September 10th, 2010 5:33 pm | by Local Cut Music | Posted In: Columns, Live Cuts

MusicfestNW Diaries: Wednesday and Thursday

MajorLazer_AndyWrightWell, it's been a fun start. We saw the Thermals play a Weezer cover, lots of simulated sex at Roseland and Big Freedia bouncing with strippers at Sassy's, among other fun surprises. Booty truly was everywhere. In both the pirate's treasure sense and the ass sense. Here are the first batch of diaries, with insight from (in no particular order) Robert Ham, Mark Stock, Matt P. Singer, Chris Stamm, Aaron Mesh, Kelly Clarke, Michael Mannheimer, Casey Jarman, Ben Waterhouse, Shane Danaher, Rebecca Raber, Ruth Brown and Andy Kryza.


Ace Cleaners, 7:15 pm
The shmoozing, the introductions, the idle conversation...I should never go to these kick-off parties. But wait, open bar? Bunk sandwiches? Swag bags?! THIS SWAG BAG HAS A LOTTERY TICKET IN IT! (CJ)

Crystal Ballroom, 9:55 pm.
There's electricity in the air and it's buzzing in the form of desperate scalpers and grinning wristband holders. People are marching up the stairs to the Crystal Ballroom like they're on the way to the circus. Some skip, others hold hands with strangers. I imagine the smell of cotton candy and look forward to the Panda Bear exhibit. (MS)

Devonwho at Crystal Ballroom (Inger Klekacz)

Crystal Ballroom, 10:45 pm
This couple is having a total breakup fight at the Panda Bear show. He grabs her by the shoulders and shakes her, she says "don't touch me!" He looks indignant. This is going to be forever associated with the music of Panda Bear for these kids. Finally he storms out. She walks back into the crowd. We keep watching, but he never comes back. Maybe that was really it for them. (CJ)

Crystal Ballroom, 11:15 pm
Yes, it was a short set disgruntled kids all around me. But was it not special? Seeing Panda Bear play a brief and fuzzy set was like watching a superstar play in his basement in his pajamas. Nothing fancy, just a wizardly musician juggling genres like a clown. Panda Bear is the bridge between Beach House and the Beach Boys, Four Tet and Four Tops, Frank Sinatra and Frank Black. Still thinking about his beach-rock take on “Guys Eyes” from Merriweather Post Pavilion. And a little sick from his acid-tinged media presentation. (MS)

The Thermals (Inger Klekacz)


Doug Fir Lounge, 2 pm.
Waiting for Ted Leo with a clutch of young people who don't have real jobs. I woke up this morning unable to swallow, with limbs made of concrete. Only Leo can cure me. If I can hear "Little Dawn," I just might be able to power through until tonight. A thought occurs: if I knew I was going to wake up with a hangover, I would have gotten drunk last night. (CS)

Doug Fir Lounge, 2:30 pm.
Day shows just feel wrong somehow. I don't like the experience of having to shield my eyes from the sun when I get out of the venue. But, for Ted Leo and his mighty Pharmacists, I'll get over my bias for a little while. The boys played a quick six-song set for broadcast on Seattle's KEXP, a set surprisingly heavy on older material--“Colleen,” “Timorous Me,” “I'm A Ghost” and “Shake The Sheets” all made appearances--and surprisingly beefy for mid-afternoon. Is it wrong to use that descriptor about a band led by a vegan? (RH)

Doug Fir Lounge, 2:40 pm.
Ted Leo's yawning. Drummer Chris Wilson is pounding Starbucks. Seeing rock gods in the afternoon is like walking in on your naked grandmother: unnatural and awkward, but, in some profound way I'd rather not delve into too deeply, kind of magical. Ted doesn't play "Little Dawn," but he opens with "Timorous Me," which is close enough to what I needed. I can do this. (CS)

Wonder Ballroom, 4:45 pm.
Washed Out -- bedroom beatmaker Ernest Greene to his parents -- is riding a mid-afternoon chillwave all by himself, with neither a backing band nor even a light show. He's trying to appear blissed out, but he mostly just looks awkward. And perhaps a little lonely. I can't tell if the crowd is entranced or bored. Maybe they're just super chill...wave. (MPS)

Wonder Ballroom, 5:50 pm.
There's something very ‘90s-futurist about New York duo Phantogram, like they teleported here from 1996 thinking every band in 2010 was going to sound like the Sneaker Pimps...which is funny, since they're now doing a new song which repeats the line “this is the future.” Eh, not really. (MPS)

