Living Proof

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Where the narrative is always in flux

Takin’ it back: Rainer Maria’s Anyone in Love with You (Already Knows)

February 8th, 2010

Ah, the live album. Rainer Maria was always a great live band: Kyle Fischer’s boundless energy lit up the venue, Will Kuehn’s drumming held everything together, and Caithlin DeMarrais’s vocals were a degree or two more delicate and revelatory than on record (see “Rise”). That said, the live record Anyone in Love with You (Already Knows) (Polyvinyl, 2004) isn’t a live show: the tracks (representing all four previous albums they had released by this time) are culled from six different shows over three years, and it just feels weird to longtime fans. The production is consistent across the album, so there are no auditory cues that this is a compilation, but the pacing is all off, “Tinfoil” starts the set (as it starts 1997’s Past Worn Searching) instead of the encore, and plenty of live mainstays are simply missing. On the plus side, it’s great to hear a more mature band reading songs from their back catalog, such as “The Reason the Night is Long,” “Rise” (both on 1999’s Look Now Look Again), and “Soul Singer” (the single non-album track here, on the Atlantic EP, 1999). The live mixing reveals new elements at times: although not as tight as on record, Rainer Maria’s performances always had some musical surprises; and we can even hear Fischer’s vocal choruses, as on “Mystery and Misery.”

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February 7th, 2010

Cornerstone 2009: Day 1, Part 3

February 6th, 2010

2:15pm: After checking out some more generator stages, I stroll down Main Street a bit further, and I see a huge crowd spilling out of the Indoor/Encore 1 Stage. My sister, a previous attendee, told me that if I see a huge crowd I should follow them, because they probably know something I don’t. I end up seeing my favorite band all day, All The Day Holiday, from Cincinnati OH—they’re already halfway through their set, and they’re actually pretty awesome. Live it’s a good blend of guitar-based, experimental indie rock—I write in my notebook that they sound like a cross between Explosions in the Sky and Death Cab for Cutie—and it’s a nice departure from the heavy bands I keep running into and passing by on the generator stages. More electronic elements come through on the record, and it’s pretty obvious that these guys have listened to a lot of Radiohead. There are a lot of people here—the tent is pretty massive, but there are at least 200–300 people here—and it looks and feels like a community, with everyone sincere in their support for the band. I really enjoy their set, and when they announce that they’re selling their new CD for only $5, I decide to search them out later in the merch tent and pick up a copy. It ends up being the first CD I buy at Cornerstone, and—significantly, as someone pretty devoted to vinyl—the first CD I’ve bought in two years.

3:30 pm: I end up back in the Sanctuary Tent, where the Day of Metal is in full swing, in time to catch The Burial. They’re easy to classify as metal/screamo, and their Myspace page classifies them as “Christian / metal / death metal,” which is semantically confusing, to say the least. This band isn’t as tight as The Overseer, but I get the sense that they have more passion for what they’re doing. They’re definitely not amateur, however, and the lead guitarist—a guy named Todd, I find out later—has some really good licks. The tent is mostly populated by metalheads, young and old alike. Today there’s also a small merch corner here specializing in Christian metal CDs and t-shirts, and the graphic design isn’t different at all from what I’ve seen outside of the Christian scene: gothic lettering, fantasy scenes, all black, and so on.

Near the end of the set, the band takes a break between songs to talk a little bit about their beliefs, and why they’re at Cornerstone. It’s mostly Todd speaking, and he’s reminding people to fight against letting the Devil inside (both individually and communally), to allow God to be a part of the festival experience, and to engage in conversation with and learn from each other. He quotes a Bible verse—“seek ye first the kingdom of God”—and also claims that this music, this fellowship, this gig, “this is our sanctuary, this is our worship.” It leaves me wondering how worshipful crushingly loud and aggressive metal can actually be—Christian metal this abrasive is a new experience for me—and what about the circle pit in here, is that also worship? The band then encourages the audience to get more physically engaged with the music: “Don’t worry about looking foolish while headbanging,” Todd says, “because the only one watching who matters is God, and He doesn’t care how you look.” The audience appears to be receptive to the music—it’s hard to escape when the volume can be physically felt—but what about the message? Like most death metal and grindcore, the lyrics are practically unintelligible, and were it not for the between-song preaching and witnessing, the nature of the band’s message as Christian would probably not be very clear at all. Nevertheless, I’m intrigued, and make a note to check out the Bible study they’re leading the next morning, and perhaps another set if I can. I wander around the merch tents afterwards, eat some more food, and follow the crowd out to the Main Stage.

