Emily and the Complexes/The Smiling Skull/Duke Junior and the Smokey Boots/Casa Cantina/Buffalo Killers/The Union/April 15

The rain in Spain might fall gently on the plains, but the rain in Athens pounds the bricks with more force than the hooves of Athens P.D. at Palmer Fest. Be that as it may, Athenians will get down rain or shine and, when they do, staff writer Hannah Cook and I will be among them.

After partaking in some pre-gaming...er..."snacks," we headed to the Smiling Skull to catch Emily and the Complexes. The atmosphere at the Skull was lively and we danced and twirled amidst friends and townies to the sounds of Tyler Verhagen's outlaw-acoustic-folk-blues-indie creations. He bantered with the crowd and made Harry Potter references and gave his all on every tune. Those who made their way down Union Street despite the weather were not to be disappointed. But it is not for Hannah Cook and me to stay in one place. When Verhagen (a.k.a. Emily and the Complexes) strummed his final note, we were compelled to move on.

As we made our way back to Athens' favorite crossroads (Court/Union), we ran into a few characters—including Zak, the emcee of Donkey Coffee's beloved Designated Space—and convinced them to join us at Casa Cantina for Duke Junior and the Smokey Boots. After coughing up two dollars for the cover, and receiving two frowny faces on each of our hands courtesy of the doorman's Sharpie, we positioned ourselves in front of the stage as the band set up all of its equipment. While I was rocking keen hiking sandals (monsoon season is no time for heels, ladies—certainly not in the city upon many hills), Hannah Cook's boots were itching to start smoking—and smoke they did. Duke Junior brought its A-game, playing roots so lively no toe in Casa was immune to tapping. We stayed and boogied for most of the set, but 12:45 rolled around and it was, again, time for us to be moving on.

With the Skull and Casa already covered, the only logical ending venue to our night of show-hopping was, of course, The Union, for whatever was left of Blackoutfest. We made it just in time to catch the end of an experimental band whose name I do not recall... So what I mean to say is, we made it just in time to loiter outside while we waited for word that Buffalo Killers were setting up. When word came, we were up that staircase in a hot second and positioned right at the front of the stage, ready to get our blues rock on. The Buffalo Killers started off a bit slow but once they got their momentum going, there was no stopping them. What began as a mediocre set ended with multiple bangs and an enthusiastic crowd that showed its appreciation by jostling until the law would let it jostle no more, and the bar had to give the traditional "You don't have to go home, but you do have to get the fuck out of here"—always a boost to a band's ego. Luckily, the Buffalo Killers deserve such an ego boost. I hope they enjoyed their Goodfellas and return again soon.

They say that rainy days are meant for staying in. They say that nothing good happens after 10 p.m. They say a lot of things. Hannah Cook and I refuse to take stock in such nonsense. Next time, I suggest you join us. The Athens music scene is alive, and we are all alive within it.

--Amanda Norris, Staff Writer

ACRN Lobsterfest 2012 / Day One / May 31 / Secret Show

By: Hannah Cook, Editorial Director

Photo Credit: Hannah Cook

The super secret show opening up Lobsterfest 2012 made me feel like a proud momma. It boasted just how supportive the ACRN community is. Lobsters--old, new and middle aged--shuffled into the venue that is undoubtedly too small to be hosting shows. But we made it work, shoving full bands in the corner, leaving them little room to move around. The space, though certainly limiting and probably frustrating for the bands, just sort of brings us a little closer together. We were practically forced into embraces and we were alright with it.

It was weird starting a show when most families are sitting down to dinner, but punk music was our dinner last night.

Athens’ Mom’s Weekend was first to experience the detrimental yet special (I’d like to think) setup at the Fern Gully. The kick drum kept sliding down the hill that was the wooden floor in the slanting stage area, but with the help of some friends, they got that problem figured out (despite the scratches on the floor that look like the well in The Ring). The duo played some messy punk music with a purpose. Paul Lampley yelled politically-charged messages into the mic (if they weren’t politically-charged they were about his bandmate’s cat). The two, much louder than themselves, drew a solid crowd and started off the weekend on the right foot.

Some new faces took the Fern Gully…erm…stage next. Dave Buker and the Historians, a delightful Columbus five-piece, played indie tunes that took many different shapes, anything from folky to poppy to ballad-y. Dave Buker himself was a fine gentlemen glimmering with heart-felt emotion through his lyrics and demeanor. He and his bandmates, mostly multi-instrumentalists, switched instrument duties more than once throughout their set, proving the band’s dynamic chemistry. They’re most certainly welcome back to Athens any time they please.

