After The Faint finished their sound check, I asked Todd Fink and Jacob Thiele if they consider playing in NYC to be a high pressure gig. They smiled and said playing at home in Omaha was far more stressful. “There’s too many friends, too many family that show up,” they offered. Judging by last night’s performance at Terminal 5, they were indeed telling the truth. Kicking off with “Agenda Suicide” from Danse Macabre, the dance-rock five-piece tore through an energetic set that had hands in the air, from the stage to the rear bar, for much of the show. As Fink held the mic, he twisted and cavorted his body as the songs appeared to flow effortlessly through through body. Guitarist Dapose was perhaps the biggest surprise. A former metal guitarist, his skillful use of melody and rhythm is one of the elements that differentiates the band.
Out of all the songs The Faint played from their newly self-released album, Fasciinatiion, “Psycho” and “The Geeks Were Right” appeared to make the best connection with the crowd. The only problem, however, seemed to be the space in between songs: It seemed like people didn’t want to stop dancing, and they were smart not to offer too much banter. For a band whose bread and butter is mixing dance and rock music, that’s definitely not a bad problem to have.
For two days the Home of the Preakness in Baltimore was transformed into a music-lovers’ paradise, complete with Virgin angels spraying cool mist to offset the summer heat and cheerfully handing out souvenir programs to enhance the vibe. As in the past two years since the annual event launched, the devil was in deciding where to be with over 40 of the greatest bands and DJs on two stages and in a state of the art dance tent. Choose and you might lose. But you really couldn’t go wrong.
Memorable moments from Saturday included: KT Tunstall, before playing “Saving My Face” suggesting, “Instead of getting bigger boobs, we should get third ones—that would be more memorable.” Duffy sounded like Ronnie Specter in a Ronettes revival remarking between songs that she didn’t think she’d ever played a gig at 1:30 pm before; the crowd pogoing madly to gypsy rockers Gogol Bordello; seeing a couple of teen-aged girls singing and dancing to “A Hard Day’s Night” played by a Beatles tribute band, the Silver Beats; and rock ‘n’ roll founding father Chuck Berry (who at 81 still manages a mean little duck walk) having V-Fest producer Seth Hurwitz sit in for his drummer on “Johnny B. Goode.” Then there was LA house legends DJ Dan and Donald Glaude tag-teaming, the latter sometimes manaically whipping his dreads while beating an electronic drum pad or scratching; the crowd moshing to Bloc Party‘s “Mercury” while skateboarders freestyled on a nearby half-pipe; DJs Steve Lawler and Ferry Corsten chatting with fans and being presented with Mike Ming Dell laptops in the Dell Dome, while Underworld’s singer/guitarist Karl Hyde‘s other-worldly, mesmerizing, weightless dancing proved most entertaining. Dave Grohl of the Foo Fighters raised his acoustic guitar vertically and attacked the chords on the choruses in “My Hero” (which he dedicated to “Jimmy”), ending the night with “Best of You” and Grohl calling out, “Thanks a lot, you guys! Take care of yourselves!”
Sunday’s smorgasboard included: the irrepressible Go! Team with vivacious lead singer Ninja and backup vocalist Kaori Tsuchida (recorder, glockenspiel, piano) singing irresistible anime-punk; Bunny of Rabbit In The Moon, master of stage presence, rolling off the stage over the crowd in a gigantic clear “hamster ball”; Deadmau5 kicking off his set in his blue and white mouse head mask, his magnetic tribal electro-house inspiring a slam pit (quickly diffused by security); Taking Back Sunday lead singer Adam Lazzara crouching at the edge of the stage during “A Decade Under the Influence” which morphed briefly into The Beatles’ “I Want You (She’s so Heavy),” and later wondering out loud if Bob Dylan is ever on Facebook; Lil’ Wayne peeling off his T-shirt revealing a tight white tank top, exclaiming, “It’s getting hot! Or is it just me?” and rapping, “When I say more – you say volume!” and the crowd shouting back, hands up in the air. Moby ended his thundering powerhouse techno set standing atop the deck table fists outstretched victoriously like Zeus and the crowd chanting his name; a couple embracing, kissing and swaying when Bob Dylan’s band started “When the Deal Goes Down,” the crowd singing hauntingly with Trent Reznor to NIN’s “Piggy (Nothing Can Stop Me Now),” the ever-smiling Armin van Buuren slowing down his last track to a stop and waving, then obliging his ecstatic fans with an encore, a trance remix of U2’s “Beautiful Day.”
