Wednesday, September 30th, 2009 - Day 1

'It Might Get Loud' screening - 7pm - Cinema du parc (3575 Parc). The history of the electric guitar as seen from the point of view of three significant musicians: Led Zeppelin's Jimmy Page, U2's The Edge and the White Stripes' Jack White.

"I want it to be a struggle" - jack white



Fashion Pop - 8:30pm - Espace Reunion (6600 Hutchison)
Six of Mtl's finest emerging fashion designers present a six look mini collection. Official Puces Pop launch party!

Alright, the live music...

Amy Millan - 10pm - Ukrainian Federation (5413 Hutchison)



the lady from 'stars' is playing an intimate church set.

Very inneresting is Bruce Peninsula - 11:30pm - Il Motore (179 Jean-Talon O.)

Matt & Kim - 12am - Club Lambi (4465 St-Laurent)



Jay Reatard - 12:30am - Sala Rossa (4848 St-Laurent)

Stick a Fork Innit

"Pitchfork...never heard of it. I like gangsta rap, cop killing gangsta rap. Alright... have a good time" with this uncomfortable admission from the buzz cut sportin', power hugging customs officer, myself, some peeps and our weapon of transport merge onto I-94 glaciering towards Chicago.

Hopping fancy along the aforementioned cities acquiesce architecture, feeling jazzed about VIP tickets to snag, adrenalin is stalled embracing the caterpillar envious shoelaced formation at the gate. With the talkie-talkies blarin, comedic relief summons as judging marshals organically decipher (in what is now the festival's ummth edition) that extra gate assistance and some fresh guest list prints may be yesterday wise. Impatience aside, we puddle through and find ourselves grasping weekend long complimentary 'Sparks' (dream of red bull spun thickly in vodka and orange crush) -$7 wallet pain at concessions- to accompany the less enticing 'Old Goose' sewer beer -$6 in festival grounds-.

How long to drive from Montreal to Chi-town...14 hours, how long till domesticated at the Pitchfork festival...1 minute. Now I like me a stand tall, independant festival headquartered by sonic bliss, but I also like a little internal audible signaled distraction to sidekick. Attractive as standing strong for six simultaneous hours of tunes appeals, it doesn't. Need to sway the goers off the diamond in the middle grounds, throw a bat, ball and some gloves out; initiate the alt-entertainment. Mind me, there stood a music orientated world record hub (be it most drum sticks held in one hand, most MJ tunes titled in 30 ticks while thrashing about on a pogo stick), years of show posters, and an army of arts n crafts. Yet, how quaint a distraction a mascot makes, an initiative or a scenic stroll. Rather, the grounds were tight, not a shadow formed of stuffed animals on polls, all in attendance seemed fashionably fair and porta potties hogged as popular booths. Credit where due, the eats menu salivated curiousity (Po' boy Catfish), the acts hit their marked set tick tocks quite accurately and stage transitions were flawless.

Now, now, an extremely pertinent aspect (stretching years above the mentioned) to consider in hosting a mammoth music fest...ensure quality sound. If you puddled away from the secluded third stage motioning forward to the bigger billed, you addled until sight oodling proximity whether anyone graced the mics. And if they did, you questioned who they were.
For all the snobbery the company offends on the www. the mystery lurks how the petty draw to close out the nights entailed: The National and The Flaming Lips. A colleague drilled a triple acknowledging the former verged winding into U2 hits with the riffs opening their ballads. While the Lips honed in old act they've been buffing what seems decades on, someday sound shall draw merit over trying antics.
The talent bored via: grizzly bear, final fantasy and beirut, neither seems equipped to translate well on a large platform. Other overrated hype: Yeasayer, Black Lips & M83 brought winners and losers, but mostly put me to sleep. Shutting my trap, much applause was felt for Built to Spill, The Very Best, Matt & Kim, Japandroids, slaving more sweat than the weekends clouds dispersed.

By not flaunting their title at site gates coupled with vacant stage hovering posts, Pitchfork warranted respect...not shoving business down fans throats, keeping attention on target. Yet, it's the lack of an appealing target that implies those fest adverting banners might have remained scarce on another take: embarrassment.

Listen Up

"Based out of Brooklyn, they play indie/rock, influences are the Smiths meets Modest Mouse and Radiohead, they've played SXSW and CMJ, pictures are pretty bland, seem purposely casual in front of an outdoor landscape"; escaping the predominately sinister music accompaniment, free beer and snacks, and revolving door of judges, welcome to the Pop Montreal listening sessions.

How is one anointed the graces of staging the plugged festival, well if you're not a part of a label showcase or making movement enough to be thrown an offer to play, its only plausible through the submission process. The number of applicants for the week long multi-venue festival climbs in around 1,400 yearning artists annually (85% online via sonicbids + 15% physical submissions). Unfortunately, only 100 of these submissions make the cut and are programmed into the festival (those are 7% odds).

The requirements are standard, a typical EPK, plus $25 submission fee (necessary so everyone owning a guitar doesn't comply respecting a free pass). For those lost on the Electronic Press Kit, simply: bio, photos, press, CD and contact info.
Imagining this to be your field or industry, how straightforward it stands to complete. Yet, embarrassingly how difficult reality proves. To think a major label would send in for one of their own, without leaving contact info (double checked the empty envelope afterward). One artist left me dumbfounded recently including simply a CD-R, band name, her name and $25 cheque. No bio, no picture, no address, no email, in fact no way of getting hold of her whatsoever. Fortunately facebook and my ambitions endure. But ambition can't produce a record player or boombox to play the vinyl and cassette tapes received.

Than there is Tam, Tam decided to send us an entire Xerox box of paper, included 4 different CDs (without a single highlighted track, hoping songs 1 & 2 of random CD are a favored representation) and personalized apologies for her performance and behaviour a year ago opening for Nice Cave. Her press included a Montreal Gazette article titled "Worst opening act in Montreal music history?", on with the ode to her.