The familiar and beloved Emily and the Complexes took the stage last to play what was perhaps their best set yet. The four-piece, albeit missing its original bassist and playing with a fill-in (with a Hello Kitty bass strap), manned the limited space like the versatile and talented musicians they are. Frontman Tyler Verhagen, in all his man-pony tail glory, poured his heart onto his sleeve without all that sap one would expect, but more with an earnest fervor. They, once again, captured the crowd and made us wish they’d never stop playing.

But alas, it was time to move on to The Union for the first official night of Lobsterfest 2012.

"The Smorgasbord" / May 27-28 / Haffa's and GG's Bubble Tea's Basements

What do you mean Baker Center is closed? They actually expect us to walk up that hill all weekend?

Memorial Day weekend turns Athens into somewhat of a ghost town. The University essentially shuts down, most of the student body goes home, and a tumbleweed can be seen making its lonesome journey down an abandoned Court Street—granted the tumbleweed is in the form of an empty natty box… but I digress.

There is one event Memorial Day weekend that the left behind (I thought the rapture was last weekend?) can look forward to: “The Smorgasbord.”

Smorgasbord Day 1:

“The Smorgasbord” kicked off at 7:30 Friday Night at Union Arts, a.k.a the Basement of Haffa’s Records, with a performance art piece.

Here I will choose to lift a phrase from Staff Writer Scott Smith: “I’ve never been equipped to interpret interpretive dance.” Nor have I, Scott, nor have I. And so I chose to sit that one out in what was left of the day’s sunshine while I waited for word that singer/songwriter/poet Dawn Parker would be taking the stage.

Now I’ve seen Parker read at Donkey Coffee’s Designated Space pretty regularly, and the girl is honestly one of the best writers I’ve ever encountered. People who are getting ready to leave will literally sit back down when Zach Fulton (emcee of DS and organizer of the Smorgasbord) calls her to the stage just to hear her work. That being said, I had no idea she could sing. She can. Beautifully. Between her poetic lyricism and heart-breakingly smooth vocals, her set was definitely one to remember—as was her interpretation of the Decemberists’ “The Crane Wife” with which she closed.

Following Dawn was a poetry-reading by Dan Moore. Moore, another frequenter of Donkey’s DS, gave a truly phenomenal performance. I’ve seen him read his work countless times but never with this much feeling, this much truth.

I took a break from the Smorgasbord and returned for Hannah Cook’s acoustic set. She played some great originals, particularly one about a recent camping trip, but her cover of Ben Kweller’s “Lizzy” stood out above all the rest. That girl needs to put that on youtube. Immediately. It would shame all of the other covers into submission within the first 30 seconds. Cook was joined midway through her set by two other musicians, a guitarist and pianist. They complimented her well and, despite breaks to tune, put on a lovey show. I hope to see more of them in the future.

Closing out the night was another poetry-reading, this time by Jesse Pyle. If you’ve never been to Union Art’s, imagine a basement under a record store with black walls and floor, minimal lighting, a chain-link fence, a few random balloons, and an assortment of college-aged hipster kids, well over half of whom are toting liquor in their purses/murses. Now, imagine a man in a suit who looks like he just stepped out of Harvard grad school circa 1964 reading in fluent Anglo-saxon and Italian.

I love this town.

Day 2:

The Smorgasbord reconvened Saturday at 7ish in the basement of GG’s Bubble Tea.

Opening up the night was poet Justin Carel. Carel is another poetic talent who frequents DS and, again, though I have seen him read before and always been impressed, there was just something about this particular performance that showed he was pulling out all the stops. Carel has an uncanny ability of mixing beat poetics, humor, social conscious themes, and devastating nostalgia into creations that leave a listener sometimes laughing, sometimes heartbroken, sometimes a little of both, but always enthralled. On top of that, he does improvisations with help from audience suggestions. How Carel can turn the suggestions of “socks” and “turtles” into an introspective piece on humanity is something beyond me. But thank god he can.

After Carel, was a set by 99₵ Dreamz. It was honestly his best show to date. His beats were perfectly in line with his vocals, there were no technical difficulties, and he brought bags of computer paper strips. The computer paper thing might seem strange to you. Clearly, you have no idea how fun it is to mosh in a pile of that stuff. Try it. Go ahead. I’ll wait. Okay, now you understand.

