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Download Festival

I hadn’t even heard of the Download Festival until this week, but shortly after seeing a commercial I found out how to get complimentary tickets. Three and a half bucks in Ticketmaster charges to see a bill of former indie bands I won’t pay full price to see anymore? Sure, I’ll suffer through an all-day outdoor/indoor festival.

Since the festival’s web site didn’t list set times for the bands, we got there early. Oops. Door prizes? Well, we got free corporate schwag from the festival’s numerous sponsors, but we also had to see an unlisted local opener (the Adam Ezra Band) who played jam band lite, a “real” jam band (Apollo Sunshine), and a hair metal revival act (Bang Camaro). I can just imagine the festival executives shaking their heads over the prospect of an outdoor festival without a reasonable draw for local stoners before having an epiphany. “Shit, we could book those bands early on! We don’t even need big names! We can still meet our drum circle quota!” Phew. As for the hair metal revival, I’d be fine with its existence only if the Jersey shoreline split off and became a sovereign nation under the despotic control of the Jon Bon Jovi / Bret Michaels administration.

Just before Band of Horses started playing, I heard a familiar racket coming from the Volkswagen “garage rock” display, in which they had set up amps, guitars, and drums for the kids to play. Prior to this point, it had been the kind of aimless jamming that I’d expect from this scenario, but this time it was some local band playing their youthful attempt at Les Savy Fav worship. It’s hard to dismiss the value of context for this situation—if I’d heard this band at the Middle East, it would be par for the course, but after seeing Bang Camaro’s wretched party metal, it threw me for a loop. Thanks kids.

Band of Horses played a solid mix of songs from their forthcoming album Cease to Begin and last year’s Everything All the Time. While none of the new songs hit quite as well as “The Funeral,” the new tracks seemed more fleshed-out instrumentally than their older counterparts, incorporating piano and pedal steel effectively. Wolf Parade followed with an even greater prevalence of new material, returning to only “I’ll Believe in Anything” and “Shine a Light” from Apologies to the Queen Mary. I tend to only listen to three or four Wolf Parade songs before getting bored or sick of ’em, so having two of their five new songs qualify as great is essentially on par from the last record. Their set seemed short (play “Fancy Claps,” goddammit), but the stage banter was humorous enough to excuse their early exit.

The rest of the show was in the concert shell, so we took our seats and waited for Neko Case to start. I’ve tried getting into the New Pornographers and simply found them too peppy for my liking, but Neko’s voice carried well and Kelly Hogan (a guest vocalist on a Silkworm record or two) did some excellent back-up vocals. I enjoyed her songs enough, but can’t remember a single one of them.

I saw the Yeah Yeah Yeahs play in City Hall Plaza last summer, so this setting was hardly alien for a band I first saw open up for three other bands at the Empty Bottle in Chicago. Karen O came out in something that looked like a metallic owl costume, then stripped down to her leopard print leotard and pranced around the stage. Yep. Just another day for her. Their set list again ignored “Y-Control” from Fever to Tell and seemed to go a little long, especially with a false start of “Maps” in its standard electric version before switching over to an acoustic take, but on the whole it brought some energy back after Neko Case’s set. They need some songs to bridge the gap between “Maps” and the rest of their set, but that’s what third albums are for, right?

I knew that I’d heard Guster, since they were once the subject of a “guess this song” question at team trivia (we were not successful), but I couldn’t remember what they sounded like. The people in front of us had no idea either, so we exchanged guesses like “light rock for dudes who like Dave Matthews Band” and “Wilco lite” (followed by “Isn’t that Wilco lite lite now?”) before their set started. As it turned out, we were fairly accurate, as Guster’s overwhelmingly bland adult-oriented rock blared out into the amphitheater. The polarization of the crowd was humorous enough—while the vaguely indie people around us left to smoke, nearly everyone else stood up and hugged their girlfriend, bro, or both. Whether that’s a conditioned response to bongos is unclear, but I zoned out until the headliners.

I’d only seen Modest Mouse once before, back in 2000 with a then-unknown Shins started off the bill, but they might as well have been separate bands except for Isaac Brock’s drunken ramblings. I don’t think the band played anything prior to Good News for People Who Like Bad News, with the majority of their set coming from their newest record. I was intrigued to see how Johnny Marr and Brock would mesh as guitarists, but their respective styles didn’t truly spar until the set’s elongated closer, “Spitting Venom.” Marr’s smooth leads worked well against Brock’s raw tones as they stretched the end of the overwhelming highlight of We Were Dead… longer and longer. They waited a few minutes before heading out for the obligatory encore, after which point I bolted to the parking lot to avoid becoming a permanent residence.

I can’t complain too much about spending less than four bucks to see the five worthwhile bands on the bill, but I imagine that I’ll avoid outdoor shows that aren’t sponsored by sunscreen companies for the rest of the summer.

The Thankful Non-Coincidence of My Isis LP and Boston Mail Theft

I received my copy of Isis's In the Absence of Truth 2LP from Robotic Empire yesterday. I managed to get one of only 299 copies of the violet vinyl, which is both attractive and sought-after on eBay, selling for forty to eighty dollars. Does anyone think I should hold onto this particular copy rather than put it on eBay and buy the (likely) black vinyl copy from Newbury Comics?

I felt lucky to receive that package, since mailing packages to my apartment is a game of chance against thieves. I've had a few packages stolen, so I typically try to mail things to my parents' house, but I had forgotten to do this with the Isis LP. The best story that I have about stolen mail is from this Christmas. I was anticipating a package from Amazon from my sister-in-law, so when I got back to the apartment and saw an Amazon box in the garbage can, I pulled it out. To my surprise, someone had unwrapped the Sealab 2021 DVD, put it back in box, ignored the other present, and threw the box away. It's one thing to open up a package, steal its contents, and sell them, but whatever thought process must've occured, perhaps "I already own this season" or "I really wanted Love Actually," is just baffling. The story gets better, though. Later that day I went downstairs and saw that someone had stolen the garbage can from our entranceway, throwing its contents onto the floor. Who does this sort of thing?

I had even put up a sign saying not to leave packages for me the day that the Isis LP arrived, but it was still sitting there when I got back from class.