and 2. I have to pee.

So off I went to the Porta Potties by the entrance of the artist compound, I did my business, checked my face to make sure I was presentable enough to charm the guard, and shuffled towards the entrance, trying to be inconspicuous. However, when I got there, a very drunk girl who REALLY wanted to meet Explosions (one member in particular) was arguing with the guard. I obviously wasn’t going to get anywhere, so I went off to get a waffle and ate it while watching Modest Mouse.

Beck: I heard him, and I danced to him, but I didn’t SEE him. I met up with my friend Emma from Oberlin for this one, and we were all the way at the back. Being a short girl, I couldn’t see a thing unless I went up on my very tip toes, and even then I could only see the top of Beck’s hat. The set opened with a bang with rock n’ roll hits like “Black Tambourine” and “Girl,” which had the crowd dancing, but he soon slid into the more acoustic, slower material of Sea Changes, and I started getting sleepy (logical, considering I had barely sat down for the last 12 hours.) I had to leave at 10:30, and I was hoping I would hear “E-Pro” live, but I didn’t get to. A setlist check later revealed E-Pro was the last song played. Curses! 7/10

Beck -- Soul of a Man

A lovely weekend on Randall’s Island overall. I’ve got some listening to do now.

[c237]

The Very Best: "We OK"

Afro pop outfit The Very Best are back with another Tinariwen meets Architecture in Helsinki bounce down the street. A pure shot of optimism and sunshine to your brain. Their second album "MTMTMK" is out July 16; in the meantime, have a listen to "We OK," featuring K'Naan, who you'll recognize from the 2009 World Cup anthem "Waving Flag."

Stream available at NPR. It's about halfway down the page.

[c237]

Governor's Ball: the experience, part 1

I knew I wanted to go to Governor's Ball as soon as I saw the lineup: two of my favorite bands, one which I had never seen live (Passion Pit) and one which I will see live every opportunity I get (Explosions in the Sky,) plus a bunch of other acts that've been on my list for a while (Cults, Phantogram, Freelance Whales.) The only issue was the money: how was a broke college student like me to come up with the necessary cash? As it turns out, I didn't have to. Being a legal adult means I can be a volunteer -- in exchange for 7.5 hours of my time, I get in both days for $15.

SATURDAY

Not wanting to get up at 6:30 AM for my 9:30 call time, I crashed with the lovely Siffert in Manhattan on Friday night, and was up at the island at the appointed time. The Randall's Island shuttle stop was in East Harlem, so everyone going to the festival really stood out; it was slightly unsettling. The bus driver kept telling us to be careful because there were "lots of unsavories on that route." I didn't see any, but I kept a close hand on my bag. That Baggalini is great for festivals, with the only detraction being that it looks like a mom bag.

I waited in line for about an hour, feeling very relieved that I had my sun hat. Talked to a few people on the line, got my card and found out I wouldn't be on shift till 1 PM -- it was about 11 by then. I scoped out the food trucks, found out the "meal voucher" they gave us was only worth $5, and got myself an Asia Dog for $4.50. That plus water was lunch, so I listened to K.Flay from a shady spot and didn't really pay attention.

Art Vs. Science were a bunch of goofballs in silver space suits from Australia who played not-so-surprisingly silly dance-pop songs. Their lyrics got a bit grating at times, but they were amusing to watch. I couldn't figure out whether or not they were singing "Use your flippers to get down" from where I was, but a lyric lookup reveals that yes, they were. Score: 4/10

Art Vs. Science -- Flippers

My shift started after that, so I headed for my assignment: guarding the giant wooden "GOV BALL NYC" on the hill with the food trucks and making sure no one was standing on them. Most people were pretty chill when we told them not to do it, but as the day went on and the alcohol flowed, it started to be a bit more difficult. The lowlight came right before Major Lazer went on, when a bunch of kids decided to do the express yourself dance against the letters. They're completely hollow and can't support human weight, so I went to ask them to kindly not do that. They said they just wanted one picture and could I hold on one second so they could take it? I asked them again and they just didn't listen. There were foot marks all over the A of "BALL" after they were done -- I pointed that out and one guy shrugged and said "It might rain." (There was no rain forecasted, but I decided not to say anything.) Then the boss came over and told us to be more watchful -- how can you be more "watchful" if they just don't listen to you?