Mississippi Studios, 7:00 pm.
Kicking off the festivities with fellow Aussie Henry Wagons. I always think Mississippi is closer than it is. I arrive sweaty and tired from the uphill bike ride and steel my stomach for the night ahead with one of Bar Bar's highly lauded burgers. Why do you hate flavorsome cheese so, America? (RB)

Henry Wagons (Andy Wright)

Mississippi Studios, 7:31 pm.
Wagons takes to the stage, sporting the ever-fashionable combination of cowboy shirt and sweat head-band. He thanks the small crowd for making an appearance so early. “I dedicate this show to all of you. Here's a song about us burning in hell together!" He breaks into an old number called “Man Sold.” (RB)

Mississippi Studios, 7:50 pm.


Mississippi Studios, 8:06 pm.
Wagons covers a song by another Melbourne band called "Willie Nelson." The song, that is—the band is called the Wayfaring Strangers. The now sizable crowd picks up the two-word chorus pretty quickly and screams along at Wagons' request: “Willieeee! WILLIEEEEE! WIIILLLLIEEEEE! WILLIEE NELSON!” “That was shit,” he deadpans. We scream it all again, twice as loud. (RB)

Outside Crystal Ballroom, 8:15 pm
A Crystal Ballroom security guard is in a heated argument with a vagrant over how said vagrant wound up with a suspiciously nice-looking fixed gear bike. Personally, I maintain that the trend has just gone mainstream. (SD)

Mississippi Studios, 8:20 pm.


Crystal Ballroom, 8:23 pm
Past Lives' vocalist Jordan Blilie has an interesting habit of bending his torso to nearly horizontal while performing. He still manages to belt out some impressive howls, which can signify nothing but good news about the state of his abdominal muscles. Past Lives subs a baritone guitar in lieu of a bass player, and whoever's running the Crystal Ballroom soundboard has apparently decided to compensate by turning Mark Gajadhar's bass drum up to “rolling thunder” levels of loud. (SD)

Crystal Ballroom, 8:37 pm.
Arrived later than I wanted to--damn, MFNW runs on time!--but am happy to catch some of Past Lives' set. It's so hard to believe these shimmery, arty songs are made by folks that used to be in Blood Brothers. And the Crystal's muddy sound really works for these gooey backing vocals. Jordan Billie has such a toughly feminine edge to his voice that at one point, I turned around to order my drink and wondered, “Did a woman just take the stage to sit in on this song?” Nope, Billie just sounds like Karen O. (RR)

Crystal Ballroom, 9:03 pm.
Ride down to the Crystal Ballroom. Did I just pay $3.75 for a PBR? I just paid $3.75 for a PBR. (RB)

Crystal Ballroom, 9:05 pm
Both Ted Leo and his Pharmacists are on the far side of thirty, but they're performing like a group of fourteen-year-olds playing punk rock at their local grange hall. Their inter-song transitions are a thing of seamless wonder. Drummer Chris Wilson—a lanky, slo-eyed individual—has to be one of the most energetic drummers I've ever seen, despite appearing to be halfway asleep. (SD)

Crystal Ballroom, 9:09 pm.
Ted Leo plays “Where Have All the Rude Boys Gone.” The crowd starts to bounce around, as does the floor. I feel sea-sick. Do you think I can get my $3.75 back if I hurl? (RB)

Crystal Ballroom, 9:10 pm
Ted Leo to the resolutely non-moshing crowd: “You're a very polite audience. Almost unnervingly so.” (SD)

Crystal Ballroom, 9:14 pm
Ted Leo's drummer should enter a competition with the guy from Blitzen Trapper for to see whose facial hair could fix the oil leak faster. Seriously, that's a lotta furr. (MM)

Crystal Ballroom, 9:20 pm.
I can't believe Ted Leo is almost 40 years old. He not only looks and sounds great (well, as great as he can given the greasy, muddled sound at the Crystal), but he is bursting with kinetic energy. Dude's got some moves, too. Also, I can't believe woolly drummer Chris Wilson isn't from Portland; he's sure got the facial hair for it. (RR)

Crystal Ballroom, 9:20 pm.
The Crystal Balloom is now effectively just one giant bouncy castle. Stop the ride, mummy, I want to get off. (RB)

Berbati's Pan, 9:33 pm
Mbilly, looking like an un-hilarious version of Flight of the Conchords' Jemaine Clement, somehow makes Cheap Trick's obnoxiously infectious karaoke hit “I Want You to Want Me” more obnoxious by reimagining it as an emo song. (APK)