But there is a charming approach, though I caution it is simply backing vocals to the spotlighted musical merit. As the deadline drops, many a acts choose to show face and saunter into our office personally handing over their musical resume. Moodini stopped by with four-year-old twin daughters, who handed over homemade wood helicopter toys. Pom Pom War passed along a set of Army men camouflaging their army themed album cover art. Honest I's punched out space in a book to hold their CD within. 'We're Coming' took their name literal delivering a box of sex toys accompanied by condoms. 'Domlebo' marched through our door singing Bonne Fete to pop, bearing a lit cake (ironically was his birthday) than proceeded to charm each of us individually. Deserving more applause, another act ventured in with chipmunk cheeks routing the office directly from having his wisdom teeth out! Mode Moderne couldn't physically attend hailing from Vancouver, alternatively they elected to ship a fair sized framed painting in the mail. Pricey to send, the portrait was not their work, but taped to it was their bio, flowers and a pop love note. Clearly, this doesn't shed light to their on-stage performance, but the abnormal package did award them a pre-listen.




On to the listening sessions, where the chords, beats, lyrics, etc. of every applicant are aired, following which democratic decisions are made by a jury of associates connected to the industry or with strong music taste. The decision had follows a thumbs up/thumbs down policy to whether the band fits with the festival. Each session lasts about two hours a sitting and rumbles through nearly forty artists, honoring each a minute of a couple songs (spelling why artists should highlight songs they want played). Simultaneously, the band bio, press & influences are voiced, pictures are shown, and peeps discuss the artists potential. After the music breathes air, attendees display their need or dislike of the sonic dispelled. Making this cut only guarantees a trip to a second round in which the stereo spins the CD again and tougher calls are made to match the magic number necessary. Even here, nothing is set, the names are simply passed to the Creative Director for final programming decisions.

At present, we have passed the application deadline for the 2009 festival, and having only hacked through a third of the applications, here are a few acts that have chimed positively to date...

Yes Nice
Ghost of a Stranger
Deleted Scenes
Computer Perfection
Arizona

Flint Happens Across America

Heading out on their first tour across America, the Kinetic Stereokids had every notion to be ecstatic about soaking the experience in, but simultaneously the focus primarily lied on getting their name imprinted in college cities down the Eastern coast.

While passing over 4,000 miles of incomplete white/yellow lines, a story, rather stories wrote themselves. Looking for sex, not here, all band members came in with girlfriends and chased home to get to them. Looking for drugs, too late, a brief glimpse at some meds one night, about it. The music is obviously a mainstay, but most prevalent is the drama. At only 27 years old, they're eleven years into their venture and rewinding half that, stars aligned. Opening for headlining acts on National tours, playing premiere venues in Detroit, the accelerator was on the floor, only they chose to crash the moving vehicle by building bridges with contacts through reckless behavior. Now, they're left attempting to drive through those bridges.

"wherever we go, we bring Flint with us" - justin ford (frontman)

Mike Steibel...Mike Steibel...Mike Steibel, seems to be tattooed on all their worn lips. Truth breathes an intriguing, yet lame figure. A highly creative source to the band, who in extended lapses no longer figures in the band. Wearying 'behind the music' drama spanning years has generated restraint from inclusion on being a full fledged touring member. Present scramble of molding what was a 5 piece into a trio spotlights missing pieces to a finished puzzle. Yet, resolving the issue by making it a permanent change proves challenging as the man in question shares artistic control. Further question marks pertain to band cohesiveness, with members residing sporadically via Detroit, Flint and Chicago; it's difficult to co-ordinate practices, let alone schedule advanced weekend gigs. But for this initial tour across the country, their alter livelihoods were booked off to delve full throttle into this great quest. With the first tour gigs scraping off any rust, KSK were polished by the time they graced the stage at Divan Orange in Montreal. Strutting their vast instrumentation in garnering everyone's ears and equally competitive eyes, the boys didn't disappoint, only a lazy Sunday turnout did.

As the chill of a windy Montreal March night hit, hid away in all night diner munching on poutine, we pined to head south in search of warmth and more importantly crowds. On with the nerve racking border crossing, the highway crawling fog and picturesque mountain greenery and scenery filling Vermont.


Burlington, Vermont.
Pulling into Burlington is in accordance with confronting any one exit city, really we're there? Without a booked gig, KSK audibled storming a popular open mic venue entitled 'Radio Beam' to unmask local hippies needs. Ostensibly, the opposite occurred as attention was warranted for the circus acts that filed through the cozy room that evening. From dreadlocked college Caucasians playing sitar, a paraplegic comedian placing no laughs with stories of cancer, an egotistical guitarist from over hyped local band masturbating his craftwork to no takers, to the grandiose finale of a notorious hobo and ex child offender 'the birdman' stealing the mic for his erratic, yet well polished and city wide known 'five cent version of flavor flav' rap. Surprisingly, the city stuck as the most memorable stop on the trip, how else to file a night that also included spotting a man licking a tree, 6 years of dissension and ignorance between childhood friends melted away and squatting in the banquet hall of a hotel.


With a limited budget, sleeping arrangements are tentatively booked, left to float on economical alternatives. Reality proved radical for struggling musicians. From a roadie's stain drenched carpet, to squirming a suite on top of the Renaissance, taking cover on friend's futons, and staying in the 'cinema room' at a band relative's mansion. Yet, worth exaggerating was the accomplishment had at the Holiday Inn in Burlington. Booked across the street at the Ramada, we ventured testing the market strolling into the opposition lobby, confronting a red faced Irishman steaming about a lack of staff presence, antsy we shouted about to no avail, snooped our sneakers around many a corners and pushed against a door declaring 'oak room'. Emerging was an unfinished banquet room with carpets strewn about, a sun roof, dimmer, convenient exit falling into the parking lot and check-in free hassle. Shrugging shoulders hurried out nabbed their backpacks and barricaded themselves in for the night.


With a tour planned by office chair, bookings are not all sunsets upon confrontation, odds propel the existence of Spinal Tap moments of pulling up to a venue, and grasping it’s simply a coffee shop; enter Cambridge, Mass. and ‘Café Luna’.
Cambridge, Mass.
After whipping through dismal Boston, we reach the heart of college cities. Rather than playing to a mass at the premiere spot 'Middle East', the band stages a Starbucks reminiscent coffee house across the street. Squeezed in tightly to the sobering environment, a quieter set is elected, involving minimal movement, yet still tweaks some ears.