5:45 pm: I don’t really know what to expect of the Main Stage, but I quickly see that it’s probably what I should have expected based on other festival experiences: a huge pro music festival stage with an extension that bisects the crowd, like I’ve seen at Lollapalooza, nestled at the bottom of a bowl like Alpine Valley. It’s got a huge video screen, pro sound tent with spotlights, multiple cameras (including a remote arm), a number of concession tents, and a merch tent. At the crest of the hill are another couple of concession tents. There are tons of people milling about the stage on foot, lots of people spread out in lawn chairs, behind the crowd, and many more on blankets sitting on the hillside. Oh, and golf carts—apparently the Main Stage is a sufficiently long distance from the campgrounds (maybe a half mile?) to prompt some people to drive their golf carts out here, and said golf carts are parked both inside the bowl at the bottom of an access road (which continues along behind the stage for load-in/out) and at the crest of the hill—some people even watch the show from inside the golf carts. It’s rather humorous.

As I walk up to the crest of the hill, I see a small group giving away food: they have a huge pot of tomato soup cooking, they’re making four grilled cheese sandwiches at a time over a camping grill, and just giving the food away. I’m one of many people taking them up on their generosity. The group cooking and serving the food is fairly young, likely late teens and early 20s, and I ask one of the guys why they’re doing this. He says that they’re part of a Bible study group from Quincy IL (only about one hour away) and they just decided to do something nice for everyone. He doesn’t go out of his way to witness or preach to me, and this is my first taste of unconditional Cornerstone generosity.

The first Main Stage band is Capital Lights, an unremarkable pop/rock group clearly enjoying themselves. I took no notes about their music, which means I was unimpressed, but I did note how they’re being explicit with their faith: the lead singer stops at one point, and says “I know this is a Christian festival, but not everyone knows what that means”—and apparently what it means is that the band has a “deeper purpose,” and that “each one of us is deeply in love with Jesus Christ.” He continues talking a little bit about what it means to have Jesus in your life, and ends by appealing to the audience: “If you’re here today and you don’t understand that [Jesus]…” then come talk to the band, talk to those around you, and find out what Christ means to those who have come to Cornerstone for fellowship.

6:30 pm: KJ-52 takes the stage. The “52” in his stage name comes from the parable of Jesus feeding the masses with five loaves of bread and two fish. This is bland white boy party rap, totally clean, inoffensive, and deadly boring. He does do a lot of crowd interaction, getting people to dance, throwing complementary souvenirs out, and convincing the crowd that they’ll end up on his video blog, but there isn’t much musical substance to back it up. I can’t really tell how this fits into Cornerstone, both musically—this is the only hip-hop I actually hear all week—and philosophically: he only mentions his faith in passing, and his music doesn’t really seem to be inspired by his faith, aside from staying away from potentially offensive language. Perhaps that’s all it takes—he’s okay because he’s clean?

8:00 pm: Red. Not much to say other than they’re bland hard rock, stuff you hear a million times a day on modern rock radio, without anything special. The highlight is a straightforward cover of Duran Duran’s “Ordinary World” (off of the 1993 eponymous “wedding album”), complete with a note-by-note solo. Inoffensive and utterly forgettable.

