Rothbury Festival Day 4: Love and Friendship

by Dave "Scout" Tafoya

Day 4 of my Rothbury excursion, my final day at this strange bubble, was a good one indeed. I met my friend Eric from the Sam Roberts Band for coffee, and we took in The Ragbirds (who played Ren-Fest Folk Jams) and The Hard Lessons (who sounded like a Lita Ford cover band). He took me back and I said hello to the rest of the band and Sam and I got to take in a little of Toots and the Maytals before his band was slated to begin.

Toots and the Maytals still rocking steady

That's the biggest problem with a festival like this: they save the best set times for the jam bands everybody paid to see. The Dead, Umphrey's McGee, String Cheese Incident, Willie Nelson and Bob Dylan were all competition free. The little guys like Sam, Parlor Mob, Broken Social Scene and Guster had to fight each other for audiences. I missed Guster and White Buffalo for other bands, which was a bummer to say the least.

Sam Roberts

The Sam Roberts Band is a live act not to be missed. I've seen them once before, in Vermont and they once tried to sneak me into a club in Boston. In other words, unfailingly nice guys and their music is just an extension of that. Sam and his band were one of the few straight-up rock acts all weekend, and they really killed it. Moving from song to song with incredible energy, they took advantage of every minute of their set.

James Hall, bass player of the Sam Roberts Band

When they arrived at the end and put on a 15 minute version of "Mind Flood," their most psychedelic song off their second record, Chemical City, I was floored. They threw themselves into their playing so much, a bomb could have gone off next to them and they'd never notice.

Eric Fares, Sam Roberts' keyboard player and a hell of a guy

In fact, the only band that matched their sheer brute force was Parlor Mob

Nick Villapiano of Parlor Mob

Their riff-tastic rock music is blisteringly loud and the guys on stage play the parts of rock gods remarkably well. One look at guitarists Paul Ritchie and Dave Rosen could convince anyone that these guys mean business.

Parlor Mob looking and sounding like the best of the early 70s

Laceless boots, torn up jeans, flying hair, beat-up guitars, high kicks; I'd never seen anything quite like it in person. They rocked in ways that no one else could have that weekend and at a festival that professed commitment to old Grateful Dead show atmospherics, to see a band that lived that life was refreshing.

Parlor Mob's commitment to rock

When I left, halfway through Willie Nelson's set, it was harder than I imagined. I'd slept uncomfortably, gotten aches, pains, burns, and bites, waded through hoardes of people, smelled beer, sweat, portable toilets and marijuana and had to spend absurd amounts of money on hot food and cold drink. That kind of experience can weigh on you pretty heavily, especially if you'd never covered anything of this magnitude. Coachella was big and had more bands, but was not on such a big property. The reason I and everyone else did it was because we were all in it together. Everyone I met was keen to share stories or offer drugs (while I never actually accepted any, it was awfully kind of them to offer). The other press representatives were always looking to talk and drink to wile away the hours between bands. They looked after one another, just as the rest of the fans did. When you're lugging around thousands of dollars worth of equipment, or just looking to tune out, having someone you can trust is important and everybody was willing to be that someone. If everyone here didn't want to help each other and just be together with a lot of like minded individuals, then this kind of event would never work. It was touching to the utmost and as I walked out the door, I was overwhelmed by the love that made it all work. It was tough to go, but then again, it was good to get home to a shower and a real bed, too.

Rothbury Festival Day 3: Dancing

by Dave "Scout" Tafoya

Saturday was a bit less exciting, at least at first. I woke up and went to meet Wendy Darling, one of the little bands I was excited to see. They were happy that someone was coming to see them play - it was raining and they weren't exactly the biggest act on the bill. Most everyone was sleeping off the String Cheese Incident set which closed the night before.

Wendy Darling work...

Wendy Darling play a sort of rootsy alternative rock and they all looked remarkably hip, even in the humidity of the morning. I was able to catch them having a brief pre-set dance party, which felt pretty special. They did a great job and I got to commiserate with their bass player a little later in the day when everyone else (bands, attendees, press, small animals) had gone to see The Dead.

