Gang of Four

[July 23rd, 2008] In the world of music festivals, five years is a long-ass time. There was only one Woodstock, really, and the touring incarnation of Lollapalooza lasted six years before throwing in the towel (both tried less-epic comebacks). Locally, the 3900’ Festival lasted one year before the second was cancelled this June. But the annual PDX Pop Now! festival, which celebrates its fifth birthday this Friday through Sunday at Rotture, shows no signs of aging—even if it has caused a few gray hairs among the heads of four of its founders: Cary Clarke, Ross Beach, Greg Borenstein and Jay Caruso, who sat down with WW last week to talk about the festival’s history.

In early 2004, well over a dozen Portland music fans met at the Lucky Lab to discuss an abstract plan to create a new Portland-centric music festival. The attendees were united by their common participation on the PDX Pop electronic mailing list and the common concern that Portland’s music scene wasn’t reaching a broad audience via its venues or (WW’s) MusicfestNW, which was largely focused on out-of-town acts. The first meeting was lively: “Everybody was really excited and had all these ideas for a music festival,” Borenstein says. “The next week there were, I think, exactly four of us, and nobody else.”

PDX Pop might well have been stillborn then and there. But Todd Fadel, who ran a warehouse-sized space called Meow Meow (now Rotture), offered his venue along with suggestions as to how to make the fest a success. “He’s maybe the single person without whom none of it ever would have happened,” Clarke says of Fadel, though other supporters—like Jackpot Studios’ Larry Crane and Music Millennium’s Terry Currier—made similarly vital contributions.

“We were definitely hoping it would be awesome,” says drummer Mike McKinnon, whose band, Wet Confetti, played the fest’s first three years and is now set to return (having since been rechristened as Reporter). “But it went so incredibly smooth, we were just totally blown away.” Never mind the fact that no band has ever been paid for a PDX Pop performance. “It’s just not about that,” McKinnon says. “It has become such an awesome community-wide event, and it’s exposure to an all-ages crowd in a city that shoves that crowd away.”

It is, however, expensive to put on a music festival. PDX Pop’s total expenditures this year will run between $25,000 and $30,000, according to Borenstein (PDX Pop’s treasurer). That money is raised through sale of the fest’s annual two-disc compilation and the support of sponsors, the courting of whom is a year-round cause. “We set strong [sponsorship] rules from the beginning,” Borenstein says, “like using all local businesses. That feels really good when you’re deciding it, but then the very next thing is, ‘We need [money] to make stickers.’”

Staying grass-roots hasn’t hurt PDX Pop’s attendence. One of the introductory festival’s big draws was for quirky singer-songwriter Mirah, who packed Meow Meow’s upstairs room to its capacity of around 500. That may have been the first moment PDX Pop’s organizers knew they had a success on their hands, but it wouldn’t be the last. “I remember seeing Anne [Adams] perform as Per Se,” Borenstein says of the then-PDX Pop volunteer. “She had everybody do the ‘We Will Rock You’ drumbeat on the floor,” Beach adds, laughing. The rest of the group chimes in with favorites, including last year’s dizzying trifecta of the Ocean Floor’s twee pop, Black Elk’s blistering metal and Copy’s electro. “We had had a conversation about it, like, ‘We need to not be upset when everyone leaves during Black Elk,’” says Clarke. “But pretty much everyone stayed.” “Good music is good music,” adds Caruso. “It transcends genre, it transcends clique.”

If there’s a secret behind the ongoing success of PDX Pop, it reveals itself somewhere in the board members’ excited reminiscences. For an organization that still meets in Clarke’s Southeast Portland living room, that excitement has carried PDX Pop a long way, from the fests and compilations to a strong focus on all-ages advocacy. In contrast with the initial chaos of the Lucky Lab meeting, PDX Pop now has a dedicated staff (a 12-member volunteer board plus around 75 extra volunteers this year alone), and officially became a nonprofit this January. This slow growth, the board members agree, has kept them both stoked and sane while spending 300-odd days a year on planning, schedule tweaking and corralling sponsors.

When asked whether they’ll be involved in PDX Pop five years from now, the group lets out a collective sigh. It’s a conversation they have with each other, and in their own heads, after every year’s fest. “If you ask that right before the festival, most people would be like, ‘Yeah, I’m not going to be around next year,’” Caruso says. “Then you go to the festival, and you come off it so high.” “We’ve definitely watched kids grow up,” Clarke reasons after some discussion. PDX Pop Now! has grown up right along with them.