Jokes and stage antics aside, 99₵ Dreamz has some seriously bitingly clever lyrics. He passed judgment on the college hook-up culture with “I still had the nerve to call you the very next day/ despite knowing that you slept with him instead of just fucking me” on the track “Somewhere Near State Street.” He sent a heartwarming shout-out to his girlfriend, Danielle Wallette. He did a duet with his best friend Jeni Shaw—a girl with crazy pipes who needs to play out more. And he even wrote a new song about the rapture, probably his most impressive one yet which deals strongly with dystopic themes: “I was there when the world was supposed to end/ May 21, 2011/ All the college kids were outside drinking their beers/ Nothing changed here.”

I left the Smorgasbord soon after the 99₵ Dreamz set, but I did stay long enough to see a particularly endearing short film about the family that owns Souvlakis’, narrated by their 8 year old daughter.

I can think of no better way to spend Memorial Day in Athens than in dark basements with good friends, good music, and good poetry. These are our college years. This is our smorgasbord.

--Amanda Norris, Staff Writer

Lobsterfest: Day Three!

Lobsterfest is right! I look like a damn lobster right now with this sunburn, and it doesn't even make sense that I do; seeing as, we were only outside for the first couple hours of the morning!

As I walked to set-up at 10 in the morning, I shot a venomous glare at a kid who was toting an umbrella as he walked, thinking his preparation for rain a curse. Turns out, my causality logic may be a bit off, but the kid was wise to have had an umbrella.

Stages were set and humans were arriving on South Beach when storm clouds started forming. Promo Director Aaron Vilk announced before the first act's playing, "We're gonna rage out here for as long as possible."

We didn't get to "rage" outside for very long at all...

Melk was the first act of the day, and the only one that got to play outdoors. Their set was preceded by a long, low growl of thunder before Mother Nature got a slapping of drowning-outage in her gloomy face from the drum and bass duo that comprised Brian Jackson and Ghost of Asa Phelps' vocalist/guitarist Ryan Ford (or "Boomer" and "Sick Old Bastard" as they preferred to be called onstage). Rough instrumentation and unintelligible lyrics were the name of the game with Melk, though, I think I may have picked up some "fuck"s here and there. The band's sound was just as ominous as the looming storm clouds that would force Lobsterfest into the South Pole below Nelson after its performance.

The migration to the South Pole was a quick one as everything got packed in and the original stages were covered with protective tarp. Inside the air-conditioned rec room in the parking garage, everyone found a place to sit and to socialize as we waited for everything to get reorganized.

Bag of Hair, formerly known as Sandcrawler, captivated the room as the drummer and guitarist went madmen on their instruments and what appeared to be an interpretive dancer in an Iron Man mask wearing an American flag as a cape pranced and flailed about. I wont lie and say that he didn't make me nervous, but those dancing at the front of the crowd didn't seem to be so weary, especially when the band announced that they were playing a song from "Pete & Pete."

Then came Legends of Wrestling

What the hell, Brotthheerrrr? Legends of Wrestling, a Grindcore sideshow of all things brutal, took place in a makeshift wrestling ring with two-man tag-team of Ty Owen and Pat Snyder pacing within its confines. They wore football pads with nails driven through them and red and black face paint. Terrifying.

With songs that were shorter than the roughly 30-second intros given to them played from a Mac and screamed over by the men within the ring, Legends of Wrestling held my and everyone else's attention.

Characters such as a honky-tonk bigot, an evangelical hater with a "God Hates Grind" sign (Aaron Vilk in drag) and Bret Hart met their ends at the hands of the Legends and their harnessed Warrior powers via guitar-beating, light-tube shattering and trashcan doom respectively. I actually found it hilarious and, even...brilliant. Too far? No. Brilliant. I even left with a bruise on my arm from being barreled into by Owen after the set. I'm just glad no one lost an eye from those football pad nails.

At that point, as I sat at the merch table, performances started blurring together for me, perhaps because it was nearing dinner time and I had yet to have breakfast or that my sunburn was starting to eat at my brain. The tunes just weren't motivating me to get up from being the obsessively organizing shirt-nazi behind the merch table to get a better view.

In Silent Moves, Whale Zombie, and Manor Animals are bands I often hear praised here in Athens and in this blog, but that I had neither actually "scene" nor heard (haha, get it?) until Lobsterfest. All three, especially the latter two, drew a very distinct crowd, one that appeared to have actually seen them play as many times as I had heard they were playing. They danced, sang along and had a fabulous time to the music.

I must admit at this point that my attention is something that is easily lost, and -- though the music was good, I can't remember much of it. Again, sunburn blur. I do, however, remember one song from, I believe, Manor Animals that had the lyrics, "Oh, oh, oh my God!" happening. That was cute.