...as hard as they play

With Wendy Darling's set a distant memory, I took in

Zappa playing Zappa

I ran into Jo-Ann from Broken Social Scene as she was heading to see the Dead and wound up going along while I waited for MSTRKRFT to take the stage at midnight. Watching the fans of the Dead take drugs and get completely trashed in preparation for their set made a twisted sort of sense. If they had abstained from drugs or alcohol and simply listened to the music, perhaps they would have realized just how dull this band truly is in a live setting. But then, I wasn't there to criticize their lifestyle, so I genially nodded my head in time to the music for an hour or so, then went to get some "fresher" air.

MSTRs of house music

MSTRKRFT, the Toronto-based DJ duo, were next and let me preface this by saying that I don't typically go in for electronic music. It just doesn't click with me for whatever reason. But there have been times that I've found myself caught up in it when it's live. Once was at 2007 Coachella when I saw LCD Soundsystem; and it happened again when MSTRKRFT took the stage at Rothbury. As it was the Fourth of July, Rothbury organizers had been saving a round of fireworks for when The Dead finished their set, which they did, but they must have had some extra. When MSTRKRFT finally took the stage around 1:15 am, fireworks were blasting as the band opened with Jimi Hendrix's version of The Star Spangled Banner, segueing into a mind-blowing DJ set. Suddenly, the fact that I'd been standing all day in the hot sun just disappeared along with my sunburn pain, thirst, and worries. MSTRKRFT rocked from one song to the next, hopping about, twisting knobs, furiously smoking and drinking Crown Royal. They blazed through modern rock, hip-hop and great old soundbytes; I understood suddenly why someone might want to go clubbing. A lot of things became clear to me that day and I could think of no better band to open my mind with than MSTRKRFT. The entire crowd pulsed along with the music, covered from head-to-toe in Glowsticks. The day may have belonged to The Dead, but the night belonged to MSTRKRFT. The trek back to camp was particularly difficult that night after dancing like an idiot to their set. But I was totally and absolutely just fine.

Rothbury Festival Day 2: Reverence

by Dave "Scout" Tafoya

I woke up early the next morning in time for a mostly useless press orientation (I wasn't intent on taking pictures of Bob Dylan, after all), and then it was onto the bands. Man Man went on at 2:15 and wowed their admittedly small crowd. Playing antique keyboards and hopping like madmen, Man Man were most definitely the oddballs at the festival. Ryan Kattner, alias Honus Honus, put on his vampy stage act, looking like a man who's just found his cabaret-star grandmother's costume closet and dove in head first. The abrasiveness of their sound is a bit off putting but they're so engaging I couldn't take my eyes off them.

Honus Honus flaunts his wardrobe

Man Man are from Philadelphia (as am I) so I got to talk to them about the city for a bit. It felt normal for a moment, like I wasn't overwhelmed and they hadn't just walked off the second biggest stage in Michigan.

Man Man, Philadelphia's finest

Femi Kuti was next and it was an honor just watching him. On top of being the tallest performer all weekend, he was charismatic and a hell of a trumpet player.

Femi Kuti

Bright colors and elaborate stage moves on Kuti's backing band

Broken Social Scene are one of my all-time favorite bands. I've seen them three times now, each time with a different line-up. The core five members were there - Kevin Drew, Charles Spearin, Andrew Whiteman, Justin Peroff, Brendan Canning - and rounding out the line-up this time were Evan Cranley and the lovely Amy Milan from Stars, Jo-Ann Goldsmith on trumpet and spontaneous backing vocals, and a trumpet player I didn't recognize (but would learn more about shortly). 

Brendan Canning and Andrew Whiteman from Broken Social Scene tear it up.

After the show, I got to meet everyone thanks to Aaron Brody, their sprinting guitar tech and Apostle of Hustle tour manager. I also met Robin, their current tour manager, who was awesome and really one of the nicest people I met the whole time. She's also an incredibly talented photographer who manages a band called All Leather - a Jill of all trades, you could say.

Facial hair a requirement to be in Broken Social Scene

Kevin Drew

Chromeo weren't much. They play electronic music with a sort of playful edge, name checking Bobby Brown and that sort of thing. They were tight and the one fellow was a pretty excellent guitar player. But that kind of music, with 80s Casio keyboards and faux-hip hop delivery, just doesn't do it for me.

Chromeo's Dave 1

I met up for drinks with Broken Social Scene later, I got into quite a discussion with Canning, and he told me stories about the many bands he'd played with-It was amazing. How often do your heroes sit back on windy nights and tell you about their careers? He's lived an amazing life and that he was willing to tell me about it...it was so surreal. It was even harder to leave that night knowing what I was leaving behind.