Crystal Ballroom, 9:40 pm
Glad we grabbed a seat up in the balcony. This is the most packed I've ever seen the Crystal, and I wouldn't have been able to see a thing (let alone Ted Leo's on-his-knees, against-the-amp guitar shredding) if we had stayed downstairs. I seem to always attract Danny Seim-sized dudes who need to stand right in front of me. (RR)

Crystal Ballroom, 9:45 pm
I was literally just thinking, “Y'know, at their best, the Bouncing Souls might be better than Ted Leo -- at least they do Misfits covers.” Then Leo goes ahead and plays “Angelfuck.” So confused now. (MPS)

Crystal Ballroom, 9:51 pm
Theodore Leo introduces himself as such, and expresses his pleasure at playing with the Thermals: “I hope we can stop these one-offs someday and fucking get together on tour.” Aw... Ted wants a committed relationship! (AM)

Ted Leo (Jared Eberhardt)

Dante's, 10:05 pm
My plans to see Mr. Leo a second time were thwarted by an amazing meal and glasses of wine at my sister's restaurant. But I rouse myself in time to make it downtown and to hear the sweetest pre-show dedication from the leader of a sludge metal band (in this case, Rabbits). “I want to start off by saying ‘Happy Birthday' to my mom. She's right there.” The woman he points to spends the show giddily taking pictures on her digital camera. I wonder how she feels about his self-appointed moniker (in this case, Booze)? (RH)

Dante's, 10:05 pm
Rabbits is the second band I've seen tonight to feature two guitars and no bass player. And once again the sound guy is apparently trying to compensate because the trio's sludgy metal has enough low-end to rattle my pant legs. True to its fashion, Rabbits performs like it's wounded, angry, and cornered. (SD)

Roseland, 10:12 pm
“I SEE AZZ OVER HERE, AZZ OVER THERE-A!” yells Big Freedia, lookin' like a cross between Salt-N-Pepa circa 1987's “Push It” video and True Blood's gaytastic short order cook Lafayette. The queen of Bounce music and lover of all things ass-related cajoles a sweaty cadre of on-stage volunteers to bounce their booties harder before twisting around and unleashing a titanic spin cycle of ass shake of her own on the Roseland. (KC)

Roseland, 10:15 pm
Ass. It's everywhere at Roseland. But it's mostly on stage during Big Freedia's set, as the king queen of the gay-centric underground curio known as “sissy bounce” has got a cavalcade of women shaking their butts up there with her. Seriously, this is one of the better hip-hop-ish sets I've seen in a while, but Freedia needs to get a better choice of backup skanks -- it's like she walked across the street into the bathroom at Cabaret and pulled a stripper out of the stall mid-line. (MPS)

Big Freedia (Leah Nash)

Crystal Ballroom, 10:30 pm
The Thermals hit the stage to a rapturous response after what seems like an eternal set-change. Kathy is high-fiving all the kids in the front row. The band kicks things off with “Here's Your Future,” and all the under-21ers are clapping in time from the opening notes. The only person who seems more stoked to be here than them is drummer Westin Glass. (RR)

Crystal Ballroom, 10:32 pm
The Thermals open with "Here's Your Future" and Westin looks like a God behind the kit. That's one helluva drum riser! (MM)

Crystal Ballroom, 10:35 pm
I love when Hutch stops playing guitar and dances with his hands. It looks like indie rock roof-raising. (RR)

Crystal Ballroom, 10:40 pm
Has anyone ever previously noted that Hutch Harris enunciates live lyrics with exceptional clarity? Probably. (AM)

Outside Dante's, 10:40 pm
Rabbits finish their set and a good ninety-five percent of the crowd heads immediately to the sidewalk for a cigarette, thereby earning my “Least Health-Conscience Audience” award for this evening. Kudos, guys.

Crystal Ballroom, 10:40 pm
Loving my first Thermals gig. But then, I'm predisposed to enjoy any band with a female bass player. I think this chick is my new favourite bass player. Sorry, Kim Deal. We can still be friends. A guy in a Ramones t-shirt waves his fist angrily at the stage and shouts, “Ted Leo rip-off! TED LEO RIP-OFF!” and storms out of the room. (RB)

Crystal Ballroom, 10:45 pm
By the time I huff and puff my way upstairs, the Thermals are deep into an exploration of the slow burners from the new album, which, unfortunately, are as drab live as on record. Kathy still has the best haircut in Portland, though. (CS)

Crystal Ballroom, 10:46 pm
Damn, "I Don't Believe You" is really impressing me right now. It has taken a long time for the Thermals to play a song this slow and dance-pop, but I think they're pulling it off. Sexy disco Thermals? I'm 'bout it.

