The Musicfest Diaries

[September 10th, 2003] The "official" end of the third annual MusicfestNW may have been when the beer ran dry at the afterparty early Sunday morning, but the real ending came later. For three nights, more than 200 acts burned up the stages of 20 Portland clubs, while thousands of music fans heated up the asphalt running from one club to the next. By Sunday afternoon, the city was still cookin' with festival energy. Then everybody woke up, the clouds rolled in and the first fat plops of rain fell to the ground, cooling down our town and marking a return to a somewhat hungover normalcy. But, don't let the good times be forgotten. Here are a few of our favorite MusicfestNW 2003 moments. (MB)THURSDAY

9:10 PM

The Black Peppercorns * Nocturnal

The lead singer for the Black Peppercorns has a wail on. "First-aid kit," Io Fortier-Kuttner screams. "I need a fix." The 10-year-old is joined by her drummer and 9-year-old sister, Zayna Langer. It might be easy to dismiss the Black Peppercorns just as cute kids, but you can see how serious they are about their music during their eight-song set. When they lose the beat on one of their new songs, Jason Kuttner, father and manager, suggests moving on. But Io doesn't want to. "I really like that out-tro," she says. "Yeah," her sister explains to the crowd. "It's the same as the intro, except backwards." And the beat goes on. (EF)

9: 30 PM

E*Rock * Fez

MusicfestNW starts off with a whimper, but what a glorious whimper it is. E*Rock, the Portland duo, shows up half an hour late for its set but makes up for it with shimmering electronic neo-shoegazer stylings. Colleen French plays single guitar lines and flute melodies and sings through effects pedals and a laptop manned by E*Rock, the man. He records and loops the tracks on top of one another, creating a startling wall of sound the likes of which two people have never produced. (GL)

11 PM

Anna Oxygen * Berbati's Pan

With the perky enthusiasm of an honor-roll cheerleader delivering her big class project, Anna Oxygen takes the stage all by her lonesome. Gamely offering elliptical between-song banter, bopping about as she sings along to prerecorded tracks, projecting an assortment of abstract and found-art slides behind her, she presents herself as the star of her own private universe, and invites us all to take a step in. One pair of Gossip groupies take the invitation literally, finding themselves instantly onstage and choreographed into Oxygen's music-video dream world. (JR)

11:40 PM

Blackalicious * Crystal Ballroom

As always, Blackalicious emcee Gift of Gab looks laid-back but rhymes intensely. Stopping halfway through the set to freestyle, Gab, backed by trusty sidekick Chief Xcel, works the massive crowd. The rhymes come like a blitzkrieg and, often, the duo's didactic lyricism is lost to the rapid-fire delivery. But not to worry, this is a party crowd, and Blackalicious rocks the body with its bumping rhythms and rhymes at a blur. High-school kids and 9 to 5-ers alike are feeling the love as Blackalicious plays through the night, allowing everybody to forget about what the morning has in store. (GL)

1:35 AM

Thor * Dante's

Through the door at Dante's, it's possible to see a leather-clad Thor lumbering onstage, belting out Led Zeppelin's "Immigrant Song," a young drunk man pumping his chair over his head, and a member of security diving into the crowd to subdue the culprit. And that 20 seconds holds enough action for an entire night. (MB)FRIDAY

9 PM

The Natrons * Dante's

With a guitar from hell and boots to match, Nathan Fasold and his Natrons unlock the blues casket at Dante's. The band features the world's most impassive female guitarist. She's great and they're great, calling upon the spirit of George Thorogood during their electric blues set. (ZD)

10 PM

Blue Skies for Black Hearts * Ash Street

There's celebration in the air. Blue Skies is playing perhaps its most energetic set of low-fi, power-packed indie pop to date. This band is meant to be heard live. The Ash Street's main room is packed--good luck getting close enough to the stage to witness the band's (and Miss Managed head honcho Ratch Aronica's) return to rock. (KC)

Mark Growden * Jimmy Mak's

Growden rolls into town like a one-man army armed with an accordion, saxophone, banjo, an arsenal of guitars, and a take-no-prisoners attitude, lighting a fire under the ass of Portland. With his unique blend of musical styles and influences, the Oaklander comes across like Tom Waits on crank. Along with acts like Vagabond Opera, Growden helps give MFNW a much-needed sense of musical diversity. (DW)

11:20 PM

Sugar Free * Kelly's Olympian

A stop at Kelly's Olympian finds female rock trio Sugar Free hard at work, pounding out menacing punk in full form and at maximum loudness. Occasionally, video poker-ists emerge from their back room for a peek at the action (or maybe just singer Karamy Muessig's sexy black-rubber go-go outfit). In the bathroom, I spy the mom to grade-school rockers Black Peppercorns. Something tells me there's more madness to come. (KC)

