Jul 8, 2013
<3 <3 FLOWER CHILD MUSE <3 <3
seen from Netherlands
seen from France
seen from Russia
seen from Finland
seen from Sweden
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from Japan
seen from Australia
seen from United Arab Emirates
seen from Yemen
seen from Greece
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Greece
<3 <3 FLOWER CHILD MUSE <3 <3
Sasquatch 2013 Coverage: Tame Impala
The atmosphere was tense at the Yeti stage once again as we eagerly awaited the arrival of the Australian rockers. I busied myself with conversation and met a few interesting members of the press as well as a full bearded Russian from California. The wait for Youth Lagoon was nearly a half hour the night previous, and this time an hour and a half had passed before Kevin Parker and his band finally took the stage.
Tame Impala – Alter Ego
The sound was pure energy. Fresh and vibrant. There was an aura about them, and their happiness was palpable. This was a band in their absolute prime, completely infused with their sound and thoroughly enjoying it.
A few weeks prior they parted ways with bassist Nick Allbrook, and lead singer Kevin Parker announced that it was Cam Avery’s first performance with the band. Avery waved behind a huge grin, and the new bassist bounced and beamed like the Cheshire Cat behind the fog.
Parker was a particularly interesting performer, his sheepish attitude and girlish charm were infectious as he acted out lyrics between guitar riffs. “It feels like I only go backwarrrds” he whined as he bashfully played charades with his words. I felt it important to note that despite the chill of the evening breeze, Parker was barefoot on stage. Perhaps this was simply a factor of their music; a lot of pedal-work was required for guitarists and an acute accuracy was needed. Or perhaps Australians don’t wear shoes due to nesting scorpions.. either way his energy was emphatic.
Parker aimed his guitar like a high-powered rifle at drummer Jay “Gumby” Watson, and coyly said
“Get ready for this one, chaps and chapettes”
Tame Impala – Elephant
The crowd erupted in dance as the thunderous opening rift nearly tore the ground asunder. It was pure indescribable bliss, and I remember very little as a lost total control of my brain and limbs. It was a blur or brilliance.
Tame Impala – Half Full Glass Of Wine
The final song of the set was a Tame Impala standard from their first EP. Although i’ve included the studio version of the song, it should be noted that hearing this song live is a totally different experience. It ran somewhere close to fourteen minutes and was a space rock opera of enormous proportions. Much of it was improvised, and the incredible talent of the band was on full display as they playfully walloped on their instruments. Parker bobbed back and forth as he tickled his Stratocaster sending seismic sounds in to the stars.
It was a performance I will never forget.
By the time it was all over, I missed both The XX and Sigur Ros; shows many would say were “the best of the festival”. But it didn’t matter to me, because I’d managed to stand in the front row for one of the strongest performances I’d ever seen, and witnessed the rise of the best psychedelic rock band in decades.
Sasquatch 2013 Coverage! Surfer Blood:
Sasquatch 2013 was chock full of brilliant acts, but only two names drew me in to the festival. Youth Lagoon, who blew me away the night previous, and Tame Impala. I made a very difficult sacrifice, opting to skip out on The XX in their entirety in order to secure a front row spot. As I made my way to the stage after The Divine Fits had finished, this was the scene.
The whole stage was a ghost town, and all that remained were piles of discarded styrofoam and flattened beer cans. It shouldn’t be this easy. Something seemed wrong. I approached a man standing abandoned and alone in the front row.
“They’ve changed stages over to Yeti, they just made the announcement. Something was wrong with their instruments” “Ah shit.. but why are you here?” “My girlfriend ran away to the bathroom, she was so excited we were going to be this close for Tame Impala.. not stoked to give her the news”
I bid farewell and made my way to the already packed Yeti stage. Surfer Blood was playing, a band I was completely unfamiliar with, yet as was the case throughout the weekend their warm stage presence and California-sound won me over. Plus they were one of the only bands crazy enough to crowd surf.
Sasquatch 2013: Coverage Continues
The most highly anticipated guest of the festival had finally arrived early Saturday morning, and the campground was abuzz with life once more. Soggy shoes and crusted jeans lay baking on hoods and roofs, and a cool breeze became a welcome guest instead of a cruel menace. Yes, the sun had arrived. And it planned on making a prolonged appearance at Sasquatch for the first time and was met with much exuberance (as well as an elevated pace of liquor consumption).
