Terrastock: A Pilgrim's Progress by Bruce Holloway
These articles are from DroneOn ML and courtesy of Mr. Bruce Holloway.
Before reality comes crashing back down (i.e. I go back to work tomorrow) I'd better get my memories fixed by writing them down. You're welcome to look in on them (or disregard) as you like...
Phew! Flydaddy's directions to the Rogue Lounge looked complicated in writing, but they worked: the "red and white striped towers" came into view and we breathed a sigh of relief. Marion, my wife, and I have the usual anxiety over whether we'll look as if we fit in (we look pretty normal), but it's apparent that this is a cool "come as you are" crowd. Droners come in all shades and types and ages. Marion remarks that many of the scene-sters have adopted a retro 60's -'70's look, but this time they (we) aren't dressing like the "cool" hippies: we're wearing the clothes that our parents made us wear that have now ended up in thrift shops.
In any event, I begin discreetly looking for folks with stickers that have an "appropriately mysterious and obtuse symbol upon them." Nothing. My companions want to know whether I'll still hang with them once I've got my cool sticker. I tell them I'll think about it.
Terrastock is in a big old mill building. My brother-in-law, John, is quite impressed by the duct work. In the entrance hallway, there are big canvases with Simeon's (of Silver Apples) art work. Inside there are tables tastefully (read "not in-your-face commercially) displaying CDs, T shirts, etc., sometimes tended to by the artists themselves (Wendy & Carl were spotted at the tables often). Collectorskum must be in heaven. Being from rural New Hampshire, I'm just happy to be able to pick up anything by any of these bands.
But on to the music (which is what you all really want to hear about)....
Silver Apples get things started pretty much on time. This time around it's just Simeon (and his oscillators) and two new players. My first impression is that this is a much bigger, fuller sound than the records... more straight-forward. The trade off seems to be that some of the carnival atmosphere is missing, but there's a deep throbbing resonance beneath that is quite nice. The last song is a new one, and I like it. Again, more "rock," but with those wonderful oscillators. John, a computer programmer/engineer who has still been eyeing the duct work appreciately, now gives the same attention to Simeon's vacuum tubes, wires, cranks, voltage regulators, etc.
DroneOn's own Abunai! come next. I've sang their praises before, and I still dig 'em. This performance had a few snags (a missed guitar cue, a couple of "off" vocals), but I love the big "psychedelic sounds" (guitar and keyboard heavy) around folk structures. After the performance I want to introduce myself to Dan and Brendan (having made their virtual acquaintance) but in reality I'm rather painfully shy. I decide to wait, but notice neither is sporting an mysterious stickers. Neither was Phil when he addressed the crowd. I guess some things are even bigger than this list. I do pick up the Abunai! tape for a reasonable $3. Excellent version of "Gyspy Davey."
Windy & Carl. How does one describe heaven? Watching Carl strum his guitar I wonder where all of the beautiful sound is coming from... it seems there must be a ghost guitar or two in those delay pedals. Notes shimmer and dance in the air around our heads. I wish I were seated, but I stand entranced. Sound waves form diffraction patterns: sometimes reinforcing, other times cancelling. I could swear I hear cymbols. It might be in the effects. No, there's a toddler backstage banging on a drum kit! The child stops, but I still hear the wash of cymbols. It is a ghost.
After each set, we go outside to clear our heads. The musicians wear orange passes. We civilians wear green. Often over the course of the weekend I'll wonder if the green passes aren't out-numbered by the oranges. As I'm new to this "scene" thing I'm both intimidated and charmed by all of these artists that I admire who are casually standing all around me. Still haven't got the nerve to say "hi" to any of them, but that's my problem. Still no stickers.
Thee Hydrogen Terrors: pow!!! Like a spoonful of Chinese mustard, these guys clear the air of any stray wisps of drone. Not very "this listy," but a welcome palate cleanser. They are like listening to songs from 70's AM pop radio played by "Land Speed Record" era Husker Du. There's a funkiness underneath, the vocalist is a hyperactive dynamo, like Rage Against the Machine, but faster and more melodic. Shades of the Standells or early Stones as interpreted through speedcore. Very cool. A few of us even pogo in place (more polite than moshing).
The Deviants. What a discovery for me! They started back in '68, but I found them tonight. This answers the question "What would the Stooges have sounded like if Jim Morrison was the frontman?" This is the blistering acid rock that my mom warned me about, that the Hells Angels dug while they got high on drugs. My "CDs I must purchase" list is becoming impossibly long. And it's only Friday night.