I also got to talk to their trumpet player, the one I didn't recognize. His name was Brendan Benham and it turns out he's not from Canada or even in the band! Benham met the band at a previous show, and when he heard they would be coming to Rothbury, he got in touch with Drew and asked if they needed another horn player. They obliged and they taught Benham the songs the night before the show. How cool is that?

Rothbury Festival, Day 1: The Beginning

by Dave "Scout" Tafoya

13 hours is a long drive anywhere. But by yourself, through three states, with breaks only to get gas, and you're looking at one looong day. That's what my drive to Rothbury, MI was like for the Rothbury Festival. It takes determination (or maybe craziness) to do a thing like this alone but that's really all I and a lot of the other press people at Rothbury had, determination. With the exception of the few people who could afford the VIP packages, those who made the pilgrimage to Rothbury have to be called dedicated because it's in the middle of nowhere and the majority of the people I spoke to didn't come from Detroit, they were from Colorado, Los Angeles, New York, and Texas. But Rothbury’s press, bands and festival goers alike were lifers in terms of music. That’s why when they come together for events like this, there's a sort of synergy that makes the whole thing run. And that’s why I was thrilled to be there, even with a late arrival and an embarrassing amount of checkpoint confusion; it just didn’t matter.

Rothbury was unlike any other festival I've been to, one where the only thing keeping everybody sane was the sense of community. After getting my bearings, I wandered by Keller Williams and, though the production was cool, his music didn't really do it for me. He hopped around stage from one instrument to the next, running them through looping pedals, while bubbles and colorful lights and all kinds of other weird hippie stuff went on. Take away the millions of dollars worth of gimmicky stage show and anyone could do what he does. I left after about 15 minutes.

Night fell and I found the band Future Rock. This was my first taste of the downside and the upside of drug culture in the festival experience. Future Rock was good, playing electronic music with bass, drums, and keyboards, but all around, people were hardly paying attention. Glowsticks were wrapped around every finger, people danced, and a girl vomited while her friend unconcernedly held her hair. The dancers were blissfully tuned out to the specifics of the music and the band could literally have been anyone, thanks to the light and the incredibly loud PA system. But you know what? They were all in it together. That girl who got sick, she had a friend nearby. Everyone was of one mindset and suddenly Future Rock's music came into focus. And though we had different reasons, I, like everyone else present, had a great time.

Jonnie Russell and Matt Maust from Cold War Kids

The Cold War Kids set got pushed back to roughly 2 in the morning which made for a cool show. The fog machines were at full blast and the crowd was sleepy but the band made sure to end things on a solid note, pounding out a great 1:15 of rock.

Cold War Kids rock the socks off the nightowls

The band moves were dictated by jagged drums and razor-like guitar with the bass filling out the sound. Nathan Willett, the singer with an unrelenting wail, moved from piano to guitar and kept his odd Elvis-inspired dancing at a constant rate. Though there's no real soloing and Cold War Kids’ songs are simple, their rocking is relentless and they are one of the few acts with more distortion and grit than virtuosity, which I always like to see. Solid and somber rock makes for a lot of impassioned sing-alongs.

Nathan Willett, singer of Cold War Kids

Rothbury Festival 2009 Happening This Weekend

by Dave "Scout" Tafoya

The Rothbury Festival is this weekend and were it not for a few names, it could almost be called "Bonnaroo North." Sun and jam bands abound, but the reason I'm interested in covering the event is the little bands, the folk rockers with no marquee value. To make it to a festival like this on the bottom half of a bill that includes Bob Dylan and Willie Nelson is no small feat, and I'm curious to know who we'll look to for our smoldering acoustic indictments of society in the future. With a handful of Canadian indie rock bands and some little guys with big hearts, the festival promises to be one of unforgettably intimate performances, even to standing crowds of a few thousand people.

Some of my favorites include...

--2020 Soundsystem: Anglo-Argentine electro rock thats half Daft Punk and half Happy Mondays. They've been filling Europe with satisfied club-goers and have recently migrated to the states to see if their drug-addled magic is transcontinental.

--Underground Orchestra: Not your average jam band, pulling from the distortion heavy, latin-tinged tradition of bands like The Mars Volta, Underground Orchestra can play 20 minute songs. But unlike the competition, they fill every corner with something interesting and rarely rest on their laurels. They can shake up a groove and they know how to use it once its alive.