MIDNIGHT

Dear John Letters * Ash Street

What's this? Unbridled enthusiasm! Guitar geeks! Beatle-mania! The lead singer of Dear John Letters is bobbing his head at the microphone like he's McCartney at the 1969 Apple rooftop concert; the lead guitarist is planting his feet and bowing his head to the Gibson SG gods. The band is playing like it's their last gig, sweating like maniacs. In the middle of this pop-rock hurricane, Dear John Letters brave ambitious (and unlikely) solos and never once hit a wrong note. I think of the Shins, but then for some reason I can't stop thinking about Trey Anastasio and his Pavement fixation. Are Dear John Letters a jam-band disguising themselves as super-smart popsters? All I know is I'm walking out of the Ash Street with a crush on a new band and a curious fixation with Track 4 ("Sorry to Sorry") from the band's latest, Stories of Our Lives. (CT)

Jenna Mammina * Fez Ballroom

"I fell in love with you the first time I looked into them there eyes," is how Jenna Mammina begins. No foreplay in her ecstatic set, just "I-had-you-at-hello" consummation. She's a jazz vocalist who covers pop songs or a pop chanteuse who sings jazz. It doesn't matter how you describe that warm voice, just sink back into the soft pillows of the sofas at the Fez Ballroom to appreciate a mix of the complicated wit of Elvis Costello and the syncopated charm of a grown-up Norah Jones. Mammina's voice sparkles on the high notes, then drops to a throaty growl of melted chocolate on the low notes, claiming her covers in the distinctive way she recites lyrics over the jazz phrasing of Robin Lewis' guitar. Accompanied by Portland's own Dan Balmer, she performs a heartbreaking rendition of Warren Zevon's "Accidentally Like a Martyr." Two days later, the song will still resonate when Zevon passes away at his home in Los Angeles. (EF)

12:22 AM

Megababe * Dante's

Tokyo's female punk trio Megababe arrests the middle of their sweaty midnight set to give love to their homeland sorority sisters, Puffy Ami Yumi--and cover one of their songs. Will Megababe switch gears and bag their frantic riffs and manic drumming for an Ami Yumi, ABBA-inspired pop number? Of course not--this heavy-metal treatment screams with trademark 'Babe power. Next up: The girls cover the Beastie Boys' "Fight for Your Right," that debaucherous ode to getting wasted, with such ferocity that they make the Boys look like a bunch of teetotaling wimps. When they're finished, the trio bows and curtsies and reads notes of thanks in broken English from napkins. (KC)

1:07 AM

Green Circles * Kelly's Olympian

Kelly's Olympian sounds great! Amazing! Really! The new ownership clearly splurged on speakers and whatnot during the club's recent renovation, but what really makes the difference is the sudden, baffling ceiling-installation of motorcycles and motorcycle equipment and motorcycle signs. Evidently the road gear creates "natural" soundbreaks that filter a loud, perfect clarity impossible for such a small space. But Green Circles don't need all that. Their peculiar blend of New Wave circa-'70s (Plimsouls, Gang of Four) and '80s (Joy Division, Echo and the Bunnymen) comfortably owns every sort of room--but something about a beautiful old bar expertly re-engineered to balance history with a weird, exciting personal vision seems to fit. (JH)

1:47 PM

Captured! By Robots * Dante's

What started out as novel amazement at the sheer mechanical spookiness of the Captured! By Robots band "members" has turned into a fierce battle between the humans and the robots. The cocky GTRBOT666 and its filthy-mouthed cohort DRMBOT 0110 have been berating lead man Jay Vance all night and have now turned on the crowd. The robots and the drunken rabble exchange insults. Robots call the humans "Cock Suckers." The humans reply with fleshy middle digits thrust into the sky. Vance escapes the stage to commune with his brothers and sisters in the sea of humanity, and the robots play a down-and-dirty funk number. Has an agreement been reached, or is it just a clever robot trick? (MB)SATURDAY

9 PM

Johnathan Rice * BridgePort Heritage Room

Johnathan Rice is flipping off the table in the back of the room. "You're drowning me out," he pleads, not so sweetly, in his Scottish tongue. Rice has the baby-faced look of adolescence, but his moody, intense stage presence suggests a life fractured by more than a recent ass-kick out of high school. Either that, or the boy's been given a damn good schooling in the art of storytelling and the Great Folk Song. His power vocals frequently drown out the deep resonance of his cutaway acoustic Gibson guitar. At his best, Rice's spooky narratives recall Nick Drake; at his worst, the young songwriter falls into a squeaky-clean sound, the formulaic FM-radio-friendly emo-masturbation dirtying the airwaves these days. (CT)

Jackie * Kelly's Olympian

There's nothing quite like watching Jackie smoke while playing its hipster-friendly rock. Keyboardist Jennifer Fang in particular seems to chain-smoke throughout the entire set, playing with only one hand and adding to the band's already tremendous affectation. The band shows its Brit-pop influences more now than ever before, the music having transformed into an ultra-effete love child of Mick Jagger and Pulp. The droning first song sounds wholly unlike the band's signature I-can't-believe-they're-not-the-Rolling-Stones sound. Then comes the middle ground, which proves that even the supercool have room for growth. (GL)