During set changes, which last a good 20–25 minutes, commercials are broadcast on the giant screen. Here’s a list of the commercials I remember:

  • Nutrilite, some type of health supplement promoted by Amway.
  • Compassion, an organization that allows you to sponsor a child, providing them with food, water, medication, clothing, education, and—this must be stated—religion.
  • Green: Book Zero, a fantasy novel that concludes a series by Ted Dekker. I’m intrigued enough to google it later, but annoyed enough by the never-ending promotion that I don’t even bother reading the website to know what the book and series are about. The commercial references timeless series that present humanity’s ethical battles as fantasy, including both C.S. Lewis and Tolkein. I doubt Dekker is even remotely as good.
  • The band Dekree. Based on the commercial alone, I easily predict I will absolutely hate this band.
  • Buy your tickets for next year’s Cornerstone at the merch tent! Because the best souvenir is the one that brings you back next year. Guaranteed to get the best prices by purchasing at the fest.
  • Also, check out Cornerstone online to relive some of your favorite moments through their carefully selected and screened photos and videos. Not once did I see someone who looked like a staff photographer or videographer in any of the tents and at any of the gigs I attended. Needless to say, they certainly didn’t appear at the generator stages. So, the documented Cornerstone, who’s festival is that one? Documentation—both formal and informal—provides yet another set of perspective streams to consider.
  • HM magazine

10:30 pm: Throughout the evening, the changing size of the standing crowd down at the stage and the ratio of people walking down the hill vs. those walking up provide a good gauge on the relative popularity of the Main Stage bands. The last one of the night is definitely the most anticipated—although the Main Stage crowd clearly anticipated Relient K, my notes are minimal, which indicates that I wasn’t very into this band. I’m rather tired by this time of the evening, and the band didn’t really excite me. People around me talking about the band excitedly—Relient K haven’t played Cornerstone in a few years: last year they were on Warped Tour, and the year before their bus broke down (and apparently burst into flames?) on the way here. The band does talk about their faith a bit more than the other bands tonight. Their music is inoffensive pop-punk, just the type of safe stuff I would want my kids to listen to if I were a parent. I don’t know any of their songs or records, and make a note—I’ll be making a lot of these notes—to check them out when I get home. One thing that does charm me is their tribute to The Office, complete with a short original melody and then a cover of the theme song itself. “We wrote a love song to a television show,” lead singer Matthew gushes, “which I think everyone should do, at least five times in their life.”

Midnight: After the Relient K set, I walk back over to the Encore 2 stage to see Copeland on my sister’s recommendation. There’s a lot of buzz for the other band playing tonight, Austrian Death Machine, and later when I’m leaving they’re tent—it sounds absolutely brutal. My ears are already killing me, and my head’s hurting—I’ll end up taking some Advil for a headache in the morning—so sticking with Copeland was a good choice. It’s a lot mellower, emo/indie rock, and the audience seems content to chill out after the long first day of Cornerstone. I stick around for about forty minutes before deciding I need the sleep more than I need to hear the band. If I wasn’t alone, it might be a different story, and at the end of the first day I’m definitely regretting not having come with someone. I haven’t really spoken to anyone all day, and I make a resolution to have at least five conversations with strangers over the next couple of days. I drive back to the dorms and do my best to fall asleep, but it’s freezing—the air conditioning is on full-blast, and there’s apparently no way to turn it off. I sleep fitfully because of the chill (having only brought a single fleece blanket), but wake up refreshed and ready to attack Cornerstone for Day 2.

[More posts on Cornerstone Festival 2009]

DJ Mandrew on CHIRPradio.org: 2/5/10 playlist

February 5th, 2010

I really felt good about today’s show. I tried to get a good mix going, I’m really digging the new stuff in rotation right now, and I even did some prep earlier in the week, basically dumping songs to a Traktor playlist as I listened to albums at home or work. I think it sounded good. What do you think? Any suggestions for next week?

11:57AM T. Rex Bang A Gong (Get It On) from Electric Warrior (A&M)

11:54AM Weston Feelings Stupit Feelings from A Real-Life Story of Teenage Rebellion (Gern Blandsten)

11:52AM British Sea Power Something Wicked from The Decline of British Sea Power (Rough Trade)

11:48AM Tegan and Sara Don’t Rush from Sainthood (Sire)

11:43AM Tristeza Memphis Emphasis from Spine and Sensory (Makoto)

11:39AM LCD Soundsystem Daft Punk is Playing At My House from LCD Soundsystem (DFA/EMI)

11:35AM Four Tet She Just Likes to Fight from There is Love in You (Domino)

11:29AM Smith, Elliott Coming Up Roses from Elliott Smith (Kill Rock Stars)

11:26AM Espers Meridian from Espers III (Drag City)

11:24AM Pedro the Lion Of Minor Prophets and Their Prostitute Wives from It’s Hard to Find a Friend (Made in Mexico)

11:17AM Scotland Yard Gospel Choir, The One Night Stand from And the Horse You Rode In On (Bloodshot)

11:15AM Cat Power (I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction from The Covers Album (Matador)

11:09AM Heligoats Water Towers on Fire from Goodness Gracious (Grey Day)

11:04AM Mineral Parking Lot from The Power of Failing (Crank!)