I believe it was during Scubadog's performance that I left to edit Carolyn's review of Lobsterfest Day 2 and came back to catch the end of The Cutter Family's set then to be re-energized by Tin Armor, whose music made me start bobbing my head again.

I was able to stick around just long enough to see my favorite local band, The Ghost of Asa Phelps.

I don't know why I even like those guys. There's so much dude happening all the time with them. Seriously. It's an almost overwhelming amount of brothership. Well, maybe I like them because I like dudes. Maybe I have an attraction to dudeship. Nah, I think it's the fact that the bassist definitely started playing Alkaline Trio's "Trouble Breathing" as they soundchecked. That's what gets me with those guys: It's familiarity and closeness to my tastes that most other Athens bands don't offer that helps make me feel more secure in this place. Now I'm writing like I'm selfish, but whatever. I enjoy the band. What can I say?

The last time I had seen TGOAP, the band performed a Misfits cover, and I'll admit that I was crossing my fingers for another one this round, but I wasn't disappointed when they covered "Fortunate Son" by Creedence Clearwater Revival for the singer's father. It certainly lead to sing-alongs and grins... Not that sing-alongs aren't the absolute norm for those guys. Again, DUDES, a pack of them, are always found in the front row ready to lend their voices for gang vocals. They played two new songs, one of which was a slow one, described by the band's singer/guitarist as being "about a girl, but -- in a way -- aren't they all?" True.

I left at 8:30 p.m. just before She Bears played to look for an icy lake of aloe into which I could throw my sensitive-skinned self. Before I left, I took note from Ty that I should at least come back to see Coltrane Motion play. I probably should have and would have taken that suggestion had I not fallen ill by the time I reached my dorm room.

Oh, well. I got my 10 hours in at Lobsterfest and can't wait to do it again next year!

Fortunately, Miss Hannah Cook was there to tell you how the rest of the day went!

--Cassie Whitt, Blogs Editor

_____

I didn’t even know this so-called South Pole existed. When the sky was cracked down the middle with a strike of lightening and everyone collectively decided to move the show inside, I was so confused as to why they were going into a parking garage. “You…you guys. That’s…not…a place,” I thought. It was a place, though, with a stage and a refrigerator and chairs and inside-ness. But it was an odd atmosphere for live music. I felt like I was in the lobby of a hospital or in a dining hall at a summer camp. Needless to say, it just didn’t seem like the right place for Lobsterfest.

But Lobsterfest controlled the South Pole. South Pole did not control it. And despite the technical and weather mishaps, bands, duos, lobsters and weirdos alike rose to the occasion.

As Cassie covered the beginning of the day, I shall cover the end. Although, there are a few things from the beginning that I’d like to discuss. Only because…shit got weird. And sort of scary.

Ty Owen, I hardly know you, but you never ever fail to freak me out entirely, and I’m sure that’s sort of the point. Cassie will do the description justice, but I just had to add my personal thoughts and feelings about the matter.

First, I hope the three dudes who got hit brutally by light bulbs, guitars, chairs, “cocaine,” etc. are okay. It looked painful and real. I hope that I didn’t look like too much of a pansy in comparison to the badassness when I threw my hands to my cheeks and widened my eyes in worry.

Second, those boys are quite the screamers and quite the intimidators. They were just pacing around the home-made wrestling ring, making a mess, spitting water, dripping sweat and face paint, beating the crap out of people. Dear GOD.

Third, way to be inventive. I wasn’t sure what to expect as I had heard mutters of eagerness about this Legends of Wrestling. I honestly thought it was going to be a band playing whilst people wrestle. But this was much more creative.

Music wise, not really my style. I’m much more in to calm Indie delightfulness. If I had to put a contrary to that, it would probably be Legends of Wrestling. It’s okay though, because the show in and of itself was entertainment enough for me.

I missed a few bands during my naptime. I know, I know. I shouldn’t have missed Lobsterfest for a nap. But if you only knew my weariness. It just had to be done.

I also skipped out on a couple bands who I had seen before, like She Bears and The Ghost of Asa Phelps, so I wasn’t terribly upset, though I am sorry.

What I was terribly upset about, however, was that I didn’t get to see what musical essence the young man in the dress (Evolve) had to offer. I knew, just from lookin’ at ‘im, that it was probably going to be really interesting and probably really worth not napping. When I walked in as he was clearing off his technological who-nots, I asked about him. Apparently it was a DJing and rapping sort of thing. Which makes it all so much more bizarre. I guess I’ll never know.

