Summerfest Part 3: The Performer

 

Image from MySpace

 Words by Brian Whitney

As I left my apartment on the morning of Friday, July 3rd, I saw a boy, about 11 or 12 years old, across the street. In his hands was a tiny Fender amplifier and strapped to his back was a guitar in a nondescript gig bag, the kind that probably came in a pack that a well-meaning relative bought him for a birthday.

I wanted to stop him — stop him, because I was once the 12-year-old boy lugging musical equipment into a bedroom, and learning how to tune and slowly, how to play, maybe even how to write songs. And while I don’t exactly know where the story ends, we can say with 99 percent certainty that any kind of dreams or even expectations of fame, financial well-being, and widespread adoration are completely misguided, for you or anyone you know.

Of course, these are the kinds of things that go through your mind when performing at Summerfest. The Fest is a celebration of the great (Bob Dylan), the once-mighty (Kid Rock, Huey Lewis) and the never-will-be’s (early afternoon cover bands on the Harley Davidson stage, those Ecuadorian pan flute players). Last year, I visited Summerfest as a general observer, and my overall impression was that of general mundanity, both in terms of the players and the attendees. Friday’s Cascio stage was a bit different than standard Summerfest fare (someone backstage referred to it as “the stage for people who hate Summerfest”). I wouldn’t exactly equate my feelings about the Big Gig as hatred. More ambivalence, but I understood what he meant.

A younger version of myself would have been excited about the possibility of a great cultural collision of punk rockers versus the masses. The current incarnation of me can’t make things that simple, and also is aware that there are twelve concurrent stages of music and people were more than able to choose something more to their liking.

All this being said, the set went pretty well. I drank half a Red Bull before the show, because it was free, even though I know that Red Bull Turns me into a jittery mess. Sure enough, I made several Taurine-induced mistakes during White Problems‘ 22 minute (a record) set. There’s that old show biz adage that ‘the audience doesn’t have a copy of the script’, or something to that effect, and any truly noticeable errors I can pawn off on the drummer (half kidding).

It could be worse. The singer from Curb apparently thought that it would be a good idea to get naked during their 5:30 p.m. set. The authorities arrived, arrests were made and order was restored. While this act may have insured that Curb would be the most notable Cascio stage band of the day, I’m pretty happy that White Problems won’t have that kind of notability (my experiences with singers sans clothing have been well-documented at this point, and for the record, I did play the second half of a show in boxers, once, though in my defense, my Paul Revere costume was too hot).

To get back to the beginning, it was probably wise to let that kid go on with his guitar, amp and dreams. Nobody’s story is fully written yet; there are numerous examples of those who have struggled early on, only to achieve success later in life (Alfred Hitchcock, Cezanne, Charles Bukowski). Sometimes the odds succeed, sometimes the underdog prevails. It’s why we play.

Summerfest Part 1: The Observer

 

images courtesy of Google

Words by Brian Whitney

Wednesday night’s Marcus Amphitheater show featured a meeting of two music legends with very different legacies. The bar-friendly country rock of Willie Nelson stood in stark contrast to the mythological poetic rock of Bob Dylan, a contrast that was even reflected in the billing of the show (Willie Nelson and the Family vs. Bob Dylan and his band.) The men used differing approaches to the Big Rock Concert, but achieved similar results.

The septuagenarian Nelson opened the show, with his aforementioned Family Band that included his real life son Jacob playing maracas. Willie rolled through hit after hit (“On the Road Again”, “Always On My Mind”) , starting many of the songs simply by singing the first line and letting the band file in behind him. This seemingly ramshackle approach fit the vibe of the band pretty well (bassist Bee Spears spent much of the time between songs slugging from what appeared to be a bottle of Alize; it takes little effort to imagine what the tour bus atmosphere is like) and the part of the crowd that had spent most of the day drinking at Summerfest ate it up. Most notable among the revelers was a man who looked similar to Ric Ocasek only with long blonde hair, who danced violently through much of Willie’s set despite the fact that the rest of the audience was seated; every show with amphitheater-style seating has at least one lone, ridiculous dancer. At this point, Willie’s voice sounds kind of like Garrison Keillor’s speaking voice, but he has vowed to keep playing until his beloved guitar, Trigger, is unplayable. (I am not making this up.)