Cul De Sac. I've seen 'em before, I loved them then, and I still do. They seem to bend the very fabric of spacetime, mining it for any music that may have been leaked into outerspace from Earth and got stuck in the cracks, and recovering it. Think of snippets of diverse music from many cultures all embedded in the middle of Interstellar Overdrive. Later, I elbow my way in between collectorskum searching for 10" singles on Danish indie labels to get Cul De Sac's "China Gate."
At 2 AM, it's back to Motel 6 to listen to the wedding party next door as colors swirl inside my head. Still no stickers.
To be continued....
Awake at 10:30, turn up Disney channel cartoons (take that, hungover wedding party next door!) then on to breakfast at Bickford's next to the motel. Observation: large chain restaurants that specialize in breakfast never pay enough attention to keeping your coffee cup full. A good breakfast place has coffee in your hands before you attempt to do such high-order cognitive tasks such as open a menu, etc. My above thoughts are interrupted as the group at the table next to me gets up and heads towards the door: it's Dan and others from Abunai! Another missed opportunity.
We missed Barbara Manning and Science Kit, but got to the Rogue in time to see Jason & Co. in Azuza Plane whose praises have been sung so often recently on this list. And for good reason: in the same school as FSA, Labradford, Wendy & Carl. Beautiful guitar tones wash over us as we watch wonderful home movies projected behind them (someone's grandparents travelling through Europe and Gettysburg, PA in the days before rock n roll). After the set we go straight over to pick up the "Tycho Magnetic Anomaly" CD.
Lothars is next. Lots of thermin (3 of them) over simple guitar strumming. Sometimes abrasive, sometimes droney, sometimes otherwordly. I'm still not sure how I feel about this band: there's elements of brilliance, but it's a bit overwhelming. There's a lot going on here, but it's not always focused. Nonetheless, they're always interesting, and I listened alternately amused, entranced, and confused.
Primordial Undermind: when I reviewed the Deep Heaven (Boston) gig I inadvertently forgot to incluse this band, and I can't figure out why. This is good stuff. I got the feeling that this band has two sides of a personality struggling at the core (perhaps it's a Jungian thing): there's a power pop influence that spars with a Sonic Youth/ VU "Sister Ray" freak-out influence. They were joined by a member of Saturnalia (sorry, I forgot his name) who played violin during one song that took off to good places.
I've given up hope of ever finding someone with a mysterious DroneOn sticker. I suppose I'll have to introduce myself to Phil and ask him if he has a sticker or knows where to find them. I reflect on how pathetic it is that I'm carrying on so about a silly thing like this, but after a few years (of mostly lurking) on this list, my curiosity fights with my social reluctance. I'm intimidated about talking to an "orange pass," me being a "green pass" and all. Is it any wonder that I spend hours listening to introverted "mind" music when others are out playing football with the other guys, going to auto races, cooking up steaks on the barbeque, etc.? I need to get a life.
So, taking my own advice we decide to miss Orans and visit the real world in Providence, to find a nice Italian restaurant, drink some alcohol, and talk about world issues. The streets are clogged (literally) with conventioneers in business attire, so after 30 minutes we're back at the Rogue lounge having bought a 6 pack of Bud at a local liquor store which we consume in the parking lot. So much for reality.
So, back at the Rogue, on my way back from the "standing in line for the bathroom" ritual I see a name tag "Duane Healing" that rings a bell. I've seen that name on the list. I make my move and finally introduce myself to someone. We exchange the secret handshake, and Duane gives me a small slip of paper just like they do in spy movies. I consider going back to the bathroom stall to open and read it, but decide to take a peek. "Meet @ 10:15. Near bathrooms for group photo." Then I strike sticker paydirt in that not onlyhave I found DroneOn's own Duane, but also Mr. List himself, Matt Maxwell. A few moments later I'm proudly displaying a mysterious sticker that looks vaguely like something from Star Trek. And I've met some of these virtual personalities in the flesh, and they nice folks that you could even introduce to your mom.
Neutral Milk Hotel. Another great discovery for me: in an Alternate Universe, this band would be as big as, well, Pearl Jam. (Note: I still haven't spotted Eddie Vedder, yet, though I think I saw Elvis backstage.) This band is driven by a singer/songwriter who has something to say. Lyrics take focus along with the music. This is melody driven , but with nice flourishes of horn and a musical saw (who needs a theremin - the saw sounds just like one) that add just the right amount of eccentricity to keep it interesting.
Supreme Dicks. I'm not sure, but it didn't seem like they were either of those things ( I bet the name is just to piss off your parents). They were a nice, but melancholy band with a sound that had me thinking of early Meat Puppets, but with some wall of noise stuff on top of the depression. Someone needs to give these guys a hug.
Mary Lou Lord was next, and fantastic (I'm running out of adjectives for "great." Need to get out the Thesaurus soon.) Well-crafted singer/songwriter fare. She mentioned that she used to sing in Subway stations, and this is music that is perfect for that (and worth missing a train for): simple, elegant, honest, the real stuff. She was joined during the second half of the set by Nick Saloman and others who rocked out behind her. Great fun.