First on the docket was the Preservation Hall Jazz Band. Nobody knew who they were, but there was genuine excitement within our adopted group. Relaxing in the sunshine on a hillside while listening to jazz seemed way beyond the visible class spectrum of thirty-thousand-odd hoodlums, but some of us were savvy enough to procure a box of wine in preparation for such an event. Of course, any consumption had to take place outside of festival grounds. Beer WAS made available.. for those willing to trade their wallets.
It seemed foolish to try and charge incredibly inflated prices for alcohol to a bunch of poor students, especially given that the security at the gates was lax and inconsistent. A bag search was mandatory prior to entering, well, sort of. Depending on the disposition of your designated bag checker, oftentimes a bag ‘peek’ was sufficient. In any case our friend Cody, the other half of the dynamic duo we drove down with, developed a simple system for contraband concealment.
“I’ll just crotch the dope” he shrugged
Crotch it: To shove necessary illicit substances down one’s pants. Need something in the festival grounds? Crotch it. Got a bunch of drugs? Crotch it. Brought your flask? Well my friend, put that cold metal right on those sweaty genitals. The concept was fool proof and far more reliable than gambling at the gates. On several occasions throughout the weekend we ran in to trouble accidentally. We were once informed that our umbrella was a few inches too large for their standards. And on another occasion we sparked a conversation with a girl who revealed to us five water bottles and a large Gatorade. We laughed and joked as I held up an identical Gatorade, acknowledging our common need for the ultra-hydrating electrolyte heaven juice. I stood behind her as she was let inside the grounds, but mid-stride I was met with a extended hand.
“You can’t bring that in here” the girl beckoned to my Gatorade. “CHUG IT OR CHUCK IT BRO” a meatheaded ‘security’ guard boomed as he thundered his way towards me. “Are you fucking kidding me? The girl in front of me LITERALLY took an identical bottle inside and you just let her in!” The beefcake paused. A conundrum, he thought. There’s only one solution.. “.. I didn’t see anything” he resigned, hands held non-confrontationally as he backed away.
Parking yourself on a blanket in front of the main stage at Sasquatch was perhaps one of the most enjoyable activities of the weekend. The massive hill had seating for thousands and the view seemed ripped right out of a beautiful scenery montage you might find on any given desktop. The perimeter was dotted with vendors, who with minor coaxing could be convinced to trade you deep fried delicacies for a small fortune. The nine dollar cheeseburger was an early go-to, and generously came with a shrunken tomato and leaf lettuce. I crumpled up the tinfoil and attempted a three-point shot in front of a small crowd, only to ring it off the rim.
“Don’t quit your day job” quipped a button-down thirty-something in a checkered shirt and a pair of slacks. Who the hell was this guy? An ID card shimmered from a lanyard draped around his neck as he turned and shuffled two other suit-jockeys towards a condiment station. “You see, we use only high quality product, and our produce is delivered daily fresh from-..”
He disappeared out of earshot, however it became apparent that the two drones he was escorting were from some sort of food inspection agency. I bit my tongue and held the desire to tell them my burger tasted like burnt assholes. After that day, every nine dollar burger came without any tomatoes or lettuce. Apparently the ‘daily deliveries’ had an expiry date. Just in time for Mr. Smooth Operator to make a final handshake to the two balding bureaucrats he was trying so desperately to schmooze.
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It was a sad reality that during the second day of music it was impossible to see every artist. And not for the obvious reason that many bands were playing at the same time, rather it was quite impossible to stay in the grounds for an extended period of time without running out of food and resources. I ended up missing Indians as well as The Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, but we managed to refuel in time to catch Caveman.
The yeti stage was certainly one of the smaller venues but it easily became my favorite. Youth Lagoon had played the night prior, and Cavemen had a similar vibe albeit more traditional. Synthesizers, a half-band and powerful vocals. Throw in the odd pair of giant roto djembe drums and you’ve got yourself a wicked sound. I’d already had a few songs of theirs in my rotation, however their performance had such a great sound that I made a note toss them some coin when I made it back home.
Sasquatch 2013! Youth Lagoon
Anticipation was the word at the Yeti stage. Artists were given a strict set time, and only headliners were permitted to go beyond the allotted hour or so. After finally appearing just over five minutes late, the crowd erupted as Trevor Powers took the stage.