10 PM

Clampitt, Gaddis & Buck * Ash Street

The floor is slick with alcohol and godknowswhat (note to self: never wear flip-flops to MusicfestNW). Behind the merch table it's 1986: Heavy-metal Mötley Crüe look-alikes (bandanas, white shoulder-length hair, dark eyeliner) stare up at the stage, puzzled. Onstage, a three-piece acoustic outfit, Clampitt, Gaddis & Buck, recreates a sweet and earnest bluegrass sound, shared microphones and all. And somehow, the pitch-perfect Americana seems right at home in this debaucherous pit. The trio sports tattoos and rock-concert T-shirts, belts out traditional tunes ("Roll in my Sweet Baby's Arms," "High Lonesome Sound") and essentially sounds like what they are: three kids, born in the 1970s, discovering folk tunes in rock clubs. The crowd yee-haws, the butt-rockers scratch their heads. (CT)

10:19 PM

Storm and the Balls * Roseland Theater

Dressed in a clingy red cocktail dress and a pair of up-to-her-elbows shiny black rubber gloves, PDX's ultimate lounge diva, Storm, takes command of the stage. She's known for her sultry renditions of songs from the rock canon. We know this much. But "The Star Spangled Banner"? Oh yes, she did. She's one part sex kitten (think Marilyn Monroe's infamous birthday ode to JFK) and two parts Marilyn Manson, spastic and scary. At this moment, Storm and her backing band, the Balls, turn from lounge lizards to scream-o rockers--Francis Scott Key be damned. And then, things go quiet for a moment while the band ushers in a mash-up version of Curtis Mayfield's "Pusherman." Mayfield's soulman stylings are replaced by Storm's electric wail. (KC)

11:30 PM

On the street

Sometimes the best thing about a multi-venue festival isn't what's onstage, it's the cavalcade of characters filling the streets. And, unlike during most downtown weekends, there's more than just the suburban cologne drones and their hobbling high-heeled dates. Proof? There have been not one, not two, but three sidewalk performances in the last hour, when the Upside Downs, Solo Dos en Tijuana and a clowny, cacophonous mass of brassy horn players, stiltwalkers and dancers known as March Fourth took over the blocks between Southwest Ash and Ankeny streets. (JG)

MIDNIGHT

Carla Bozulich * Dante's

Carla Bozulich's Geraldine Fibbers bandmate Nels Cline is not, as advertised, backing her up for this rendition of songs from Willie Nelson's Red Headed Stranger, but it doesn't matter a bit. Replacing Cline is San Francisco guitarist Eric McFadden. No offense, but the fact that he is no Nels Cline is actually a good thing. Performing with McFadden and, at times, solo, Bozulich's captivating voice takes center stage. Even Willie Nelson never sounded quite so heartbreaking. (GL)

Jesse Harris * BridgePort Heritage Room

Norah Jones' Grammy-winning songwriter and former guitarist, Jesse Harris, is playing to a couple dozen souls. Performing with Tim Luntzel on double bass, Harris doesn't let the sparse crowd keep him from a moment of diva-worthy behavior--he stops midsong early on to pointedly encourage a departing bachelorette party crowd, whose volume is increasing with their proximity to the exit, to "just leave, already!" Except for one tune from his most recent CD, Harris' set is all-new material, rich with inventive chord structures and simple, expressive language--the stuff of classic songwriting, minted afresh. (JR)

12:20 AM

25 Suaves * Stumptown Coffee

25 Suaves are toppling fearsome continent-sized towers of raw, hateful guitar noise and drum torque on a dozen eager people in the Stumptown echo chamber. (ZD)

12:43 AM

Tracker * Tonic

After two songs of instrumental melancholia, Tracker leader and FILMguerrero head John Askew finally breaks in with vocals and surprises at least one of the Tonic-dwellers with his earthy tone. The instrumentation continues to slide and lope with intricate rolling baselines and soft touches on the drums. If the vocals fall out, the music will still be beautiful. If the instruments drop out, it will still be chilling. (MB)

1:55 AM

Black Angel * Jimmy Mak's

In the end, after three days of nonstop schmoozing, club hopping and music appreciation, only five out of a club full of people are sitting down as Black Angel dances MusicfestNW '03 into history. It's a perfect ending: This venerable soul band, led by salt-and-pepper duo J.R. Pella and Tahoe Jackson, takes turns rousing a packed, though sleepy, crowd with their commanding vocals. The songs--from their own brand of funkified soul to Stevie Wonder classics--increase in intensity, and the crowd moves from their seats and into an excited groove. (KC)

3:13 AM

Afterparty * Southeast 10th and Pine

MusicfestNW ends with sustained, mewling entreaties from the drunken throngs to the large and unconcerned men barring the doors of the MFNW afterparty. Inside, Telephone swaggers a stylish rock, teasing well-chosen covers with indie gloss. The weaving crowds of artists and fans slosh toasts to the breadth and vibrancy and guarded intimacy of Portland music--thriving and expanding even as clubs disappear and treasured bands break apart. Ambient DJs mingle with punks and careerist folkies and instrumental metalists. Everyone, however fashionably sullen, agrees that Portland's a pretty decent place to live and play, that even a dead La Luna remains the best venue in the Northwest and that, looking around the room, MusicfestNW is worthy and needed. (JH)