11:03AM Real Estate Atlantic City from Real Estate (Woodsist)

10:58AM Pavement Carrot Rope from Terror Twilight (Matador)

10:53AM Jawbox Reel from For Your Own Special Sweetheart (Atlantic)

10:47AM Spoon Nobody Gets Me But You from Transference (Merge)

10:45AM Union of a Man and a Woman, The Are Your New Shoes Fit For the New Dance? from The Sound of the Union of a Man and a Woman (Jagjaguwar)

10:38AM Surfer Blood Take It Easy from Astro Coast (Kanine)

10:35AM Buzzcocks What Do I Get? from Singles Going Steady (IRS)

10:30AM Conn, Bobby Love Let Me Down from King For a Day (Thrill Jockey)

10:25AM Bjork Aeroplane from Debut (Island)

10:22AM Bon Iver Skinny Love from For Emma, Forever Ago (Jagjaguwar)

10:18AM Barwick, Juliana Anjos from Florine EP (Florid)

10:13AM Midlake The Courage of Others from The Courage of Others (Bella Union)

10:10AM Quasi Little Lord Fontleroy from The Sword of God (Touch & Go)

10:06AM Constantines Working Full-Time from Tournament of Hearts (Sub Pop)

10:00AM Canasta Sympathetic Vibrations from We Were Set Up (Self Released)

9:58AM Magnetic Fields, The Seduced and Abandoned from Realism (Nonesuch)

9:54AM Eno, Brian & David Byrne One Fine Day from Everything That Happens Will Happen Today (Todomundo)

9:49AM Fugazi Arpeggiator Demo from Instrument (Dischord)

9:45AM Calexico Writer’s Minor Holiday from Carried to Dust (Quarterstick)

9:41AM Maximo Rodriguez y Las Estrellas Panamenos Chevere Que Chevere from Panama! 3 (Soundway)

9:30AM Sound in Action Trio One Up, One Down (For John Coltrane) from Gate (Atavistic)

9:27AM Yeasayer Rome from Odd Blood (Secretly Canadian)

9:21AM June of 44 The Dexterity of Luck from Four Great Points (Quarterstick)

9:15AM Migala Fortune’s Show Of Our Last from Arde (Acuarela)

9:12AM Neon Indian Ephemeral Artery from Psychic Chasms (Lefse)

9:07AM Tortoise the suspension bridge at iguazu falls from TNT (Thrill Jockey)

Takin’ it back: Rainer Maria’s Long Knives Drawn

February 4th, 2010

Rainer Maria reached full maturity on Long Knives Drawn (Polyvinyl, 2003)their final record, Catastrophe Keeps Us Together (2006), is more of a postscript to their recording career. Caithlin DeMarrais is 100% the frontwoman here—guitarist Kyle Fischer’s vocal contributions are practically non-existent—and this is decidedly her record. Gone is the sentimental lyrical catharsis; instead, DeMarrais sounds alternately outraged and detached on songs like “Long Knives” and “Ears Ring.” Emotion isn’t fully expunged however—this is still an emo band, after all—and songs like “The Awful Truth of Loving” and “Connecticut Catholic” might have been more appropriate on an earlier album. This record also marks the height of their instrumental interplay—Rainer Maria are truly a band on this record: DeMarrais’s bass is tighter than ever; Fischer’s guitar is energetic and manic yet restrained and in lock-step with Will Kuehn’s drumming, which has progressed miles from the workmanlike technique of earlier recordings. While Rainer Maria never reached full pop maturity—Catastrophe went a bit further but didn’t quite nail it—Long Knives Drawn demonstrates that emo clichés don’t have to age poorly: this record acknowledges their fans’ investment without ignoring their maturity.