Crystal Ballroom, 10:49 pm
Six songs into the Thermals' set and we get a real oldie, “It's Trivia,” from the band's 2003 debut. It's funny to think that most of the kids who are going nuts in the underage section of the ballroom, counting along with the song's “4, 3, 2, 1” refrain, were probably in grade school when this song was first out. (RR)


Crystal Ballroom, 10:38 pm
After Panda Bear put everyone into a sleepy trance last night, it's refreshing to feel the ball bearings at the Crystal getting a workout from The Thermals' bouncing rock. Fuck, this must be what the architects imagined when they installed this floor. (APK)

Major Lazer (Leah Nash)

Roseland Theater, 10:55 pm
I have never seen the Roseland this raucous and riled up before. And there isn't even a band on stage. The crowd chatter is ear-splitting and the mix of pheromones and hormones in the air is making me dizzy. This place is going to explode once Major Lazer hits the stage. (RH)

Crystal Ballroom, 11:00 pm
Never thought this would happen: I am leaving a Thermals show mid-set. I tell myself it's because I'm really excited about Red Fang, which should be starting now, but I have to be honest: I'm simply bored. (CS)

Doug Fir, 11:00 pm
They run a tight ship at the Doug Fir. Rocky Votolato starts his set at eleven p.m. exactly, quelling the idle chattering of the attending crowd. He performs with only a drummer by way of backup, though I enjoy the harmonica flourishes. (SD)

Roseland Theater, 11:05 pm
As expected, a Matrix Reloaded-style rave is in full effect. Lots of groping, grinding, and simulated sex. And that's just from Skerrit Bwoy and the curvy female dancer he has on stage with him. DJ Diplo eggs them and the capacity crowd on with a mix of dirty beats, piercing highs, and intestine-rumbling lows. It's all build-up and climax; no cuddling or foreplay. (RH)

Roseland Theater, 11:12 pm
Walked into Major Lazor and immediately an entire beer is dumped on me from the balcony. Party! My hair already smelled like beer anyway. At least it isn't vomit. (MM)

Dante's, 11:14 pm
I expected mullets at the Red Fang show, and I got mullets. What I did not anticipate was the number of beer bellies, and their girth. Walking into Dante's, I was, for a terrible instant, physically pinned between two of these bellies. John Lennon was wrong: These men are the walruses. (AM)

Crystal Ballroom, 11:15 pm
I love how excited the Thermals' drummer is about the bands' own songs. He cheers and sings along and pumps his fists in the air with genuine excitement, like, “Oh my god! They're playing my favorite song!” (RB)

Roseland, 11:15 pm
This is like a stripped-down version of the Major Lazer show I saw at Coachella. No DJ Switch (just Diplo), no Chinese dragons and, sadly, no lazers. Somehow, though, the crew manages to overstimulated my senses on sexual energy and loud noises alone. (MPS)

Dante's, 11:15 pm
There are many huge hair-farmers here. I am very short. So although I can hear Red Fang--and Red Fang sounds great--I have to watch Red Fang on a monitor that lags behind the sound by about half a second. I'm disoriented. I stare at Aaron Mesh's mustache and feel grounded again. I wish I was a little bit taller. (CS)

Crystal Ballroom, 11:20 pm
I totally wanted to be at Roseland for Major Lazer by now, but how can I leave when the Thermals are delivering a searing version of “When I Was Afraid”? (RR)

Dante's, 11:22 pm
If the downtown tallboy ban goes through, Red Fang fans will be the first to suffer. There is much double-fisting of PBR cans here; one man with meaty paws is attempting the rarely seen, treacherous double-double-fisting maneuver. Meanwhile, the band is so loud you can hear their riffs quite clearly from the front door of Berbati's Pan. (AM)

Ash Street Saloon, 11:22 pm
Garotas Suecas, the six-piece Brazilian Brit-pop-Carnivale-rock-funk explosion, has proven a long-standing theory--I will never be as sexy as a Brazilian rock star. But anyone can be pimpilicious at a Brazilian Brit-pop-Carnivale-rock-funk explosion show. This group is going to blow up real fast, and all anyone at Ash Street can do is sweat, dance and succumb to the kinetic energy. This is the best show so far that hasn't sold out. (APK)

