The Musicfest '06 Diaries

[September 13th, 2006]

Thursday, Sept. 7

10:05 pm: The Black Keys, Roseland Theater

The woman next to me spouts a garbled snippet about the duo's style ("...Ginger Baker...Cream...did acid...Led Zeppelin's "Traveling Riverside Blues"...) directly into my ear canal, but her words are washed away by another wave of the Black Keys' squealing, throbbing blues-rock majesty. The crowd collectively rocks back onto its heels every few seconds, bracing itself against the duo's titanic sonic gusts. That is, everybody but a young man in a white T-shirt leaning on the stage itself, directly in front of a tall tower of speakers. Eyes closed and slightly smiling, he presses his ear up against the thumping wall. KC.

10:52 pm: Brian Jonestown Massacre, Crystal Ballroom

A few songs after BJM leadman Anton Newcombe introduces former bandmate Matt Hollywood to the stage (see Q&A, page 41), the current Out Crowd guitarist takes a mighty long swig from a giant handle of whiskey. Newcombe then brushes his long, greasy mane to the side and says, "I love Portland. Right now I'm living in Manhattan, but soon I'm going to live in Berlin" with the conviction of an eyeliner-clad high-school poet. Then the band plays "Super-sonic" and, like the rest of the set, it is great in its directionless lucidity, much like the guys playing it. MB.

12:50 am: The Dandy Warhols, Crystal Ballroom

As Courtney Taylor-Taylor leads his band through the slinky and resigned pop ballad "The Last High," it occurs to me that the song gains from the fact that the band plays it like it doesn't care. For a moment, apathy is sexy. Then Zia McCabe steps to the mike and says, "Thanks everyone for coming. We're so happy to be part of the Portland scene." I liked them better when they didn't care. MB.

Friday, Sept. 8

9:32 pm: Laura Gibson, Towne Lounge

After the wonderfully bashful chanteuse finishes the walking folk number "Hands in Pockets," she apologizes to the crowd that has been eerily silent and actually tiptoeing to the restroom and bar for the past half-hour. "I have nothing to sell you," says Gibson, whose debut album will be released in November. The crowd of 40 chuckles. "I wish I had baked cookies or something." They chuckle harder. MB.

11:23 pm: Stephen Malkmus, Crystal Ballroom

The ex-Pavement frontman has just wished a fan on the much less chatty all-ages side of the room a happy 19th birthday when someone yells out that his new, mustachioed look is "hot!" Malkmus responds with an awkward but hilarious quip about how he can't help but masturbate when he looks in the mirror. He follows the comment—which was said directly into the mike—with the words, "I hope nobody heard that." AM.

12:31 am: The Zombies, Berbati's Pan

I was skeptical as to whether British invaders the Zombies would live up to their songs after all these years. They don't: It's like watching my dad and his friends play in a talented but unengaging Zombies cover band, and those I meet on the way out halfway through feel similarly. JS.

12:41 am: Eric Bachmann, Doug Fir

After booking ass on foot from the Crystal to the Doug Fir, I am pleased to find that my foolish hanging around post-Malkmus (in hopes of catching a few Silver Jews songs) didn't thwart my plan to catch Crooked Fingers' Eric Bachmann. Descending into the churchlike quiet of the Fir, I am rewarded with Bachmann's beautiful delivery of "Little Bird" from his recent solo album. A stoic duo of ladies accompanies him on percussion, vocals and violin, and his momentous closer, Crooked Fingers' "New Drink for the Old Drunk," elicits as much hushed rockin' as is possible from fans of sad-bastard folk music. AM.

1:15 am: Centro-matic, Doug Fir

I am completely conflicted as to whether I should bite the edge of my glass and super-fast-clap along with the rest of the crowd to Centro-matic's "Calling Thermatico" or keep my drink in hand and join in the "ooh, oohs." So much simultaneous crowd participation is overwhelming! Overwhelmingly awesome, that is. AM.

Saturday, Sept. 9

10:52 pm: The Melvins, Roseland

A security guard is handing out complimentary ear plugs, insisting, "You'll need 'em!" Later he's proven correct as the Melvins, with big hair and even bigger sound, shake up the Roseland in a way the venue was not equipped for, the sound system distorting their sludgy guitars and spine-shaking drums to the point where it's almost deafening. DC.

12:07 am: Helio Sequence, Crystal Ballroom

Helio Sequence finishes a bombastic rendition of "Harmonica Song" to start off what will be the greatest performance by the duo I have ever witnessed. A woman to my left turns to her boyfriend and exclaims after mimicking Benjamin Weikel's arms-in-casts drumming style, "Holy shit!" A man to my right turns to a friend and states simply, "Oh, my heavens." MB.

12:18 am: Dead Moon, Dante's

Any doubt in old rockers generated by Friday's Zombies performance is laid to rest as Dead Moon's set of nonstop, hair-in-the-face rock infects the Dante's crowd. DM has aged differently than the Zombies: like jeans hardened to a shell by decades of not washing them. Fans leave Dante's looking as though they've seen God, or the Stooges in '69. There is rock after age 55, and its names are Loomis and Cole. JS.

1:15 am: YACHT/E*Rock, Towne Lounge

The two-hour yay-vibe-filled collaborative set of YACHT (Jona Bechtolt) and E*Rock (Eric Mast) climaxes with Bechtolt riding around the room on E*Rock's shoulders. Somehow the two manage to stand on a chair like that for a second, only to crash to the floor in the middle of the crowd. The set ends with Bechtolt thanking North by Northwest and The Rocket for inviting them to play. MPB.