I caught the end of Coltrane Motion, who were really cool. They were two men sounding like many more. One was on a keyboard and computer, the other on electric guitar, and they worked together to form danceable beats and clever sounds. There’s nothing I love more than some good electriconically-steered music. The movement of their bodies only added to it all. They twisted their legs around, slammed their feet backward, jumped, hunched over, nearly always looking like they would fall down. They were limitless.

I wondered who the people in bright yellow, marching band-looking uniforms were and apparently I was really out of the loop for not knowing. Forgive my ignorance. They were Flotation Walls, and they were magnificent. They had dynamics and joyous harmonies that were radiating like a sun’s rays through their bright yellow bodies. The girl’s voice was so beautiful. It had a sort of opera tone about it, very full and impeccable. But then she could also make it rougher and loud. It's the sort of voice I wish I had, but I won’t digress to that. At the last song, the lead singer, in all his cheery sincerity, came off the stage and into the crowd, as we all sung our last verse of “oohs” and “aahhs” together, like an unpolished choir.

Check out a video our Managing Editor Kevin Rutherford took of Flotation Walls' performance:

Flotation Walls - "Kids, Look at the Waves" from Kevin Rutherford on Vimeo.

Russenorsk was the last band I saw. I honestly don’t feel like I can be the one to write about them. They’re an Athens legend I unfortunately missed as a youngin’. But I looked around often, at all the people in the crowd who clearly realized what they had missed since September. And they were rejoicing in the reunion, both with tears and smiles. Perhaps the song that triggered wild emotions most was “Long Winter’s Coming.” Even in me it did, and I wasn’t around to see any of this unfold.

The cello was alluring behind Tim’s unique chords and crafty loop pedaling. Man, I love a good orchestral string instrument in modern music. All their instrumentation pieced together so perfectly. It just didn’t seem like they hadn’t played in months. Their warning of potential rustiness was not necessary No apologies were needed, and no forgiveness was shed. Everyone was just enjoying the moment for what it was worth and soaking in the nostalgia. This whole thing needs a much grander description and appreciation than what I’ve given. But if you were there, you know.

I missed Sidekicks! Crap! Apparently it was a good show too. I just figured since I wasn’t that into to pop-punk stuff that it just wasn’t for me. Stupid stereotyping!

Alas, my first Lobsterfest is over, and those set to leave have had their last. We young ones have big shoes to fill and a turny, adventurous route of footsteps to follow. We can only hope we’ll make it out alive and well, the way our old friends have.

I was going to get all sentimental about the leaving seniors and juniors, but this may not be the right place or right time. I can’t get like that anyway; I have finals to study for.

--Hannah Cook, Live Reviews Editor

Photos and Flotation Walls video Courtesy of Managing Editor Kevin Rutherford

ACRN Lobsterfest 2012 / Day Three / June 2 / South Beach

To Be Determined

By: Amanda Norris, Staff Writer

The morning crowd on South Beach was decidedly split between middle aged proud parents and classmates of To Be Determined, one of the winners from the Athens High School Battle of the Bands. Their set was mostly made up of covers -- the standards: Red Hot Chili Peppers and Sublime -- mixed in with a few originals. Your typical high school jam band, complete with joking rock goddery on the part of their lead singer, but it was some good background music to start the day. Except for that "Call Me Maybe" cover. Not cool, boys. Not cool.

Cop Hugger

By: Matt Bemer, Copy Editor


The former post was retracted because of a miscommunication between the author of the post and the reader. In it, the author led the reader to believe that Max Wheeler was indeed the frontman playing Cop Hugger's Lobsterfest 2012 set.


I was excited to see Cop Hugger take the stage. The band isn't known for playing places outside of bars or houses because of their hardcore sound. It's always interesting to me to see how that sound translates into a different atmosphere.


Max Wheeler, the band's lead singer, was out of town for the set, so Spencer Radcliffe (a friend of the band) took the stage in his place. Radcliffe's most notable accomplishments come from his electronic project Blithe Field. But to the passersby and to those unfamiliar with the music of Cop Hugger, Radcliffe was a fine substitute. 


Cop Hugger played with great gusto. The set lasted around 15 minutes, but to those familiar with the band, that is not an uncommon thing. It's an aesthetic of the genre -- straightforward frustration expressed through yells over three power chords lasting only a minute or so in length.


Despite being somewhat out of their element at two in the afternoon in the middle of a residential green, Cop Hugger adapted.