Leave it to overachiever Kanye West (who worked shout-outs to Takoma Park, Md., the University of Maryland Terrapins, and Barack Obama into “Flashing Lights”) to end half an hour past closing time, climaxing with “Stronger,” pantomiming being attacked and losing balance, falling face down flat on the stage, then rising up with one index finger raised triumphantly, exhorting the crowd, “Let me see your hands! Touch the sky!”
Add to the mix the eco-friendliness, live attractions like the Charm City Roller Girls, random sightings of dancing bushes and Ranger Rick (National Wildlife Federation raccoon character), awareness-raising booths, and a portion of each ticket going to charities, one couldn’t ask for a better planned celebration of music, art and our planet. Massive shout-out to Sir Richard Branson for the best V-Fest yet.
The Virgin Mobile Festival took place this weekend in Baltimore and featured a star-studded bill starring some acts you may have heard of such as Foo Fighters, Kanye West, Stone Temple Pilots, and Nine Inch Nails. But the DJ tent wasn’t too shabby either. Armed with her camera, Big Shot reporter Mary Ishimoto Morris caught up with Moby, Armin van Buuren, P-Thugg from Chromeo, Rabbit in the Moon, Steve Lawler, Donald Glaude, DJ Dan, and various other jocks and asked them to pay homage to Sir Richard Branson.
While waiting an hour for Ratatat to take the stage, I overheard a foursome of dudes no older than 21 who drove 14 hours to catch a rare glimpse of the Brooklyn based outfit. As they talked about their plans on Wednesday (which included a visit to the Shake Shack in Manhattan), one of them kept reminding his buddies how fortunate they were to have obtained tickets to the show that sold out in mere hours. (Indeed, ticketless fans hoping for a miracle milled about all night on N. 6th Street.) But the band kept everyone waiting for some unknown reason (maybe bar sales were low?), and the dudes, probably thinking that this is what people do in New York, began chanting Ratat-suck!
Ratatat soon took the stage and the boys’ jeers morphed into cheers. Performing as a trio, the first thing you notice is their drummer-less setup. There’s also no need for vocals, because guitarist Mike Stroud’s axe is the band’s voice, fueled by electronic beats, samples and patches. And what a sound it is. While Ratatat’s notorious underground remash called “Party & Bullshit” relied on a crafty Notorious B.I.G. sample and riff as wide as the Great Wall of China, newer tracks from the newly released LP3 find Stroud in full on guitar hero mode, something he seems almost entirely comfortable with.
Stroud wailed with the soul of master players like Jeff Beck (he played with the same emotion heard on Beck’s “Cause We Ended As Lovers”) and the technical perfection of Yngwie Malmsteen (sans the blazing speed), often bending back like a limbo dancer and putting one foot on the monitor while shredding his digitally doubled guitar phrases. But tonight wasn’t all about the riff. On “Mi Viejo” Shroud offered delicate baroque style chord progressions that built into a percussive and drum solo accomplished with bassist Evan Mast.
Amid a backdrop of interesting movie clips and visuals (“Flynn” featured a rather bizarre video remix of Paul Simon’s “You Can Call Me Al”), Stroud was in the zone throughout the show. Though he couldn’t get his amp loud enough early on, by mid-show he was at the point Eddie Van Halen refers to as “the brown sound,” a place where everything sounds perfect. Strangely enough, the crescendo of the night was the understated “Shiller,” a far more restrained song that builds on gorgeous synth washes and crafty samples.
When Ratatat took a second to catch its breath, Shroud picked up a bottle of what might’ve been whiskey and chugged it a la Keith Richards, much to the the Midwest boys’ delight. It was more like a celebratory metaphor because someone had finally succeeded in marrying rock with electronic music.