Road Trip Reminiscing

February 3rd, 2010

I think most of all, I miss the drives home.

Throughout high school and college, going to rock shows was an event. My friends and I had elaborate rules—no listening to any of the bands’ CDs the day of the show, whoever sits shotgun is required to stay awake on the ride home, and never stop to ask for directions—and the whole thing was an event requiring hours of phone calls and miles of emails to organize. Getting there and back was half the fun, especially if we were headed to a venue we’d never been to before. This was before ubiquitous cell phones, back when Mapquest was just as likely to dump you off at an abandoned junkyard in West Philly than it was to actually get you to the show on the other side of the city. This was also before cultural relativism set in, when my friends and I were militant about our musical preferences, policing ourselves (and our friends) for any inappropriate “popular” music leanings. We misidentified immature proselytization as pretentiousness, and in that guise it was easy to assume the moral higher ground against commoditized mass entertainment and those who fell for it. Perhaps it was our way of striking back at the “in” crowd, whoever they were—we had better taste, and that was more important than anything.

We listened to the best music in the world, and we knew it.

It’s going on ten thirteen years later, and shows are now quotidian. There’s little anticipation, even for big shows, and I’m much more likely to blow off a gig because I’m broke or tired (or both) than back when the lives of myself and everyone I knew revolved around the scene. Sure, I’m jaded to a certain extent, and I bet we all are: there are very few bands left that I absolutely must see before I die, and newer bands don’t excite me nearly as much as they used to, primarily because a) it seems like there are far more of them than there used to be, and b) I now have a larger frame of reference and find it much easier to dismiss new music as merely derivative. But there are also the prerequisites that come with being somewhat of an adult, responsibilities that will only grow. It’s hard to admit that there are simply better or more important things to do than head to a show, things like: cooking dinner, catching up on sleep, not spending money I don’t have, reading that book that’s been sitting on my nightstand untouched for almost a month, visiting with family, finishing work, hanging out with loved ones, and drinking booze in the comfort and safety of my own home.

But probably the biggest change is that going to a show is no longer the zenith of a night out. It’s an everyday event, alongside grabbing a beer with friends, checking my post office box, picking up a new loaf of bread, depositing a paycheck, and watching Roseanne reruns. I don’t spend the whole week looking forward to Friday night anymore. Heading to the club—which is now merely twenty minutes away, instead of an hour and a half—is no longer a great adventure. And there’s always something to do before and after that deemphasizes the show itself. You might think that I take live music for granted, and to a certain extent I probably do—how many times have I justified missing a touring band simply by thinking that I’ll have a number of other chances to see them again?—but I also think that this familiarity has made the music more valuable, as well. Namely: back when heading out to a show was such a primary experience and the focus of days of preparation and weeks of anticipation, the music itself was practically non-important, secondary instead to the process—no, the exercise—of getting there and back, seeing and being seen, building camaraderie and community based on shared experiences. Now, the simple fact that I choose to see a band perform when I have so many other options (both in terms of other bands playing that night and in terms of doing something else entirely) is a reflection of my interest in the music itself, not in the show experience. In other words, when I’m at a show now, it’s because that’s what I’ve chosen to do over many other things competing for my attention.

When you’re young, everything’s a spectacle, practically an experiential requirement. When you’re older, it’s a conscious choice.

There are things that I miss, sure. The absolute surety that I’ll see someone I know at a show, simply because I always see someone I know. The prospect of making a new friend—boy or girl—based on this single shared experience. The feeling that I’m experiencing something huge and important, and knowing that my life is better than that of everyone who’s not at the show. Having that bond in common with the couple hundred other people there. Knowing that there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than at that very show. But most of all, I miss the drives home.