Scubadog

By: Hannah Cook, Editorial Director

It can never be too early for Scubadog. The band (though missing their other guitarist this time 'round) took the ever so slightly raised stage on South Beach around 1:30 p.m. with the sunshine glimmering behind them. Not many were there yet to see the beloved Scubadog in an abnormal setting compared to their frequent bar shows. But the band proved that no matter the audience, they boast the most delightful of musical integrity (even with a missing bandmate). 

Most things about the band's set were fairly typical in the realm of Scubadog -- comical stage banter, authentic energy and all-around indie rock excellence. But frontman Jake Householder did change things up more than a bit when he invited a lone audience member up on stage to sing with him. Her name escapes me, but her voice does not, as it weaved with Householder's cracked falsetto perhaps flawlessly. And to think we just thought she was there to enjoy Lobsterfest.

Fat History Month & SIGN-OFF

By: Scott Smith, Staff Writer

I couldn't help but notice the nice family sitting in lawn chairs at the back of Lobsterfest. A mommy, a daddy and a young girl enjoying the picturesque June day and the sweet sounds of...Fat History Month? SIGN-OFF? Something's not right here.

While there's a fair deal of screaming about these acts, nothing about them necessarily screams "family-oriented," at least in the traditional sense, anyway. 

But they stayed through all the noise, all the lyrical F-bombs and crowd-attributed F-bombs. They even looked like they were bobbing their heads ever so slightly. Were they residents of Athens who just attend Lobsterfest every year? I couldn't figure it out, but I was happy they were there.

We all caught Fat History Month first. A duo who came over from Boston, the band seemed to be enjoying themselves more than any other act at the festival. They embraced the crowd, who in turn responded similarly. The love affair with Athens continued even after Lobsterfest when the group played a second house show later in the night.

Next was SIGN-OFF, another noisy duo that is more familiar to the area. They were about halfway through their bare-bones, bass and drum set when bassist Morgan Garrett announced, "My parents are here," and BOOM, it all made sense. 

What made this even better was that Garrett didn't change his performance one iota just because his parents were there. He hopped around sort of awkwardly and screamed so loud his voice cracked. He even let his eyes roll into the back of his head. Some young performers might feel anxiety with a performance like that. Their style of music might be seen as taboo by a more traditional set of eyes and ideas, but that's who Garrett is as a musician and nothing is going to (in fact nothing can or should) change who he is or how he performs.

Or maybe he just has rad parents. I would bet the answer is both.

Reading Group

By: Ben Haager, Contributor

Reading Group, from Louisville, was one of the bands that Kory Kasler, Matt Bemer and I really could not wait to see on Snaturday. They describe themselves as "pop-punk, maybe," and the "maybe" portion of that is quite accurate because I don't really know how to place them in a genre. Their guitars were loud, drums spot-on at driving the tempo and Lacey Guthrie's vocals were just downright gorgeous. They even took a request from Matt to add the song "Holy Kisser" on to the end of their set. I'm not usually a fan of female singers, but when it comes to Reading Group, I make quite the exception. In fact, I bought a t-shirt, pack of buttons and cassette tape (yes a cassette tape) following their set. Reading Group, you guys (and gal) rule.

Evolve

By: Katie O'Leary, Art Director

Evolve, also know as Colin Murray, daintily took the stage after Reading Group in a pink dress and a table full of flashing switches and beat mixing equipment.

Most of the audience wasn’t sure what to expect. He had yellow-tinted hair piled on his head and introduced himself as “Nancy." The crowd laughed a little uncertainly and Evolve began the show. 

Personally, I had just heard he played electronic music and mixed beats. After about two minutes he began rapping. Not at all what I expected.

His songs covered everything from total anarchy to intense drug use. I found myself enjoying all of it. He had an awesome flow to his words that was completely different from the voice of “Nancy” he had taken on before.

He complained of minor technical difficulties due to the sun hindering his ability to see the lights on his mixing boards. However, he managed to put together a stellar performance for Lobsterfest. 

Xray Eyeballs

By: Amanda Norris, Staff Writer

Xray Eyeballs: garage rock suited to your favorite underground night club, decked out in slick black and white complete with ultra-hip style and demeanor. Their relentless shoegaze-esque sound would own The Union and the night, but it wasn't as well-suited to a midafternoon outdoor festival as we might have liked. That aside, this is a band to watch and the fact that their guitarist wore the Snat costume the rest of the day made me proud as hell to have them at Lobsterfest. Come back through and play The Union Xray. We'd love to see it. 