What followed was one of the strangest twenty five minutes of the entire festival. There was very little prep time for the bands, and unlike most concerts the soundcheck would take place on stage for the first few moments of each performance. Powers was very meticulous. Obsessively meticulous. The crowd, half drunk, patiently waited as Powers tested every dial and knob on the board. He’d point up to the sound director indicating an increase in volume, or down. This wouldn’t be a problem for most bands, except Trevor Powers uses more wacky sound effects than Beck himself.
Up, up, up, down. This went on for twenty minutes while the crowd became incredibly restless. The nervous patience soon turned to frustration. A girl who had just finished explaining her love for Youth Lagoon, referring to Trevor as if he was an old friend, looked back at us and said “I can’t do this..” And with a uncomfortable smirk squeezed out of the crowd and out of the show. Youth Lagoon was one of a select few shows I was most excited to see, and while I managed to maintain optimism far longer than my compatriots, even my spirits began to wane. Was he even going to do a show? The liquor began to fade and a dull headache took over. Boos began to rain down on Trevor and his bandmates, yet he was unshaken. At no point did he acknowledge the crowd, nor our displeasure, and with his Technicolor sweater and acid-wash jeans he was truly in a world of his own. He was weird. We could all see it. And just as we all lost hope..
Youth Lagoon – Mute
The start of Mute blew us away. The Yeti stage was one of the loudest and most powerful despite its size. Almost instantaneously the mood of the crowd changed, and Powers began his hypnosis. It became very apparent why the soundcheck was so meticulous, as every note and every noise was perfectly timed. A euphoria began to sweep over the crowd as the basslines rattled the Gorge.
Youth Lagoon – Pelican Man
One of my favorite songs of Youth Lagoon’s latest album “Wondrous Bughouse” was Pelican Man. As he bounced between crowd favorites like “Cannons” and “July”, I found myself belting out the chorus line to Pelican Man.. only to discover I seemed to be the only person who actually knew the song. The faces around me stood in awe, mouth agape, and although they were singing along moments earlier the drugs had certainly took hold of them in that moment. I felt twinge of pride knowing a song that no one else did, but the pendulum would soon swing the other direction.
Youth Lagoon – 17
17. Another track from Youth Lagoon’s first album “The Year of Hibernation”. I’d heard it only a handful of times, and the song never found its way in to my rotation. Yet the crowd around me had awoken from the bipartile hypnosis of Trevor’s music and their drug-induced state, and they loudly began to sing the chorus. Everyone knew the words, and I did not. It was a very strange moment as I became acutely aware of my own hipsterdom. I had no friends back home that knew Youth Lagoon existed, and there certainly wasn’t any radio play. There was no outside influence on the songs I liked most, I simply liked them. I loved Pelican Man, but the song everyone knew was 17.
In retrospect, this seemed obvious; Pelican man had only 9,000 views via Youtube, where as 17 had 400,000 plus. Clearly, it was the more popular sound, but I had no idea prior to the show.
Youth Lagoon remains the best concert i’ve ever seen. Nothing can quite capture the pure nostalgic euphoria of his brief set-list, and it remained a high I never quite came down from for the rest of the festival.
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Today, Beach Fuzz turned two years old! It's been a pretty wild ride so far, and we're looking towards the future for bigger and brighter days ahead. After two years, I feel that we're no where even close to fulfilling our potential, so i'd like to start this post off by thanking all of my followers for listening!
Now, back to my coverage of Sasquatch 2013!
Few at the festival ever approached the charismatic magnetism of Joshua Tillman and his band "Father John Misty". His performance could be likened to a full-bodied orgasm as he writhed and cooed onstage, puffing out his chest and channeling the sensual energy of a young(ish) Mick Jagger. In between songs, Tillman was quick-witted and whimsical, joking with the crowd and even quipping "What the fuck was that.." after the sound had briefly cut out at Sasquatch's most blatantly sponsored stage. (Ironically, throughout the weekend, the Honda stage had a plethora of sound issues despite funding). Tillman oozed sexual energy and held the crowd on a string for his entire set, and will hopefully be returning for a sophomore effort under his new pseudonym Father John Misty.