With so little of the day consuming music, the glamour of being 'on the road' quickly fades as you find yourself passing cityscape's in Laundromats, department stores, idle at venues, loading-in loading-out, bars, restaurants, highway rest stops. Romantic laid out on paper, tour stops are a wash in what eyes retain, assessing strictly on a street or two perched on for 6 hours.


Post stopping and starting with America's well harvested highway toll booths, the GPS throws you around a corner onto a street the garbage truck seemingly frequents, yet reassurance "arriving at destination". All you see is some back alley exit covered in spray paint. This is Brooklyn and this is where the music rats crawl at night.


Brooklyn, New York.
Straight from 6am wakeup in Cambridge, it's a race to ViVa Radio headquarters in Brooklyn for a noon radio recording. Arriving on Flatbush, to surmise the next 6 hours would be painfully spent in a squeezed box above American Apparel. From there a direct steer to the evening's venue, the aforementioned high ceiling, two room, warehouse styled 'Public Assembly'. NYC being host to the bands label 'Overdraft Recordings', shapes up a prime showcase and as the mic is approached, the room gets stuffy. In typical hipster form, the crowd looks unimpressed throughout, arms crossed and no movement as the band wear out their tools. When KSK crash to a halt and descend the stage they sweat over the poor reception, only to be informed that the majority were blown away, NEW YORK!


KSK eat molasses, hence a free day in nyc results in Central park, the post office, a bank, dinner in Chinatown, and that's it! Taking care of business more than tourism, a theme for travelling musicians. Vast free time is further spent hating on nyc subway delays, getting carded at every bar, wasting money on a Japanese act at the 'Knitting Factory' and watching the whole band go down with illness. One evening we took cover under the label heads abode in Brooklyn. Mike Koueiter also roles as a lawyer in Times Square who has bled a fair chunk of his funds towards his belief in this band.
I opened dialogue with said man regarding why KSK's live shows exclude the song of their recently released debut video. Revealed was the age-old battle of band conformity vs artistry. Essentially the stubbornness to play their public pleasing card over personal desires. Although in excellent standing relationship, Koueiter has debated at length with them, the need to pull audiences in, with song requests falling on plugged ears. In the bands words, they don't want to give a false representation of who they are, preferring artistic freedom to a controlled plan. Accordingly, they've been playing those songs so long, they attest to being 5 years ahead of the recently released album and want the live act to coincide.

Overall, the 5 day layover seemed like a perfect stay, but turned into a burden, as the lull brought a halt in momentum and depression of questioning purpose. Fortunately, the tension and frustration brought about the most electric set of the tour.


Rain trickles in unison with our Tetris packed rental minivan moving along the I-something to Chapel Hill, North Carolina. Mid afternoon we find ourselves among sparse in the unofficial Tar Heels sports bar, the bartender placing the KSK album into the stereo system and kindly evaluating its merit, a New York lawyer judging in favor enough to commit to the nights gig.
Chapel Hill, North Carolina.
Hunting down 'The Cave' for the night's conquest, we encounter truth to the name. Locating the tunnel squeezed beneath a building, with its shallow roof melting on patrons, we encounter the owner, a four foot version of Matthew McConaughey. He advises to give a shout out mid-performance for sleeping quarter suitors (three parties end up tussling). Further evidencing southern hospitality, he directs us to some hunger quenching diners affording some of that all gravy, all fried action their cuisine is established for. With the day darkening, the stage is set, KSK anxiously await sonically relieving themselves all over the local acts draw. Past taking their spots and putting hands to work, the connection and intensity between the band is electric, felt by all. Although all bringing their 'A' game individually, it seems unspoken tongues further surround the core, creating unfathomable sonic bliss. They give until their allotted time won't give anymore, punishing with a ferocity, that leaves them bleeding all over their equally injured instruments.


As the clock ticks around musicians, hangers on are belittled regarding their interest in music. Creative, creative beings, when not making beats in moving vehicles or recording subway sounds for samples, their ears were booked listening back on the previous shows audio, noting mistakes, talking what worked, debating next set list. Stepping into a record shop peaks the demeaning and proves challenging to walk away witnessing their wallets spend less than $100.



Athens, Georgia.
Noting we were within 3 miles, it proved awkward and disappointing to only note our surroundings as cattle and farms, till finally the city opens up and slaps you across the face. Basically a few drawn out streets, suddenly present bar after restaurant after bar and blood hits the veins, excitement arises. If only it wasn’t St. Patrick’s Day and you weren’t playing some hidden, heavily encased, dark dump. With more of the crowd playing the show than witnessing, Athens was a wash, but as usual KSK didn't check out, rather they excrete sonic imagining a packed house. In celebration of the $0 pocketed for the 16 hour combined driving dedication, KSK proceeds to take advantage of the free Pabst Blue Ribbon offered up. Sauced, they play their pseudo act 'back seat drivers' as I steer through eighteen cop loving checkpoints exiting the U of Georgia vicinity to crash at the opening acts confines neighboring Atlanta.

"when you smoke, it's like you're playing in a different band, I mean you're a good band, but its like listening to two bands at the same time" - j.ford directed at Tony Vu (drummer)

Omnipresent with music is obviously the drugs, and although KSK has pretty much docked that ship, it has heavily influenced the path leading to their present state. However, there is no moral to the story here, it has hit both sides of the fence. The in excuse, those drugs allowed the courage to make what has been made. From aiding the formation of their sound, to their artwork and musical influences, substances have had an assist. They've also formed a stronger bond among the group, as they foiled and toiled in alter experiences together. The out excuse, at the age you start abusing drugs/alcohol to the extent of forming an addiction, you become stagnant in the mentality/frame of mind of that age/time forever. Matter of factly, the missing members of this band remain stuck dealing with their personal demons, out of the bigger picture.