Pujol

By: Amanda Norris, Staff Writer

Though I am always hesitant of making committed statements about which bands will blow up and which bands, though possibly deserving of fame and fortune, will disappear into obscure indie rock history, I'm going to make an exception. I can't help but feel like a few months from now we'll be telling people, "Yeah, we booked Pujol for Lobsterfest..." Why? Because exactly one week from gracing our humble stage on South Beach, they will be playing Bonnaroo -- not exactly a small feat. They played to a small crowd of dedicated ACRNites, but they didn't mind. Cracking jokes and making conversational banter with the intimate bunch, this down-to-earth trio put on an entertaining closing set. Their tunes were great, but so was their attitude. They even stuck around afterward to talk to the crowd and stage crew, genuinely interested in learning about what makes Athens special. You probably won't get that interaction in Tennessee next weekend. Come at us Bonnaroo.

A touch of home (plus some supa' fans) at Casa

Finally. A night where the miserable cold isn’t hindering my ability to walk safely and comfortably around town. Instead, it’s pleasant and agreeing with most everyone’s outfits of shorts or skirts or bare arms. For now, I’ll not bitterly question Ohio for it’s consistent fluctuation in weather. I’ll forget about the fact that it was snowing on my Spring Break because tonight I’m not wearing my Sam’s Club winter coat (thanks, Dad) and it’s okay.

My friend and I arrived to Casa a little after 10:00 in hopes that things would have sort of gotten started. But one thing I’ve learned is that shows in Athens never really start when they say they will on Facebook. So we walk through, pay our 7 dollars and get a smiley face drawn on our hands. Yeah I get it. I’m not 21. Drawing a smiley face doesn’t make me feel any better about that. Big, bold permanent marker is big, bold permanent marker no matter the shape it’s drawn in.

Anyway, we sort of awkwardly waited around for Manor Animals to begin. I’ve seen them a fair amount of times and if my ears heard correctly, they played for us some new tunes that’ll be coming out on their new EP here soon. They also tapped around on this odd little white contraption that made neat sparkling noises. I wonder what it was...?

Pomegranates, a band from Cincinnati, came on after. Naturally, I was pretty giddy about seeing them not only because they’re super good at playing this pretty unique music, but also because it felt like a little piece of home (that I missed a lot quite honestly) was coming to remind me that it was still there. Of course, that wasn’t what Pomegranates came to do. I mean, they don’t even know me. Regardless, they played, and it was wondrous. Jumpy and dreamlike noises were being showered on the crowd and it felt even more surreal with smoke drifting around their bodies and through gleaming green lights.

The reaction of listeners was also sort of surreal. I couldn’t decide who to watch and wonder about more - the four girls in the front who were obviously all about some Pomegranates as they were flailing and singing and taking pictures of themselves with the band in the background... OR the plaid-shirted man to the right of the stage who was dancing like an old fool and making all sorts of dancing faces. He was funny. Since the Pomegranates' supa’ fans were standing right in front of me, they took up most of my distraction from the band. Thanks a lot. No, I’m kidding. Pomegranates are really good, I know. They deserve some serious attention, no matter the way it’s presented I suppose.

I reluctantly left with my friend after they played and ended up missing Southeast Engine. But I can imagine they were Athens’ favorite and played as well as they ever do. I can imagine people danced like old fools.

-Hannah Cook, Staff Writer

Country Time = Sexy Time

Paying the two dollar underage fee for a free show was entirely worth it. I’d even take that poorly drawn…angry(?) face on both my hands, ‘cause Andy Friedman’s in town, everybody! Not only is his rough folk soul terribly handsome, but he also has some serious talent, both musically and artistically.

Upon my arrival to Casa Cantina, it was like I had walked into a country line dance. Er, something of the sort. There weren’t really any lines, or synchronized foot kicks, but there was some…sort of grinding going on, which amazed me or made me feel awkward. Is it possible to feel both those at the same time? Anyway, aside from the sexified do-si-do-ing, there were some more original moves going on. Hips and arms were flailing about and drunken smiles were wild.

Although there’s no harm in being more indulged in your moving bodies, it irked me a little when Friedman played a slower song that was not quite fit for dancing, and people just turned away and talked loudly amongst themselves. It seemed he literally was just playing to the backs of people’s conversations. Granted, it was a bar. I understand that. I guess I just felt bad for those few minutes.

On a lighter note, the bassist was probably the cutest man I’ve ever seen. He looked something like Michael Bolton from "Office Space." His cute, little glasses rested a little ways down his nose and his eyes peered around anxiously as his mouth formed happy frowns (if that makes sense). His pants were a little too short, and his button-up, short-sleeved flannel was only partially tucked in. He. Was. Wonderful.