Roseland, 11:24 pm
There are ladies in the men's restroom! They're not supposed to be in there, ‘cause it's the men's restroom, as they are told repeatedly by two overly heated security guards who nearly kick down the door to the stall to get them out. Hey, guys, kids are literally fucking on the dancefloor out there. Maybe you should be a bit more concerned about that. (MPS)

Roseland, 11:25 pm
Mark Zusman is freak dancing to Major Lazer. I've never been more scared in my whole life. Ever. Also, the Roseland is one giant, sweaty, orgy. I probably just got an STD from breathing the air. (MM)

Crystal Ballroom, 11:25 pm
The Thermals close out their set with “Pillar Of Salt.” The biggest cheers of the night were reserved for songs from 2006's The Body, The Blood, The Machine. I get the feeling that, no matter what else the Thermals do in their career, this is the album they will always be remembered for. (RR)

Dante's, 11: 25 pm
A rotund gentleman the size of a small mountain shoves Aaron Mesh. Aaron Mesh does not shove back. I want to defend Aaron Mesh's honor, but then I remember I am a small man in a button-down shirt surrounded by sweaty cavemen with mallets for hands. Sorry Aaron Mesh. (CS)

Crystal Ballroom, 11:38
Thermals encore. They play Weezer's “My Name is Jonas,” which is nice, even though we all knew it was coming because CASEY JARMAN SPOILED THE SURPRISE FOR EVERYONE BY BLOGGING ABOUT IT BEFOREHAND ON LOCAL CUT. Thanks Casey, you ruined Christmas. The two pre-teen boys in front of us go nuts. I'd like to think it's because they're massive Weezer fans, but I know it's just because this song was on Guitar Hero III. Because I can shred it on expert, thankyouverymuch. (RB)

Crystal Ballroom, 11:40 pm
Holy shit! The Thermals return to the stage for a huge-sounding, pitch-perfect cover of Weezer's “My Name Is Jonas.” The floors of the Crystal are shaking as everyone bounces up and down. I can't see anyone who isn't grinning broadly and singing along loudly. As karaoke bars always prove, Blue Album Weezer seems to be the rallying cry for a generation. (RR)

"My Name is Jonas" backed with "No Culture Icons" is maybe the finest two-song encore I've ever heard in my life. I can't stop smiling...and bouncing. (CJ)

Roseland, 11:45 pm
It smells like sweat and beer and underage sex in here. So it basically smells like my bedroom circa 1996, except with beer and underage sex instead of acne medication and underage masturbation. Major Lazer is doing stuff that does not sound as exciting as it looks. (CS)

Roseland, 11:50 pm
Skerrit Bwoy just brought out a ladder. Either he's going to fight Razor Ramon for the Intercontinental Title, or he's going to climb to the top rung, pull his pants down, leap off and land between the spread legs of the backup dancer and start furiously dry-humping her. Turns out it's the latter. I'm pretty sure that's illegal. (MPS)

Berbati's Pan, 11:50 pm
I already have a favorite MusicfestNW 2010 discovery: Frank Turner. I dropped by Berbati's expecting to keep moseying across the river; Turner dragged me in with a cover of “Thunder Road” and kept me planted with throaty, grinning exuberance. A pal described him as late-period Joe Strummer mixed with Billy Bragg, and that's accurate enough, but I'd add that if the Proclaimers were a one-man acoustic band, that band would be named Frank Turner. He ends his set by making “Photosynthesis” a real sing-along song, the let's-learn-the-lyrics-together, Pete Seeger-goes-to-summer-camp kind, asking, “Would everybody here--and I do mean everybody--like to join my band?” I'm in. (AM)

Frank Turner (Inger Klekacz)

Roseland, 11:47 pm
Major Lazer just sampled Bob Marley. More alarmingly, I'm pretty sure the dude next to me who was just grinding on two women accidentally brushed his boner against me when he walked by. Does that warrant a beer? (APK)

Roseland, 12:00 am
A man with an artfully designed beard is doing lonesome rave dances behind me. A man next to him is trying and failing to remove his shirt. The crowd is dancing while watching Major Lazer dance and watch the crowd. Everyone here is on drugs, and I feel like I'm watching someone play a videogame with obscure rules and a terrible soundtrack. It is time to go home. (CS)

Roseland, 12:00 am
It's too bad my torn ACL is keeping me from fulfilling my lifelong dream of dancing onstage at the Roseland with my shirt off. 2011? (MM)