Takin’ it back: Rainer Maria’s A Better Version of Me

February 2nd, 2010

Better Version of Me (Polyvinyl, 2001) marks the midpoint of Rainer Maria’s recording career in a number of ways: not only is it the first album recorded since moving en masse from Madison to Brooklyn (a move documented on their Atlantic EP, 1999), but their sound is in the middle of shifting from the precious Midwest emo of their early career (which reached its apex on 1999’s Look Now Look Again) to the glossier riff-driven pop-rock of their later career. Songs like “Spit and Fire” and “Hell and High Water” benefit from being caught in the middle. Still, after the complexity of Look Now, Better Version feels simultaneously rushed and indulgent, especially on “The Seven Sisters” and “Atropine.” Kyle Fischer has started to rescind his share of vocal duties to focus more on the guitar, and while longtime fans bemoaned this change as a dramatic shift in the band’s character, the energy he brings to his instrument here more than make up for the loss of his voice—listen to “Thought I Was” for a good example of what the band gains in his guitar, and compare against “The Contents of Lincoln’s Pockets” for what they lose in his singing. Caithlin DeMarrais’s voice is stronger and more tuneful than previous releases, and she admirably carries songs like “Artificial Light” and “Ceremony.” The lyrics also continue to mature—goodbye undergraduate musings, hello narratives—and Better Version is the first evidence that Rainer Maria is a band who asks their audience to grow with them.

Cornerstone 2009: Day 1, Part 2

February 1st, 2010

1:30 pm: After eating through some of the food I brought and exploring the Cornerstone campsites a bit, I find my way to Main St., where all of the generator stages are located. The first one I walk past is rather professional-looking—I later find out it’s the Solace tent, organized by a music promoter based out of Joplin, Missouri—and the music sounds interesting, so I walk in to and catch the last half of The Overseer’s set. This band plays a really tight and melodic version of screamo, with dual vocals from the frontman (Anthony) and guitarist (Darren). The band’s sound reminds me of Jersey faves Thursday, and is much better than I expected. I’m not really sure what I expected, to be honest—everything I’ve read and talked about with others has prepared me for the fact that, by and large, these underground Christian bands are just as good (or just as bad) as their secular counterparts. Essentially, their faith doesn’t necessarily detract from the musicianship, technique, songwriting ability, etc., although the message itself may prove to be a distraction to listeners with different priorities. Nor does the faith message necessarily cover for poor musicianship—not once over the course of the festival do I get the feeling that fans cut bands slack just because their message is positive. If anything, the fans are even more demanding than at other concerts or festivals—after all, there are literally dozens of bands every day for attendees to watch. That said, this band is blisteringly good, they put on a great show—especially given the constraints of the tiny stage—the sound is good in the tent, there are a few kids slam dancing, and everyone seems to be having a good time. At the end of the show, they ask people to come hang out and talk with them afterwards (and they seem really sincere about it!), mention a couple other sets they have lined up at Cornerstone, and quickly pack up their gear—the next band is scheduled to go on in 10–15 minutes.

Okay, so here’s the deal with the generator stages, based on what I observed, read on the Cornerstone website, and heard from attendees. Cornerstone Festival itself books several music tents and the Main Stage, presenting up to 5 or 6 musical acts at any given moment. For a number of years this was just fine, but apparently there was a big hunger for more bands. I don’t know whether or not this demand came from the fans or the bands—it was probably a mix of the two, and the distinction doesn’t even really matter any more—but at some point, people realized that they could bring a generator, plug in a PA system and a few amps, and play throughout the campsites. This went on unregulated for a while, until it got a little out of hand and Cornerstone was forced to bring it in check.

The way it works now: anyone who wants to setup a generator stage officially arranges it with Cornerstone. They apply for a free permit, pay a fee if merch will be sold, and book one of the (presumably limited) generator stage spots. These stages range the gamut of professionalism, from an amateur bunch of kids playing on the grass with only the microphone running through the PA to a full professional production, complete with tent, stage, live sound console, and full miking. The bands range the gamut of professionalism as well, although in terms of style, there are almost uniformly heavy—I hear lots of punk, hardcore, metalcore, metal, screamo, etc. while strolling the drag. Practically all of the generator stages are along Main Street, and you can walk down that road and hear a dozen different bands playing at once. According to the Cornerstone website, 31 generator stages had pre-registered for the 2009 festival.