--White Buffalo: Jake Smith, White Buffalo's singer/songwriter, looks he fell out of a George Romero film and sings with a voice that suggests that Eddie Vedder and Robert Fisher had a secret lovechild. His achy ballads, southern bar rock and slow-burning arrangements break hearts and make fans daily.

--Wendy Darling: Led by singer Cori Rush, San Diego's Wendy Darling play sun-baked indie country like nobody's business. Rush, whose a little bit June Carter, a little Natalie Merchant, and a lot of attitude, sounds just as capable over lazy guitar arrangements and plucky country tunes. Endearing to say the least.

--Parlor Mob: If The Veils had listened to The Guess Who instead of Madchester bands, they might sound like Parlor Mob. Kickass blues rock a la Wolfmother (but with a touch more staying power, not to mention some killer guitar solos), Parlor Mob kick and scream like few other bands as youthful. There's some Led in there, some Allman Brothers, but mostly they're a rock band I don't feel bad about liking.

--Man Man: We now arrive at the hometown pride portion of this piece. Philadelphia's zany-as-all-get-out Man Man have been charming audiences and indie rock arbiters with their quirky, baroque indie music for three or four years now. There's gypsy jazz in there, there's archaic literary references, there's a feeling I can only describe as slapstick. A unique band to be sure.

--Guster: Boston-based Guster is the one thing that hippies and I tend to agree on. They like their laid back sound and pro-environmental stance; I like that their pop songs don't last for hours on end. One of the first bands that ever made an impression on me (their third album Lost & Gone Forever = 5th grade birthday present), I've seen them when they were small, and seen them now that they're big, and I'll keep seeing them just to see what directions they head. An infinitely capable live act, Guster ensures a good time is had, but I'll be stopping by to make sure they're still doing their best.

Cold War Kids: A California band that sounds less like Brian Wilson and more like they've spent the last ten years in the brig of a 17th century pirate ship, Cold War Kids' tortured, percussive rock sound caught my attention with their three now-forgotten EPs, more so than with their debut album, 2006's Robbers & Cowards. Everything, the guitar, the bass, even Nathan Willet's voice, resemble their jagged percussion sounds, and their live shows are triumphs of atmospherics and energy.

Sam Roberts: The closest thing we have to a modern day Dylan or Lennon, Sam Roberts has been preaching positivity and love in apocalyptic times for a few years now, and his mightily impressive band have made sure that he's at the proper decibel level to be heard. Old psych rock from an old soul with very modern angst, Roberts wants everyone to drop what they're doing and question whether our hatred is worth whatever its buying us now. And if that's too much, he's got this infectious rock music you might be interested in. (Read our review on his latest here)

--MSTRKRFT: One of the more prolific DJ teams working today, MSTRKRFT have touched everything from John Legend to the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. I missed their live set at Coachella a few years ago, but I'm hoping their pulsing electronic set will make up for the fact that Jesse Keeler's tenure in this band means Death From Above 1979 won't be making new records anymore.

--Broken Social Scene: If you've spoken to me about music in the last six years, chances are I've brought up Broken Social Scene. The Canadian indie collective that has featured everyone from Feist to Isaac Brock at some time or another, features some impressive guitar riffs, an effective use of 'noise', and lyrics that deal with social politcs more adeptly than just about any other band to date. The only band that can examine sexuality without artifice or pride and still end in a blistering guitar solo (or two...or three).

--Willie Nelson: After I saw Phosphorescent go to town on some of Willie's better tunes, I'd been dying to catch the old master live again to compare. I've seen Willie once before, but I was too drained and distracted to give him my full attention. That won't be the case this time around, I'll be sure of it.

--Toots and the Maytals: Reggae's living legends. If you don't know them, go buy as many early Maytals records as you can. While Damian Marley seems content to sink into hippie hip-hop oblivion, Toots, the old guard, stays true to reggae's transformative power after all these years. I've been a fan since I saw Perry Henzel's reggae film The Harder They Come when I was 11; to finally see them live will be an honor and a privilege.

--Femi Kuti: Fela's son, Femi captures that same group ethos and funky music for change that his father did so well, except without the extremist undercurrent. With slick production and massive stage presence, Femi's been charming stadium crowds with his unique afro-beat sound globally since 1991.

--Bob Dylan: It's Bob Dylan, do I need a reason? I know people who don't like him who'd still like to see him live. I'm not a committed fan or anything, but a legend is a legend.