How could the tour be swung without the van breaking down, suiting an emergency oil change layover in Biloxi, Mississippi. The rewards, breathing time at a seafood joint the monkey George W. munched at, doing our own Hurricane Katrina surveillance and tasting the Gulf of Mexico. As carbon wore back on the pavement, and the tank guzzled empty, we hit a Texas rest stop and uncovered treasure, connected to it was the world's dingiest casino, red neck central. These sights helped us humorize the 16hour drive mapping Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana and the don't mess with state. At last, the pinnacle, the reason for rolling the vehicles mileage, arrival at the most important music festival in North America.


Austin, Texas.
Imagining a small town completely wrapped with South by Southwest, the highway drive by painted a sizable city without inclination of a daunting music scene. But curving along to the '6th street' exit, wheels confront blockades withholding the cowboy boots, moustaches, skinny jeans and aviators of hipster college. Literally inhabiting 20 square blocks, sxsw accompanies your mood with either a glimpse of sonic heaven or a depressing sense of music overload. Endless bars sandwiched within the festival grounds present bands from noon to ears content.


Of these bands, the Stereokids in their second life of the festival are shown a couple noon bookings. Stuck trying to entice the early risers to hug the scorching heat on a patio proves challenging. Actually playing to only a handful at a highly populated festival pours frustration, dictating an indifferent 30 minute set upstairs at the 'Blind Pig'. Turning the clock ahead a day, with the minivan fuelled up for the first stretch of a 24 hour trek home to Flint, KSK brace to expel all remaining energy on the outer brim of sxsw in the final gig of the tour. As the band kicks into the set, the sounds a rarity with the live show mirroring the album recording, heavy on samples, Tony weighing light on the drums, but as time slips in come the loops, experimental jamming and heavier beats. Crowd reaction brought a reminder of why the music game is continually recycled and played again and again. Lunching with separate families, a pair of young teenagers happen upon this Irish pub showing, enthralled midway through KSK's opening song, both race for the merch table, inquiring on iTunes availability, but picking up the physical lp nonetheless. Back in their respective seats, they record the name and swallow every chord of the set. When Justin crescendos all by throwing his guitar, pulling the cord on the static, without hesitation the tastemakers of the future bound towards the band to make acquaintance and get autographs on their new discs. Quietly loading out, a serene smile is shared, while the tour may not have reaped in green, it ends with the original purpose had, getting the name Kinetic Stereokids out there for all the right reasons!



For audio of Viva Radio Recording go here. Footage of the Montreal stop on the tour. Finally, Check out the KSK rating in Toronto Star.

Hitting the Pavement

Summer Sonic Festival, August 9th - 10th 2008, Tokyo Japan.

Can’t escape my head, the first breath of Sonic air a frozen image. With the annual festival only hours young, picture patrons strewn across Astroturf, peacefully napping on said surface shading solid concrete beneath. Puzzling, to behold music lovers asleep at the helm of a storm, a quake already shaking the bed they lie in.


Attempting to stretch out and harbor space from the enormity that is Tokyo, the Summer Sonic Festival earths half (other being in Osaka simultaneously) its music bliss in Chiba, a greater Tokyo residential area. Despite the distanced JR railway excursion, said location still lays tucked in the midst of skyscrapers, raised walkways and surprisingly, palm trees.
Upon admission of the front gate, was flattened to uncover the bulk of this daunting music festival is housed indoors. Resembling an airport hangar, the majority grounds are separated into grand rooms, each coldly accompanied by darkness and concrete. Their contents entail: three stages, an elephant accommodating sized food court, and extracurricular amenities, all linked together by a massive back corridor.
However, this is not the only canvas, rather the allotted space tumbles out from the covers and spills onto the neighboring floor.
Unfortunately, that footing requires binoculars to view, as the Marine Stage (outdoor stadium hosting the headliners) is at such a length that shuttle buses are provided to abridge the distance. Those wishing to forgo a bus line or not willing to make the 30 minute trek by foot (including a highway overpass) can watch a feed from a screen in the main grounds. With still more paint in the can, opposite the stadium reaches a long winding walkway to the sand and the sea. Somehow, this is connected and host to another stage, in a completely different stratosphere.


Seemingly, it feels the festival has conflicting interests with no sticking personality. To the point, Coachella has the desert, Glastonbury the oft muddy farm, while Summer Sonic has an airport hangar, a beach and a baseball park! Grasp for too much and you’ve got no distinction. Although one can seemingly adjust, due to the festivals nature, all weekend I nostalgically pined for grass, sun, mud, tents, any or all of it. Burying the prejudice, one fixture SSF sustains is roping in a mammoth crowd and a vast array of acts, to the tune of over 100,000 and 115 respectively.
In this realm, the weekend belonged to energetic performances by Crystal Castles, Hot Chip and Friendly Fires. Worth noting, the Verve’s Richard Ashcroft wielded an air of God as he calmly orchestrated his band through epic symphonic pop to the charming pleasure of a massive stadium gathering. Contrarily, to the displeasure of the dedicated and undermining the ‘silent disco’ (via headphones) muting the noise curfew, all music was astonishingly packed in by 10PM. With insufficient on-site hospitality, patrons were caught in a heavy current for the subway back to Tokyo, only to reverse the tide in the morning. As a result, I regrettably missed the ‘Ting Tings’ performance at 11:30AM, their time slot chronicling the lineup as profound.


In years past, one could jammer on highlighting the countless and vast cultural differences from Summer Sonic and festivals on the Western front. However, the angle is quickly disappearing as the blue and green circle heats up. By way of the worlds ‘smaller’ phenomenon has emerged increasing commonality in interests and ideas, most heavily evident at an international music festival. From art exhibits, hipster style and obligatory ‘guitar hero’ stations, to food adaptation, the beloved music itself and the environmental consciousness ignited via strict recycling.
Yet, in the midst of all this, remains a struggle to release characteristics deemed unique. An obvious distinction that evaded detection until ample exposure, thereafter leaking copious absurdity was the conservative crowd. The Japanese brought their general nature to the forefront showcasing anti-festival antics. The polite applause (and only applause) quickly silenced between song, the absence of jubilate shouts for encores after headlining sets, no crowd chants, outrageous outfits and odd behavior nearly non-existent, a lack of roughhousing, and neither the sight of flags or signs in plain view. Although all could be attributed to the oddity of spotting a patron with beer in hand, such was the cultural disparity from previous festival experience that when a local accidentally bumped me (inevitable with the population) he bowed, a first, anywhere.
Mingling with an air of conventionalism, the structured layout proved too much for a music festival. With select stair cases only permitting one direction, the food grouped altogether in one location, select smoking spots and absolutely no trash to kick about, it felt less laid back and more a challenge to get comfortable.