Duke Junior came on after and continued to be the source of rhythm for those dancing. As usual, they were entirely loved by everyone for every minute. They’ve got a sensual twang about them. I hope they never leave Athens.

--Hannah Cook, Live Reviews Editor

ACRN's Date Auction 2011

So this year's ACRN Date Auction was successful, to say the very least.

I made it just in time last night to catch the end of She Bears' set and immediately regretted not having arrived sooner. Because had I come to The Union before 12:30, I might have seen more of the band's delightfully catchy rock performance, which they executed sans shirts. Delicious.

After a couple bottles of liquid courage in the form of PBR (judge on), I was ready to be auctioned off with some Wizard's Guild goodies. During this intermission, the rest of a troupe of ACRN members and other prizes were sold to the highest bidders of the night. Thanks so much to all who participated!

Whale Zombie took the stage after the auction closed and brought their standard level of distorted, surf-y, noisy rock in an appropriately deafening volume. After playing for a while, the trio ended on an extremely heavy noise jam note, allowing outsiders (who I assumed to be friends) to assist in adding to the noise on the various instruments.

Overall, a good time was had by all, and the funds for Lobsterfest were supplemented in a generous and exciting way.

--Courtney Baldasare, Editorial Director



Another Perspective:

Let's just say it's a little bit discouraging being bought for $17 from a girl you don't even know. I would imagine she just wanted a cheaper tattoo, seeing as I came with a Decorative Injections coupon, but still. Come on. I even offered a free slice of Goodfella's of whatever flavor you wanted. There's only cheese and pepperoni, but essentially the possibilities are endless.

Regardless, ACRN's Date Auction was a total blast. There was a really decent turn-out, wonderful music and rambunctious times.

Brothertiger played first, and so we danced, of course, because that's what you do when a delicious slice of electronic pop music is handed to you. And it was his birthday, so happy birthday, Brothertiger.

After that was some bidding. That went well, though it seemed like the only people truly interested in buying people were people in ACRN. At one point, I bought Matt Wesley and a certificate to Fluff for $12. Best $12 I ever spent, but Matt, I expect a band practice from you now. Lord knows is been way too long.

She Bears was next and it's an understatement to say they were well-received. Two girls bought them for $150 and a romantic pizza-party in Columbus. Oh and also for them to take their shirts off. Nice.

The crowd had dwindled a bit by the time Whale Zombie came on, but those left were a raucous bunch. I was forced into a playful mosh pit that had me sliding and falling all over the floor. Dangerous, but fun. Sometimes you just have to live life on the edge.

--Hannah Cook, Managing Editor

ACRN St. Jude Benefit Show / May 5 / The Smiling Skull

A sleepy brain and a game of “Would You Rather” later, and we were on our way to the Smiling Skull. We were apprehensive of the price at first, but morally we couldn’t allow ourselves to use that excuse, given the show was a benefit for St. Jude Children's Research Hospital. We had to think of the children.

The Athens-famous, omnipotent, flawless Nurser took the stage (of sorts) first. Things went better than the last time I saw them, but their music is so weird that it’s hard to tell when things aren’t going well. I mean that in the best way possible. There are definitely some inventive sounds coming from them, particularly from Shane Riley’s guitar. He finds the most obscure notes to play, but stirs them together so that they transition solidly.

They had some new material to lay on the growing crowd, one song in which bassist Sam Mink had to step out because he hadn’t learned his part yet. To that, Riley said something along the lines of, “Our bassist can’t play to this song because it’s such a rager.”

Blithe Field was next and to my and everyone else’s dismay, he was having technical difficulties. He tried to push through as best he could, but the beats weren’t quite the way they were meant to be. Still, he had a supportive crowd that wished him well, but his set was forced to end too soon.

Stomp the Condor, very much unlike Blithe Field, was a weirdo, rambunctious bunch. Or, really just the lead singer/keyboardist/guitarist was. They played rowdy tunes that the crowd greeted with rowdy energy. It was punk rock and other stuff at its finest. A couple of them took off their shirts, too, and of course that’s always a good time, even more so when the shirtless are wearing jorts.

The crowd was at its largest with Brothertiger, which usually is the case every time he plays. I only stuck around for a couple of songs, but left a trippy, happy, dancing group of people. That’s alls yous gotta do, anyway.

Apparently we raised $300! May good causes be benefited and may good music be cherished for all of eternity.

--Hannah Cook, Managing Editor