The stages usually have a whiteboard with that day’s performance schedule written up, which they change daily. Some bands come to Cornerstone not having any performance time yet booked, and quickly network with generator stages to get one, two, or more gigs over the course of the week. These bands are rabid self-promoters, too: they drive around in golf carts with bullhorns, they hang up flyers literally everywhere (including papering the porto-johns), they walk around with handmade signs announcing their next gig, they network with other bands, they pass out flyers and handbills, they offer free food or drinks (the band following The Overseer at Solace promised free Gatorade, but I didn’t stick around to confirm), they get their friends to run PR for them, and so on. It all feels very spur-of-the-moment, and promotes the serendipitous discovery of music, far from the structured schedules and official set times of other festivals.

The generator stages actually start hosting bands before the official Cornerstone schedule starts—they can start as early as noon on Monday, while the Cornerstone schedule doesn’t kickoff until Wednesday. During Cornerstone, Wednesday through Saturday, the generator stages have to end by 6:00 pm, presumably so as not to conflict with the Main Stage and other higher-profile evening acts. The sheer number and quality of the generator stages is such that you could spend all day, everyday listening to bands without once stepping into an official Cornerstone tent. With the generator stages and the fellowship I experienced and observed in the campsites, I definitely got a sense that there’s not one but two Cornerstones—the official one run by JPUSA and festival staff, and the community-run one that appears and grows organically, sustained by festival attendees with no (or very little) profit motive (the generator stages can’t charge admission, though some charge bands a small fee to play, especially if they’re allowed to sell merch).

Anyway, after The Overseer, I spend some time walking down Main St. and checking out the various generator stages. I’ve honestly never heard of any of these bands, but I get the impression that very few people have heard of the bands playing the generator stages—these are not well-known acts but young bands with local audiences. Later in the festival, I hear bands discuss their history with Cornerstone—many of them start out playing generator stages their first few times at the festival, but eventually graduate to the official stages after spending time building up their audience. I ultimately wander into one of the official stages—the Label Showcase/Encore 2 Stage—and a band called Take the Sky are playing, but I’m not really impressed.

[More posts on Cornerstone Festival 2009]

Last week on Twitter:

January 31st, 2010

Takin’ it back: Rainer Maria’s Look Now Look Again

January 30th, 2010

If you were to divide Rainer Maria’s recording career in two, Look Now Look Again (Polyvinyl, 1999) would be the apex of the first half: on this album, they perfected the sound they had been working towards on the self-titled EP and Past Worn Searching; later releases moved away from the emo and established a more accessible pop aesthetic. This was the first Rainer Maria album I heard, and still the one that I return to the most often. For me, it’s almost a magical recording: it has a perfect blend of musical elements I was drawn to at the time—sensitive, fragile vocals; not-quite-subtle dynamic shifts; healthy mix of upbeat vs. low-key songs—plus it became, for all intents and purposes, a soundtrack to a young adult who was rapidly maturing and facing grown-up decisions. It’s not a record I can be objective about; I know the faults—it’s overwrought, the singing is quite terrible at times (sometimes it’s more like caterwauling), the music gets repetitive over the course of the record, and there’s more spit than sparkle (especially when compared to later releases)—but wasn’t this true of all emo music in the late 1990s? Rainer Maria wasn’t really doing things much differently from other bands at the time—unless you count having a female singer—but in their chosen niche, they were pretty good at what they did.

The album opens with “Rise,” a delicate song that often served as an encore in live sets. Indeed, one of the reasons why this record speaks so well to me is because I’ve seen this band perform these songs at over 20 shows. “Breakfast of Champions” was always a celebratory live performance, as was “I’m Melting!” The one-two punch of “Planetary” and “Broken Radio”—a pair of songs almost always played together live, as on record—always brings a smile, although the lyrics make me cringe more now than a decade ago: “And I’m certain if I drive into these trees / It’ll make less of a mess / Than you’ve made of me” sings Caithlin DeMarrais, intoning a confessional aesthetic that was all but de rigueur a few years later, when emo groups like Bright Eyes and Dashboard Confessional reached success orders of magnitude greater than what Rainer Maria ever attained. The album ebbs and flows around the high points, and although the band made great strides in their musicianship and production in the coming years, I’m pretty sure I’m not alone in thinking that the best songs in the later recordings can’t hold a candle to the worst ones on Look Now Look Again.