Breaking out of the shell, the extra-curricula’s were quite diverse with a stage amended for karaoke and air guitar competitions, others being invaded by a casino, a hair salon, yoga classes, fish bowl massages and a bag check stretching pupils to their limits. Detracted from discovering new bands, patrons pass the lull between favored acts pissing off into another field of entertainment. It seems lost on misguided eagerness that they’re creating direct competition with themselves.
Without question Summer Sonic looms large in no whisper of falling flat on the cement it abuses, but to ponder is whether it will continue to grow away from the music and more towards taking a longer walk in the park, stadium or nearest airport.





The bill included: the verve, the prodigy, panic at the disco, the subways, joe lean and the jing jang jong, los campesinos, coldplay, alicia keys, radwimps, the kooks, 311, hoosiers, vampire weekend, the wombats, sex pistols, lost prophets, fatboy slim, justice, devo, beat union, the ting tings, the metros, kids in glass houses, trivium, late of the pier, polysics, junkie xl, biffy clyro, mutemath, boom boom satellites, paul weller, the fratellis, death cab for cutie, cajun dance party, the kills, band of horses, blood red shoes, these new puritans, jesus and mary chain, super furry animals, against me!, mgmt, silversun pickups, hot chip, friendly fires, south central, we smoke fags, santogold, perfume, pendulum, yelle, new young pony club, the teenagers, the shoes, meg, wagdug futuristic unity, hadouken!, does it offend you, yeah?, crystal castles, xavier rudd, bedouin soundclash, tokyo police club, the troubadours, cut off your hands.

An Interview with the Sogyumo Acacia Band

Preceding the Pentaport Festival, I was granted permission to peruse the index of Korean acts about to don the weekends stages, for an interview of my choosing. While sifting through MySpace pages of said subjects about to play the festival, the search was halted upon discovery of the 'Sogyumo Acacia Band'. This Asian take on a 'Sigur Ros' type vocals rang through and caught my attention. Primarily a duo of MinHong Kim (guitar, vocals) and EunJie-Song (Melodihorn, vocals), accompanied live by a backing band, they have been playing together for 7 years. In the last couple years, the band has extended out with a side project aiding in the debut album of rising performer 'Yozoh'.
Recently (post festival), on one of the most humid days of a scorching summer in Seoul, we cheated the sun and sat down for a casual chat in the confines of a chic air-conditioned restaurant, and than extended the conversation to a nearby cafe.
translation by Soonae Jin (Pastel Music)


Q: What was your introduction to music or how did you get into it?

Yozoh: From our youth, it was very natural. We all started playing piano in elementary school (as is the norm in the nation) and it progressed naturally from there.

EunJie-Song: In this country, the school system and natural life is so hard to live, it's very strict and there is a lot of pressure to excel. I couldn't concentrate in this environment, so I tried to find something different. I would always listen to music in class to escape and get into my own little world.

Q: How did you know that you were good enough or that you would want to do this for a career?

MinHong Kim: In my life, I hate everything except one thing, music. So, I knew that's the only thing I wanted to do. When I served in the Army I bought a new guitar and decided to concentrate on making a band when I got out. I just felt rebellion against the country's discipline, I wanted my life to be more relaxed and in my control.

Q: Being in the Tent Stage audience (pictured below) at your show on the weekend, it was hard to ignore the growing fan base you've got, how did you perceive your Pentaport showing?

EunJie: Oh, we were quite nervous and excited, it was the biggest crowd we've ever played for.


Q: What do you do to relieve stress or get ready for a show backstage?

MinHong: Usually just some stretching.

EunJie: For Pentaport I was so nervous because of the crowd size that I began smoking again, after having given it up for so long.

Q: I noticed your set seemed to end abruptly or with no warning or acknowledgement of a last song, was this intentional or were you cut short of your allotted time?

Eunjie: Yeah, no it was just nerves, we had a plan and we hurried through the set and got done everything early.

Q: What are your thoughts on this festival bringing International and Korean bands together on the same bill?

EunJie: It's great for helping the industry grow. Something like 'The Gossip' with the lead vocalist being much bigger would never work here, image being so important. But it was great and now it opens up the idea or chance in people's minds. People being more open to various music attracts a lot more people to us.

Q: One of the crowd pleasing singalongs you played had the chorus "I want to taste your Banana". I'm looking at you and understand you to be Korean, so I'm wondering if it's the language gap or whether that song has the underwritten connotation I think?

Yozoh: Yes, it is sexual. Actually, that song got airplay on KBS(nation wide broadcasting network), but was eventually pulled after they figured out what it meant.

Q: How do you decide when to fit English lyrics into your music?

MinHong: Usually, we don't have much of it in our songs. For the festival, we really wanted to entertain, so we made the set fit to that. Because it's not our language and we don't know the grammar so well, we don't use it much.

Q: Any idea how Western music got popular in this part of the world?

EunJie: Well, actually the American military brought over the blues and jazz, during the war. Japan has also had a carry over to Korea.

Q: Online, I came across your cover of Neil Young's 'Harvest Moon'. How/when did you become exposed to Western music and what are the influences you carry into your own music?

MinHong: Growing up pre-internet, Western music was hard to come across, maybe one radio station would broadcast some songs, at the time there wasn't even an MTV Asia yet, but I really wanted to see more of the music, so I sought out a few places that aired the American version. As for Neil Young, I didn't discover him until some years ago. Now I listen to Neil Young in the morning, Bob Marley in the afternoon and Bob Dylan in the evening, another strong influence is Antonio Carlos. Also, I would like to create something like the Buena Vista Social Club here in Seoul.