The headlining set of Bob Dylan was another matter entirely. Dylan’s been on what he refers to as a “Never-Ending Tour”, playing over 100 shows a year since 1988(!), though this was his first American show of the year. Dylan plays songs from throughout his storied career, but with the caveat that he plays them in the style of Bob Dylan, 2009, a 68 year old songwriter who appears to be fascinated with cowboy and Mexican culture. The 12 bar rock treatment worked quite well on some songs (“Highway 61 Revisited”, “Stuck Outside of Mobile With the Memphis Blues Again”) and not so well on others (a barely recognizable ”Desolation Row”.) It’s true that Dylan’s voice has faded in his old age; his younger voice was not unlike a thick, creamy mayonnaise, compared to the modern Dylan’s caustic oil and vinegar. The band covered the minor vocal weakness well, meshing and performing flawlessly in sync, to the point of wearing matching gray sport coats and black flat brimmed hats. All this being said, I don’t think a real Bob Dylan fan would go to a concert of his expecting to sing along to the hits, and at a point where others of his generation have lost relevance (Neil Young, Joni Mitchell, The Rolling Stones) Dylan continues to push the envelope, and the musical world is a better place for it. It’s relatively easy to point to the “last great record” by many Sixties artists (go back to that last parentheses and see what you come up with,) but what would that answer be for Bob? He’s released three solid records in the last decade, and one truly great one, Time Out of Mind, back in 1997. The man is not a nostalgia act, and the show only reinforces this fact.

(Coming next week, Summerfest Part 2: The Performer.)

Tonight: Roster McCabe @ The Rave

Photo courtesy of the artist
Words by Laura D. Kezman

Their music does not break open doors nor do they tread unfamiliar ground, but the undeniable soul of Roster McCabe leaks through them onstage like their name leaked through Summerfest grounds this past summer. Audiences flocked to familiar sounds Roster McCabe delivered for the full eleven days of Summerfest. The Minneapolis-based band made their imprint on Milwaukee by July 6, and now they are on their way to make another one at The Rave this Saturday, Dec. 6.

MP3: “The Traveler,” Roster McCabe

The playful workings of a saxophone and jazzy arrangements and vocals redefine what tends to get predictable. By weaving in obvious reggae influences, their album The Rhythm/ The Elements keep listeners on their toes by making them comfortable with each track, until the next one starts bringing an entirely different sensation. “Burn Bright” carries the smooth transition from calm saxophone to an energizing guitar solo until “The Traveler” begins, instantly igniting any listener with the need to move their feet in response to the distinct rhythm created by the multi-layered reggae melody. As most of it remains instrumental, lyrics that insist: “And then you take a deep breath/ And you move your feet to the sound/ And then you exhale real slow/ And you move your feet off the ground” are designed to motivate listeners into doing just that.

Lead singer, Alex Steele, provides the same soothing vocals in the way that distinguishes Dave Matthews or John Mayer—though lacking the vocal-centric aesthetic that sets both of them a part.

Roster McCabe is continuing to keep their names fresh in Milwaukee’s mind as they are also doing so on a wider plain throughout the Midwest. Hitting festivals in northern Minnesota and selling out auditoriums in Minneapolis, the intimate radius they have right now will only expand with time.

Have no regrets catching them this Saturday at The Rave, where their audience can enjoy a compressed version of the impressive sets they delivered the eleven days at Summerfest.

Summerfest, The Morning After. (or, References For the Devil.)