Tadpoles. Another "I can't believe I've never heard them before" band. According to the well-presented, informative program (congratulations to whomever designed it) their influences include "Spacemen 3, Love, The Flaming Lips, the Butthole Surfers, old Pink Floyd, the Jesus and Mary Chain, Spiritualized, Spectrum, and E.A.R." In other words, the usual suspects. They combine Sp3 deadpan vocals, hypnotic Sp3 - ur, I mean Stooges - riffing and wah wah wah guitar all drenched with Mary Chain pulsing reverb/feedback.
Next up is the eagerly anticipated Flying Saucer Attack set, but first I have a rendevous near the bathrooms for the DroneOn photo opp. I'm not sure if Matt will get the final photo on the web site (I hope so), but there were about 15 of us. I'm the tall guy with the goatee and trench coat in the back right who may have been outside of the frame (I'm always on the fringe). I finally meet the guys in Abunai!, and even shake hands with the celebrated Phil McMullen (one gets the impression that he is a very nice man). As Dan remarked to me, "this is kind of weird" I agree with him, but also enjoy the opportunity to see the faces lurking behind the screens.
FSA is everything I expected it to be even though Rachel is no longer in the group. Joining Dave Pearce is Bill K. of VHF records/Doldrums and Jim O'Rourke. During the first song it seems that Bill and Jim are fumbling a bit, but that soon melts away and we are treated to the trademark FSA sound that we know and love. Jim tells us a rather long (but amusing) joke during a guitar change of some sort, receiving encouragement from the audience. But when it is all over, at the end of a wonderful "Sally Free and Easy", I wish we'd heard more music. Perhaps two or three hours more.
I'm beginning to reach psychedelic overload by now, and things are getting fuzzy. As I write this, I can't recall details about Medicine Ball, just snippets: I liked them, it was accessible, melodic, pop psych. I remember the lead singer from Thee Hydrogen Terrors at stage left dancing like a lunatic.
Finally, the Bevis Frond took the spotlight. I've heard about Nick & Co. forever on this list, have even had the "Sprawl" CD in my hand at record stores a few times, always to get it bumped by some other purchase, but never got around to listening. Until now. Nick has obviously been playing guitar for many years (my companions were surprised to learn he's been around so long) at it shows: he's an astounding, accomplished musician. Think of Neil Young fronting the Jimi Hendrix Experience rythym section, and you'll get the idea. An excellent ending for another day at Terrastock; luckily no one had to try and top it.
Back to the motel at 3:00, listen to more drunken wedding party next door, followed by technicolor dreams.
to be continued (if anyone is still with me, that is)....
Up at 11:00 AM, then hurriedly check out of the motel (no time to rouse the wedding party next door) in order to get to Terrastock in time to see Damon and Naomi. We make it there in the middle of their set, immediately wishing we had been more prompt in our arrival. Trescendent elegance. This made Bedhead (as much as I love them) sound like mere imitators: this is the real stuff. Beautiful, honest melodies. Damon and Naomi have the most gorgeous voices, voices that would make Art Garfunkle weep. Just as I was thinking it couldn't get any more lovely, they invited another artist (Tom ? Help, please) to sing Dylan's "I Shall Be Released," a song that made me sigh when it was all over.
Alva were up next. My first impression on watching them set up: these women went to music school together, but instead of playing stuffy "proper" music have decided to join the avante-guard. Am I right? In any event, this is wildly fun stuff: their music is the perfect soundtrack for those demented ancient cartoons that the King of Cartoons would show on Pee Wee's Playhouse. But, no... they are little girl witches who are playing while the Mistress Witch is away, casting playful spells that sometimes hurt, but always amuse. Aaahhhhhhhhh! Hee hee hee.
Then outside for a bit of a smoke. Speaking of such things, the use of intoxicants is very low key. This is not a Woodstock-type, man-with-briefcase saying "Buy your LSD here" event. Very discreet. People were drinking booze in paper bags both days prior, but it became more subdued after "No Booze" signs began to appear around the building. No sign of "the man," though the Fire Dept. maintain a high profile presence (the building is a firetrap) and occassionally ask folks to put out their cigarettes which they politely do (until they go away that is). Mom and Dad would have been proud of our good manners.
Olivia Tremor Control was next, and a splendid time is had by all. It took forever to get all their equipment set up (or was it just the time dilation factor?), but it was worth it. Think of what it would sound like if the Beatles of '68 (circa Magical Mystery Tour) played the songs they wrote in '64, only this time pre-crack up Syd Barrett is the "5th Beatle." Or maybe it's the Beatles playing songs written by the Rutles and the Dukes of Stratosphear. It doesn't matter: check this band out if you missed the original Summer of Love.