Q: How do you carry these influences into your music?

MinHong: I love their music, but more I really respect the way they live their lives outside of the music as well and that's really what I aspire to do. But, that's where the similarities end, I'm not trying to be them, my music is Korean and I have to look at my life. I want to stay true to what is happening in my life and having my life reflect in my music is very important, I like the idea of art imitating life.

Q: On the weekend, I noticed the 'Melodica' is becoming a more and more popular instrument, how did it come to be so prominent in your songs?

Yozoh: (genuinely shocked) Really, it is popular?

EunJie: Well, we used to have an accordion but it was just so heavy to carry around and have on stage, so we brought in the Melodica and introduced it to Yozoh and she has become a master of it. We love the sound it emits.


Q: Are you wary of commercial success?

MinHong: No, we don't have a problem, we welcome it.

Q: What other hobbies do you have?

Yozoh: Photography.

EunJie: Yoga. I spent a lot of time and money to find the right teacher, I find it very important to get all you can from Yoga.

Q: Obviously, the last few years in the industry have been dominated by the issue of illegal downloading, do you take exception to your music being accessible without your permission?

MinHong: No, not at all, it has helped us.

Q: Where do you make the income to survive on this as a solo career? Where is your music available?

MinHong: Composing, copyright.

EunJie: Our music is used as background music for blogs, ringtones, etc. It's available on Cyworld (itunes equivalent).

Q: Have you guys had any tours?

A: Yes, we get good crowds in Seoul and Busan (next biggest city), but some of the other stops are to a really small audience.

Soonae: They probably do the most shows in Korea. They play about a show a week.

Q: Have you ever toured or played a show outside of Korea?

Eunjie: No.

Q: Would you be interested in coming to Canada and playing Pop Montreal.

All: Definitely!


http://www.myspace.com/sogyumoacaciaband

Sogyumo Acacia Band
EunJie-Song - vocal, lyrics, chorus, melodihorn
Minhong-Kim - compose, lyrics, Guitar
Jooyoung-Jung - Bass Guitar
Kwanyoung-Kim - Electric Guitar
Jinho-Oh - Drum

http://www.myspace.com/yozoh

Thanks to: Pastel Music & Soonae Jin
Co-contributor: Vivian Morelli

Running On Fumes: Tale of a Korean Music Festival

Claiming the last weekend of the rain season, the Pentaport Rock Festival (gracing ground in Incheon, South Korea), tackles true festival conditions (hurricane-esque). Yet, the end of July timing is by no choice of festival organizers, rather it is obligatory, to accompany the Fuji Rock Festival in Japan. With a considerably small foreign music market compared to neighbouring J-pan, Pentaport faces the reality of selectively attempting to beckon artists solely from the pool clamouring to Fuji. Freshly concluding its third edition, the 3 day festival continues to fly on the fuselage of this bigger international carrier. With Korea generally passed over by touring artists and unable to break solo from the notoriety of the south, all energy and resources are spent enticing bands it's worth another day in Asia to make the trek. Having also attended the festivals inaugural showing, I attest the most frequent statement from lead vocalists is unveiling this as their debut performance in South Korea. This is commonly followed by a sentiment expressing genuine shock at the locals enthusiasm and reception. Clearly, someone's slacking in PR, no one knows this market is worth exploiting.


With prerequisites in order: camping, movie theater, guitar hero, beach area, all night dance tent, corporate sponsorships, foot massages, the event carries a miniature nostalgia of the famed fests known earth wide. Yet an off kilter observation saw the presence of pot as abundant as finding beer at a corner store in Ontario: nonexistent. Also, since the festival's conception there has been a major decline in the foreign food department. Further against the tide, a major tail-off is the lack of a decent backdrop (to the left a broken down amusement park, while the right holds a run-down soccer field and a Daewoo Motors parking field). With Seoul the size it is, attendees are left to scratch their greasy strands at why the surroundings aren't easier on the eyes.


In flexing their technological biceps whilst simultaneously spotlighting an overly obvious yearning for acclaim, this year the festival debuted a questionable innovation: money bracelets. The concept seemed unnecessary and proved the same. Requiring all to hit up targeted booths where figures forwarded to chips on our wristbands via an Ipod looking reader (which vendors also required), it seemed to mirror paper beer tickets. Furthering the hassle, the bracelet had to be returned to retrieve unspent cash, who never met a beat-the-crowd race they didn't enjoy.
Mind you, there were advancements where others should take note, including the camping service offering tent rentals at $10 for the weekend, abundant Internet resources (genius PR move, as goers no doubt rave on about their location), constant shuttles (to subway connecting Seoul), and almost unnoticeable set breaks, with scheduled times strictly adhered to.


The said schedule spilled the names of 68 artists of which three quarters were local, a handful British (this country is in awe of Brit Rock), a few Australian and Japanese, and one American.
In complimenting a previous rant, this years lineup included wash-ups: 'The Vines' and 'Travis' (laughably headlining). Also, while indications promised more, lousy Japanese act 'Ellegarden', had to be moved up to Friday nights headliner last minute. I won't hide the sets were all well received (Koreans are quite generous in nature), but I question whether it's a result of little exposure to alternative options.
While I applaud taking a chance on 'The Gossip', 'The Go! Team', 'Hard-Fi' and 'The Music', one cannot overlook what escaped from their grasps: 'Bloc Party','Spoon', 'The Futureheads', 'Asian Dub Foundation', 'Lee 'Scratch' Perry', 'My Bloody Valentine', 'Primal Scream', 'Stephen Malkmus'.
Negativity aside, 'The Gossip's' Beth Ditto stole the weekend, bringing one hour of unfathomable energy, and the packed tent replied having Ditto gushing "this is the best show ever". Not equaling the feat, 'Kasabian' at the polar opposite of the bar, came off stale, an indistinguishable Interpol type. 'Feeder' brought up high school feelings, 'The Go! Team' were cheerleaders for that high schools pep rally, 'The Music' had only light dancing shoes, while 'Underworld' was a yawner with the exact same show witnessed at an outdoor gig seven years ago. Many of the Korean bands screamed punk rock, other local acts proved soft and cliche, but a gem was uncovered in the Sogyumo Acacia Band.