By Brian Whitney

“Hindsight is twenty-twenty, my friend.” –Chevy Chase, Dirty Work

Looking back, my expectation of Summerfest was not unlike Chase’s character betting against Rocky in Rocky III. My plan was simple: drink a few beers, show up and see what happens. I was certain that I would find something of interest among the standard issue overpriced vendors and numerous stages. Since there was no performer I was particularly interested in seeing, I figured I’d pick a day when I had free time and the weather was nice and find some intriguing subplot. Simple enough, right?

My search for transcendence at the Summerfest Grounds would be short lived. The most interesting moment (from an unintentionally comedic standpoint) happened when a band gave a shout out to the Summerfest Grounds and the Harley Davidson stage that they were playing on before going into eight bars of the whitest version of “We Got The Funk” that I have ever heard. But really, that was about it. The bands that I briefly saw were mostly indistinguishable from each other, trying to one up each other with unusual covers of hit songs past. My personal favorite was the all girl band that covered Harvey Danger’s “Flagpole Sitta”. Their version differed from the original in that it sounded like it was trying to sell me soda or possibly a car.

The spectators that I spoke to compounded the blandness of the rock acts. Most were either there to see Rascal Flatts (a country band I admittedly had never heard of) or Paramore (a band I saw introduce other band’s videos on MTV once.) Most hadn’t seen anything interesting or exciting, except for one girl who said she had seen “a guy rolling joints on the hood of his car,” which I guess is interesting in the context of her existence. I thought, perhaps, the beer vendors would have better tales, but they apparently had been briefed not to grant any interviews and I couldn’t get anything out of them.

My flirtation with a mainstream musical culture I was not familiar with made me feel extremely confused. I didn’t feel any particular like or dislike for any of the performers, and I don’t feel like my experience would have been changed at all if you simply removed the music. Like a trip to Great America, the venue itself is the experience. If asked what I did, I would answer, “I went to Summerfest,” and this answer would be a sufficient explanation of the day’s activities.

Mainstream experiments with true alternative musical culture produce a similar result. One recent example involves the band No Age and the new Friday Night show FNMTV, hosted by Fall Out Boy bassist/Ashlee Simpson betrothed Pete Wentz. In addition to hosting, Wentz picks the videos that are shown, and one of his choices was No Age’s video for “Eraser”. Scrolling down to the comments section reveals an interesting product: mostly confusion from people who don’t understand why the singing doesn’t start until the third minute. It raises an interesting point about context. To me, the song “Eraser” seems like a summer pop anthem, but in the eyes of the demographic with the ability to crown it as such, it comes across as weird and confusing. The ultimate lesson here is that music and the culture that surrounds it is a many splendored thing, and some collisions are never meant to occur.

?uestlove 4th of July DJ Set @ Stonefly!

In case you’ve been Rip Van Winkled these last few weeks, The Roots are playing the Miller Lite Oasis at Summerfest this Friday, July 4. But even bigger is the news that, afterward, drummer Amhir “?uestlove” Thompson will be doing a DJ set at Stonefly (735 E. Center St. / Milwaukee).

Uh, what? For real? YES, for real.

For the uninitiated, this is a pretty special event. Kind of like when Kraftwerk chose Milwaukee as one of only four cities it was performing in this past year. Only for Hip-hop. Thomspon’s rubbed musical elbows with everyone from J Dilla and Jay-Z (the recorded an entire “Unplugged” album together), to John Paul Jones (watch this) and Al Green (he produced Green’s latest album– one of the best Green’s recorded in years). He also has a tendency to share tales online of both his unique international crate digging finds, and MP3s of projects that either haven’t yet happened, or never will. (*cough* D’Angelo’s third album *cough*).

Tickets are $15, while they last. Element Everest and Sose will be your hosts for the evening, and the ubiquitous Kid Cut Up opens up on the turntables. The show starts at 10 p.m., so if you’re smart, you’ll get there as soon as humanly possible.