I was able to hear Penguin Prison, Santigold, and some of Major Lazer from my spot on the hill, but wasn't paying that much attention. My shift ended and...

Atmosphere: I'm not a huge hip-hop fan, but I decided to check them out. Wasn't too impressed, especially with their "Girls, shave those pubes" lyric, but they had a few catchy songs. I wouldn't see them again or look for them. 3/10

Atmosphere -- Sunshine

Chromeo: I had a pretty good spot at the beginning, and managed to get even further forward with the crowd motion. Not every band can pull off keyboards with women's legs and completely identical backup singers without looking like complete tools, but Chromeo managed to keep the tool factor down and the cool 80s-reminiscent synthpop factor up. They were eminently danceable, the crowd was really into them, and sometime during the set I managed to get covered in glitter by an Aussie girl with red lipstick. I hadn't known a single thing about them, but by the end I was singing "She says I'm--NOT ROMANTIC...I say she's -- TOO DRAMATIC..." with the rest of them. Would see again, would buy the album. 7/10

Chromeo -- Night by Night

I didn't see Duck Sauce because I was camping out for Passion Pit in hopes of snagging a front row spot; unfortunately, there was a rather tall and rather wide dude clinging to the front row who refused to switch with me and the other short girl next to me even though he could have readily seen over our heads. I met a bunch of kids from Hunter College HS who knew people I knew, and it was fun talking to them. I feel so old...I graduated when they were sophomores and now I'm going to be a sophomore again.

Passion Pit:  Every time I see a band for the first time that I've wanted to see live for a while, I'm always slightly scared they won't measure up to what I think they'll be. Passion Pit, however, completely satisfied. Michael Angelakos was full of energy in body, even if his voice flagged at times. The backing band took a back seat to the Buffalonian teddy bear with the high voice and the light show projected over the crowd and onto the screen at the back of the stage.

They played a full set of crowd-pleasers, bookending the set with two Manners favorites: "Moth's Wings" to start and "Little Secrets" to end. They didn't skip any of the hits (though with a band as young as Passion Pit, it's hard to skip hits.) Both new singles from Gossamer, "Take a Walk" and "I'll Be All Right," got a run through the crowd, which approved most heartily. (One quibble pointed out by Declan; in the live environment, the pivotal lyric in "All Right," about taking pills and drinking gin, is inaudible, leading anyone who listens to believe that the singer will actually be all right.) I got to hear my two favorites "Smile Upon Me" and "Let Your Love Grow Tall," and they debuted an album track the name of which I have since forgotten. They run a great show, and I can't wait to hear them when Michael Angelakos has his voice back -- luckily for me, they're coming to Columbus in November and Emma and I are going to see them. 9/10

Passion Pit -- Moth's Wings

DSLRs were not allowed at the festival unless one had a photo pass. I didn't know enough to apply for one, so I had to make do with my iPod and my dad's 5-year-old point and shoot. Next year in photo pass-ship, I hope.

Best/worst moment of the set: Two women who went to high school with Michael Angelakos would invariably yell "MIKE ANGELAKOS!" and "BUFFALO!" every time there was a quiet moment. They explained to us that they were trying to get backstage passes; they had both messaged him on Facebook, being friends from way back, but had received no reply. Not sure if they got them...

I stayed for a bit of Cudi, but I don't like rap shows when I'm there alone, so I left at about 10 to crash at Siffert's again. Part 2 tomorrow...

[c237]

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Valdrada (C237)

I haven't made a song in a while. I thought I'd make one to commemorate this blog.

Made with voice, accordion, and GarageBand. Built-in mic because my USB mic is broken. Still a few bumps I need to work out on this one.