Overall, one couldn't deny a good time, but in the grand scheme, still in early life the festivals already reached a flat line.
Seemingly, the logistics aren't great for drawing a band to the other side of the world for no promised return and a guaranteed high cost. And unfortunately, there is no pairing up with Japan's bigger, better 'Summer Sonic' festival as it already occupies each bands entire weekend with stops in both Tokyo and Osaka.
But, if Pentaport is to become renowned, take that back, even a blimp on the radar, it won't be at the teeth of a food bracelet. Rather, it's via distinguishing itself, stop booking the pale guaranteed success and take a risk on something more rewarding.

A Foot Warmer

"Play this, they love it" chimed in as the 'Beatles 1' compilation is pressed into my upward palm by a passing colleague. Heeding the advice, I enter the next box of a room, and sheepishly re-introduce the Beatles to yet another portable stereo. As the first sounds from McCartney's throat breathe air, a lucid dream figures in... lyrics to 'Hello Goodbye' are being spilled in chorus across the room. Reality hits, in truth these four walls situated in Daejeon, South Korea are flanked by a crowd of 7 year-old Koreans enthusiastically accompanying on lead vocals. As song reaches descent, said subjects begin shouting requests for every other tune on the LP.

Understanding accomplished facts,... the Beatles are beloved earth wide and the obvious, music transcends borders & languages; there lies a deeper recognition needing to surface. In the land of the yin-yang, music reins of vital importance.

With every girl bred on piano lessons, it's no wonder the majority have instrumentation mastered by the teens. Excused in as a symbol of discipline and brain stimulation, not all is cherry as one observes obedience standing in favour of creativity. Yet, having music breastfed in their youth, many serve it as a passion and interest carried through life. The preceding sentiment is most evident in the late night soju induced entertainment of the ever plentiful & popular, and now world renown Noraebong's (karaoke rooms). Where, in a past drunken state, I've purposely stumbled into an alternative room to behold a solitaire local enthusiastically exercising his voice. Present at our school itself, mothers of the children have their own scheduled choir practice, where they collaborate to belt out laughables like "La Bamba". The dominant presence of foreign music is not solely a sign of Western influence, but also stressed as a means of education in language pick-up.

In consistently squishing the rubber 'up' arrow, the green 28 catches the right-hand corner of the screen. A grabbing scene of 'Taekwondo' highlights, one subject seems to be taking it to numerous worldwide opponents. As the clips subside, a talk show emerges and essentially the setup is an interview with this burly 'Taekwondo' king. Minutes on, microphone in hand he gets up and starts delicately crooning some love ballads. In-take, this is not a one-off showing, there are countless exhibits of the behaviour. Conclusively, in this country whosoever face graces the TV bubble, appears liable to sing (from Taekwondo champs to cooks and the everyday hosts themselves). The kicker, this is no farce, although there is no album release or talent promotion, each is found to be showcasing a decent voice.

Witness a sporting event, and be taken aback that chants, dancing and singalongs garner the most action. With thunder sticks in tow and led by a conductor (not shy to distract against the game, see below), attendees bring more attention to cheerleading than any feet kicking turf or wooden sticks being swung. No matter the score, it seems employed in fans of either opponent to equally exercise three hours of non-stop energy. How so many routines and chorus's are memorized is for a foreigner to marvel. The thought is magnified when observing a 'new store opening'. This event cannot go unnoticed, rather it is a spectacle of mass proportions. First day of business, the owner of your new toiletries joint or restaurant will hire dancers who aim speakers to blast Korean hits out onto the sidewalk while they proceed with eight hours of choreographed moves on the stoop of the establishment in skimpy little outfits.


Music television and live outdoor performances are seemingly monopolized by boy bands and girl pop, which equates to focus on dance routines over sonic merit. One of the quote unquote 'artists' in this category named 'Rain' managed to prosper globally and quietly sold out 'Madison Square Gardens' a few years back. A growing fascination is the hip-hop culture, which again appears heavily influenced and formulated by overseas happenings. Further, in recent years focus has shifted away from local artists to spotlighting foreign acts. Hence, many Western and English bands are now hitting the scene and making Seoul a tour destination. Matter of fact, the increasing popularity garnered the creation of 'Pentaport' a third year established international music festival. With the festival playing out in a month, and hauling a healthy bill of Asian artists, I aspire to jump aboard and get on the cusp of the Korean music scene.

All this serious music chatter bleeds for comic relief, I leave with a foreign 'music video' take on Korean culture entitled Kickin' It In Geumchon

Outside on the Inside: Pop Montreal 2007

Pop pop pop pop pop pop! So much to take in, so little time. A common thread amongst the festival; yet, like scratching further below the mountain of McGill, an alternative word to 'time' might be 'access'. Just inquisite upon those who volunteered for a pass, only sparing their time to be harassed. It seemed the stiff arm of the festival came down on all wearing the purple wristband, regarded more as a lame fashion accessory. While Pop is quickly growing to assimilation's with SXSW, the perils of which sound appetizing, the results are drastically devastating. Being rejected at the venue doorstep has become the norm, forcing music-goers to scratch off the top sought acts and/or prioritize to simply one show a night.

Not here to fault festival at not seeking larger alternative venues, those currently housing the festival are one of a kind. Rather, I want the axe to fall on the allowance of attendance abuse by suedo volunteers. The secret is out, all it takes to gain a wristband to shows is signing up to lend a lie in the production of the events. Hence, as doors open each night, the over-abundance of aid disappears and crowds through the venue gates, quickly filling the wristband quota and blocking out what approaches the majority. To criticize without solution would be lame,...have volunteers put down a deposit (same price as bracelet on its own). If the volunteer fulfills their duties, than the deposit is returned, if they skip out on their responsibilities than they bought their ticket to the festival just like all others attending.