Berbati's Pan, 12:02 am
Not sure what other clubs around town have bathroom attendants, but Leo can be found at Berbati's in the men's room. He's quick with your paper towels and provides licorice, cigarettes, lollipops, cigars, tootsi rolls, collogne, condoms, gummi worms, hair gel and more... (BEN MOLLICA)

Berbati's, 12:05 am
Going from the chaos of Major Lazer to the down-home good-naturedness of Justin Townes Earle is just too big of a musical culture shock for my system. I need to go someplace. A place where the ass is...everywhere. (MPS)

The Bellrays (Leah Nash)

Ash St. Saloon, 12:10 am
Stick my head in the door of the Ash St. Saloon. The Bellrays are going hard. The crowd, not so much. I ditch this gang of sad-sacks for Justin Townes Earle, who is playing at Berbati's around the corner to a far more fun-loving crowd. (RB)

Dante's, 12:10 am
My brother-in-law was lamenting the death of speed and thrash metal earlier in the evening. And while I partially agree, I think the number of doom and prog hybrid groups that have come in their wake are worthy successors to the crown. Case in point: the mighty Baroness. They are skilled enough to throw quotes from Hendrix's “Machine Gun” into their soupy morass, but heavy enough for the headbangers. (RH)

Doug Fir, 12:12 am
Frank Turner was a pearl-snap show; David Bazan is a flannel show. This is an empirical observation of the crowd's wardrobe choices, but it also describes their music pretty well, if you don't me me saying. Seriously: This should be the format for near year's MFNW guidebook. I would make all my itinerary decisions based on this formula. (AM)

Doug Fir, 12:25 am
“Do you have any questions at this point in the show?” asks Bazan, upholding one of my cherished Pedro the Lion traditions. He is, if possible, even more mournful than usual tonight. But he's playing the guitar real dirty. (AM)

Ash St. Saloon, 12:35 pm
My new dream double-bill is now Sharon Jones & The Dap-Kings and ‘70s fuzz/garage/soul powerhouse quartet The Bellrays. Could any venue withstand the power of Ms. Jones and lead ‘ray Lisa Kekaula belting their respective hearts out in tandem? Someday, I hope to be able to answer to that. (RH)

Doug Fir, 12:50 am
David Bazan is changing lyrics. "Corporate cum" becomes "bubblegum" and "I still believe" becomes "I don't believe." You've gotta love the fact that he won't sing a song he doesn't feel anymore, at least without making some serious adjustments. For awhile in the mid-aughts, he wouldn't sing "Jesus." If you know anything about his catalogue, you realize that this is problematic. So the word "Jeebus" really stood out. (CJ)

Justin Townes Earle (Inger Klekacz)

Berbati's, 12:47 am
Justin Townes Earle covers the Replacement's “Can't Hardly Wait”. My heart melts. God, I'm so easy. And he has a female bass player. AND she's playing an upright bass. IN HIGH HEELS. Swoon. (RB)

Doug Fir, 1:01 am
After playing a hook-heated rendition of one of the best tracks from his Pedro back catalogue, “When They Really Get to Know You They Will Run,” Bazan explains that he was up all last night packing for a six-week tour. “Y'all be real quiet after the show, ‘cause we're going to sleep up here,” he says, pointing to the Jupiter Hotel above. “We'll call the cops.” (AM)

Sassy's, 1:25 am
Ah, yes. You literally cannot escape the ass in here. Which makes it the perfect place for Big Freedia to film a performance for Into the Woods. She's making it rain as about a half-dozen strippers gyrate around her. The place is packed, the booty bass is bumpin', and I don't think there's a more definitively Portland moment than this. And it's Thursday, by the way. (MPS)

Magic Gardens, 1:33 am
How did my night end up watching girls take their clothes off to Okkervil River and buying gin from a woman old enough to be my grandmother? (RB)

East End, 1:45 am
It's billed as a Black Lips Dance Party, but no one is dancing except a few of my friends...and they're all getting dirty looks for it by their fellow patrons (the Lips seem happy about it, at least). This is weird and I wanna go home. Good music, though! (CJ)

Voodoo Doughnuts, 2:33 am

My house, 2:38 am
I'm locked out, and the girlfriend isn't answering her phone. This is bad, right? This is bad. Two options left: Dragging myself to the after-the-after-party or sleeping at the Executive Lodge. I walk around the hood for 20 minutes deciding, and she answers the 16th time I call. Thank God. (CJ)

Baroness (Andy Wright)

Check in tomorrow for more MFNW Diary goodness! (First photo by Andy Wright)
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