Elliot Brood - picture taken by Mariella Villalobos (c) July 2006
Day two of Folk Fest was, basically, same procedural layout as the day before; things kicked off in the afternoon, though this time there were other acts in addition to the mainstage. For which, we all must thank whatever higher power is out there. O_o
This means, of course, that we tried to avoid the mainstage as much as possible, going out to watch
Elliot Brood's show at the Sunterra Stage, far on the distant fringes of reality. No kidding. O_o You had to walk across half the park, and under a bridge, and perform many arcane ceremonies of unusual nature in order to reach it. >.>
The show itself, however, was definitely worth it. Even if we missed most of "Second Son" due to the ridiculous nature of reaching the stage, the rest of the songs were just as wonderful to hear live. Though you won't find any crazy stage antics here, the boys of Elliot Brood play with a sort of straightforward earnestness that's both charming and endearing. Less desperation than I've seen in other bands, and while desperation is definitely something incendiary to watch onstage, the fact remains that these guys really don't need it. The music itself is, while not exactly laid back, a kind of dusty, solid presence that just seems to want to jam out, labels be damned. Plus, their drummer plays suitcases. SUITCASES. COME ON!
The mainstage itself, however, was a bit of a letdown in the way that...well...to be fair, we had just watched Feist and Broken Social Scene create magic there the evening before. By comparison, having
Bedouin Soundclash and
Macy Gray to look forward to is akin to eating at the most amazing restaurant ever, then being hauled off to eat at Earls the next day.
There were unexpected surprises, of course, like the previous day.
Robbie Fulks, for example, and
Jeff Healey's Jazz Wizards were actually quite enjoyable...though by far not the kind of music I usually listen to, I know when to surrender and admit that, yes, it doesn't have to be "rock" to kick ass. Though rock would kick
my ass to hear me say that. >.>
Also a surprise were the in-betweeners: especially
Kris Demeanor and
Chantal Vitalis. It was only later, however, that we would learn of just how decent these guys were...but that, of course, is another story. In the mean time, we just figured that, yeah, they weren't that bad...better than that unfunny comedian from the day before, anyway.
At this point, however,
Bedouin Soundclash took the stage; from our perch on the haunted/cursed picnic table near the gates (inside joke, don't ask), we listened and realized two things: one, DAMN they wish they were Bob Marley, and two, it's such a shame that they're the ones who wrote "When The Night Hears My Song". Though not a
bad band...well...personally, I just have to say that I find myself, once again, on the outside of understanging indie tastes. Here is a band that many people, friends of mine who have introduced me to WONDERFUL bands or whose opinion I usually highly respect, are crazy about...and I just can't see the attraction. It's like the flurry of attention around Gnarls Barkley, or the 'Fork's obsession with the Pipettes, or Liars. Sure, I understand that people like it...a LOT of people like it...but it just doesn't make sense to me the HUGE deal that is made about these artists. Every time you read something written about them, or see the overwhelming numbers of people tuning in, you get the impression that somewhere, someone thinks that these bands will save music from the jaws of oblivion.
As if they were all Spencer Krug, or something. Keh. >.>
In any case, the band finished playing...and we then proceeded to run out the gates as fast as the gravel road would permit. See, our location was a strategic one. Regardless, we almost didn't make it; the strains of Macy Grey seemed to chase us down, across the bridge and down into Eau Claire Market like the plague of dark locusts. You know...those ones that eat your soul.
I'm kidding, of course. That was a close one, though.
Next: Part 3, in which we meet Feist and Elliot Brood, and discover the evils of wisdom tooth removal.