One could hack on endlessly to glue the rips in an enormous event such as this, but in all essence, it best is as is, the dis-organization curates last minute madness and frantic desires, the numbered crowds spark interest and attention, the seemingly unknown artists become known, the distance between venues becomes an adventure, the conflicting schedule leads to acceptance and appreciation of what is ultimately undertaken. Than again, one can plan. And I'm here to spread the word about what was made a point of and alternatively what came to fruition. If you haven't yet, get a hold of: Hot Springs, Zoobombs, Kinetic Stereokids, Jesse Dangerously and Fujiya & Miyagi. Out of which, a pair were fortunate surprises and the other handful exceeded expectation. On a larger scale, 'Pop Montreal 2007' swept old dusty curtains off a few neglected legendary and/or monumental acts: Cody Chesnutt, Half Japanese, Gary Lucas, Fred Wesley and Patti Smith.*

And while the single city, multi-venue festival might reap endless similarities and comparison to others alike, the originality was felt and left to ponder: why aren't there more afternoon shows round the world? why can't we always limit to a 10 minute break between artists? why not more rock n roll shows in churches? why not 4 artists on a billing? why can't we turn more haunted, rundown old age homes into venues hosting a house party featuring James Brown's former Trombone player?

Finally, why not allow more purple bracelets?

(In dedication to friends blocked out of Caribou, Sunset Rubdown, Patti Smith, The National and A-Trac)

* All of which were boldly humanized whilst accompanied to and from the airport. Whether it entailed: borrowing $100 off my job deprived self, revealing their fear of ever having to smoke marijuana, my making a 'Ryan Adams' fan out of a 'Jeff Buckley' collaborator (simply playing 'love is hell pt. 1'), unveiling their stripped down grumpy old self, or almost being stranded at the airport while their passport sat comfortably in my car trunk.(respectively)

Polar Opposite

"it's still ryan adams"

Words never been exchanged and mutually vocalized more clearly across 80 time zones. My good buddy and r.adams introductory tutor (some 4 years ago), presently resides in Sydney, Australia., which saw Ryan come crashing through some weeks ago. His statement was to encourage my spirits to the fact that Adams was a major disappointment in his Oz showing (acting a miss, storming off the stage, little energy) and I was hesitantly about to embark on the ryan adams adventure myself. Not that I could breath to let any opportunity pass of seeing the man live, but just nervous anxiety, 'if...could I fall off an elevated seat on the wagon?'.

Fast forward to present typing, and the hilarity to understand I put that in question, as I personally know 6 individuals who are now pushing there way onto that ever busy bandwagon.

Knowing Montreal's proficiency for gigs starting on time and early, we got to our seats promptly for the 8pm showtime. Looking across the balcony, I was embarrassed to see more than half the seats empty (blame shall fall on the promoter, $60 seats, just cause the 'Rolling Stones' took the year off touring, come on!). Although, no complaints here, it provided benefit twofold: firstly, in my ever appreciative position in the music world I somehow landed an extra (6) guest list passes, including two tickets front row center. More importantly, it gave Ryan ever more silence to lay down his talented vocals.

To state the common sentiment 'you could hear a pin drop' would have you inhaling without truly smoking, so I'll drag it into the lungs; up in the balcony mid-song, a companion of mine, carefully got up to leave her seat (to bring ticket for a friend waiting in the wings), and corner of my eye I caught her guiding the belly of the seat up slowly to its resting place as to avoid whatever slight creaking might escape and in some possibility disrupt the performance.

It's no secret that Ryan Adams is the extreme of a hit or miss, there is no middle ground, he either connects and gives you a breathtaking show, or he coldly isolates himself and shuns his abilities from the crowd, electing to combat with verbal abuse. Well, pardon my love of baseball, but on this warm September night in Montreal, he hit one for extra bases.

It's incredible how well his music can transcend from album to live, if I might be so brave as to claim, it might even sound eighty-four times better. For two sets, two encores and a grand total of 21 songs (and there's not many three minute songs to be found here..see set list below) the select crowd who made the right decision to hit up the St.Denis Theatre this night were hypnotized for approximately two hours.

And when it was all said and done,...it wasn't done! In my decade of going to gigs I understood that when the venue lights came on, the show was over. But before anyone reached the 'sortie' signs, storming back came Ryan and the Cardinals, quickly retorting "that's fine we can play with the lights on" (they were quickly turned down again) and all stood in amazement witness of an outstanding take of "Easy Plateau".

*pictures courtesy of Danielle Smith

Ryan Adams - St. Denis Theatre, Montreal - September 19th, 2007

1st Set
Please Do Not Let Me Go
Peaceful Valley
Beautiful Sorta
Wild Flowers
Off Broadway
Dear John
Goodnight Rose
Blue Hotel
Mockingbird
Magnolia Mountain
I See Monsters

2nd Set
Sylvia Plath (solo piano)
Sweet Lil Gal (solo piano)
Rescue Blues
Dear Chicago
Shakedown on 9th Street
Cold Roses
Games

Encore #1
Night Birds
Goodnight Hollywood Boulevard

Encore #2
Easy Plateau

I'm sorry Eric.

*AA stands for 'front f'n row'(to Danielle)

EXTRA
The band came out in good spirits and it showed. The between song stage chatter hit a varied of topics (the ridiculous 'bon jovi'/being english in a french bookstore/fret gods/a Cardinal's hunt for bringing a pretty montreal gal back to his hotel), it all gave a positive indication they wouldn't get side-tracked or turned around by any dummy audience requests and when one girl vocally proclaimed her love, without hesitation Ryan hit back "yeah, but than there's the angry text messages, seduce and abandonment, things just get crazy, I mean crazy!" .
And when said 'dummy's' did yell out song requests, the responses were fresh cuts, one man requesting "two" and getting "one" back from the singer (assuming the man to be single), a fellow annoyed audience member also coming to Ryan's defence stating "i don't think he'll get there". At another request of "to be young", the man was embarrassed when he got back "Dad?, how did you get into Canada?, I thought they wouldn't let you through with that criminal record!". But it was all light hearted, with Adams even poking fun at himself, in stating "I'm not the type who would storm off a stage, I've never played a show on drugs and alcohol, I'm the reasonable person in the band"