To purge the system of colours (and re-set my brain for the final evening) we went into Providence and spent several hours walking about, then finally ate in an Italian Restaurant, sans conventioneers. We missed Major Stars, The Alchemysts, and Papa Fritas. Someone else will need to prepare a report.
We returned to find things in recess, but took advantage of the situation by getting some chairs in front of the stage to watch Bardo Pond. This brings up the topic of the perennial General Admission venue dilemma: do I sit in the chair and be comfortable at the expense of being glued to one location for hours so that I don't lose my spot, or do I remain mobile at the expense of comfort and/or view of the stage. Tonight, our bodies becoming increasingly fatigued, we opted for the former. I was again in a bit of a time dilation state of mind, and Bardo Pond took forever to hit the stage. After an hour, Phil took the stage to apologize and tell us that BP would be another half hour late due to the beer running out. Apparently someone was making a run and was due back by 7:30. I suppose there's a bit of "Rock Star" stuff in any situation like this. Oh, well. The wait was worth it. They served up a good set of very hypnotic sludge, exactly what one would expect from their recordings.
There's a rock n roll folk tale you might have heard that concerns Pete Towshend at Woodstock: supposedly he literally kicked Abbie Hoffman off the stage in a scene that served as a metaphor for angry power rocker kicking some hippie shit. Well, if that did indeed happen, tonight's metaphor for kicking the shit out of the hippies was supplied by Hilkka. They play a mean set firmly rooted in precision metal. The jackhammer chord and time changes of Metallica, the progressive tendencies of the Melvins, delivered with the speed and agression of Helmet. In short, they kick butt. I'm amused to realize mid-set that most of the room had cleared out. I like 'em!
In between sets, we wander down to the snack bar/chill out room to hear some strangely familiar, beautiful music. It's the jam that we always thought inevitable: FSA's Dave Pearse with Azuza's Jason, Windy's Carl, and Bardo Pond members are recognized. For a timeless moment we are transported somewhere far away from the sign declaring the price of hot dogs and spinach pie. All too soon it's over.
It's now 9:00, and there are definitely fewer people around. Seats are easy to find. Perhaps people have started to go home to face Monday. Or perhaps it is due to the Hilkka / Lhasa Cement Plant double bill. Lhasa Cement Plant's first performance (so we are told) brings the same noisy skronk (to my ears) that Skullflower delivers. I've purchased one Skullflower CD (Carved Into roses) after hearing their praise here, listened to it for 10 minutes, and promptly filed it away, never to hear it again. My first reaction to LCP was similar. However, I couldn't just file this one away, so I listened. Have you ever seen those 3D posters? The kind that work best when you let your eyes go out of focus, zone out, then a 3D picture pops out at you? That's what LCP was like for me. Once I stopped trying to engage the music in my mind, I began to appreciate little patterns, moods, etc. If I listened too closely, they slipped away into noise again. Maybe I'd better give Skullflower another listen... when my wife's not around.
V. Majestic was somewhere between Mr. Bungle and Burt Bachrach. Silly cartoonish delivery, abrupt style changes, but I get the feeling that they are lounge lizards at heart. There's that scene in the "Hair" movie of the performance in Central Park: that vaudvillian guy in tux singing "Old Fashioned Melody" that gives way to "Electric Blues." I've always been both anoyed and attracted to that. This was similar, but without the anoyance. I loved the "Circus Town" movies projected over them.
Finally (for us) is Hovercraft. Just as you'd expect from their CD, except this was one 45 minute piece. That wonderful bass sound that's right out of Floyd's "One Of These Days..." The out-of-this-world guitar impressionism. Behind them was projected this wonderfully psychedelic movie collage. Are they providing the soundtrack for the movie? Is the movie inspiring the music? It doesn't matter: this is as complete a music trip as possible. I expect that at any moment the band will actually rocket off into space... I can feel the thrusters rumbling, gaining power before lift-off.
And then it was time to begin the late journey home, with mixed feelings: feeling both saturated and not wanting it to be over. But I didn't really have any room for more colors in my head. Others will need to report on Richard Davies and the finaltba?; performance. Please tell me I didn't miss the reunited Spacemen, or the Stooges, or an all-star encore featuring all of the above artists plus Ron Wood and Ringo.
And now I've spent a fourth day reliving the experience in the retelling. Azuza Plane is playing on the stereo downstairs, and I'd better go make sure that my wife hasn't turned into the Star Child.
-Bruce
Bruce Holloway bholloway@top.monad.net
Mill Street, P.O. Box 294, Marlow, New Hampshire 03456