trying to figure out our lives

Outside Lands is not my favorite thing, but the accompanying night shows certainly are, and with Denise's help, I was able to get into the one gig I wanted to see: Broken Social Scene.

Broken Social Scene, the Independent, Aug. 10, 2018

Can you ever seen enough of a band? Sometimes! But certain performers/artists will always bring me in, and Broken Social Scene is one such example. This collective comes and goes, and for that reason, I'm inclined to catch them as much as I can. But it comes down to the music: They've created some of my favorite tunes and put on a fantastic show to boot. I'll show up as often as I can.

These night shows are supposed to be a complement to the festival sets, but it's up to the musicians to decide how to address the difference. I'm biased of course, but Wilco's all-acoustic set at the same venue a few years back was one of my favorites. It was also a special occasion, as the band went with its customary electric show at the festival itself the next day.

Broken Social Scene didn't opt for such a stark difference, but the changes were more notable in the setlist. Tonight was the night for deep cuts and rarer tracks ... after a rough start in which the band couldn't seem to get on the same page or find its energy. After a handful of songs that sounded fine to me, Kevin declared that they were going to play every song like it was the finale. That seemed to do the trick!

No question my favorite track was "Shampoo Suicide," which rarely gets an airing. I can't understand a word of this song, but it's dreamy and alluring, and I can get lost in the layers of sound. Andrew Whiteman got another turn in the spotlight with his showcase "Fire Eye'd Boy." Furthermore, his better half Ariel Engle performed a slinky, seductive track from La Force.

More rarities were a couple of tracks from Forgiveness Rock Record, "Texico Bitches" and "Sweetest Kill." The former has the kind of chorus you want to yell as loud as you can, and it didn't hurt that Kevin chose to sing this song while mingling with the audience. The latter, meanwhile, is Broken Social Scene at its sultriest. The beauty of the combo is that Broken Social Scene can do both.

We got a number of mainstays too, including "Stars and Sons" and the always affecting "Anthems for a 17-Year-Old Girl." Maybe it was the size of the venue, the late hour, the early frustrations, or the general state of the world, but "Anthems" was even more moving than usual. I hope they never lose it (and I doubt they will).

I should also note that this was a true night show, with the tunes starting sometime after 10 pm, I guess to allow the day's fest-goers to attend. It was exhausting after a week of work and commuting, but it was all worth it. As I understand it, Broken Social Scene has extended this tour all across the country, and I don't blame them one bit. I'd love to see them again, but if it doesn't happen, at least I took advantages of the sporadic opportunities.

See also:
» i'd be lying if i said it wasn't easy

it's time that we grow old and do some shit

Hey gang, I'm not dead yet, and despite my reduced concert schedule, I couldn't resist the opportunity to see Broken Social Scene in its latest incarnation at the Fox Theater in Oakland. Oh Canada!

Broken Social Scene, Fox Theater, October 26, 2017

In perhaps my favorite episode of 30 Rock, "Cougars," Liz Lemon goes on a date with a much younger man, and when he tries to convince her to hit an afterparty, she pleads, "I'm 37, don't make me go to Brooklyn." As Liz Lemon is my spirit animal, I know exactly how she feels, except I'm no longer 37 and substitute Oakland for Brooklyn. You have to make a pretty good case for me to venture over the Bay Bridge (or, more precisely, under it, via BART) for a show. Broken Social Scene offers a solid argument for the trek.

Last time Broken Social Scene came around, they were on ostensibly their last tour, but even then, they admitted that they weren't so much breaking up as taking a breather. Even if they hadn't said it, I would've assumed that was the case, what with the modern trend of bands reuniting again ... and again. In addition, I imagine that's the nature of such a loose collective. Band members are free to come and go to pursue their own projects, so you can't bank on a set schedule. In any case, I was glad to see them back. Even if the band hadn't returned, I would've been entirely happy with my last memory of them: a lengthy, sprawling show, filled with guest musicians, friendly tributes, and family shout-outs that fell slightly short of a free-for-all.

In the years since, Broken Social Scene hasn't pared back much, as far as I can tell. I didn't bother to count the warm bodies on stage, but most of the principals were present, including Kevin Drew, Brendan Canning, and Andrew Whiteman. Often the question with Broken Social Scene is which female collaborators will show up; tonight, only Ariel Engle, who happens to be married to Andrew Whiteman and plays a major role on the new record Hug of Thunder. Personally, it's not a huge concern for me, and Ariel has a lovely voice in her own right.

The band mixed up the song selection, with old favorites such as "Fire Eye'd Boy" and the beloved closer "It's All Gonna Break," as well as choice tracks from the latest album. "Hug of Thunder" is the standout track for me, and it's kind of a no-brainer to do "Protest Song," but the big takeaway for me were the Forgiveness Rock Record tunes. Maybe I didn't give it enough time? Because hearing "Texico Bitches" and "World Sick" reminded me that album has great songs.

Of course I'm going to go back to You Forgot It in People again and again because it remains one of my favorite records of this century. Fortunately, the band seems to like it too, as a significant portion of the show was devoted to those tracks, including the opener "KC Accidental" and the closers "Lover's Spit" and "Cause = Time." By the way, I admit I often can't remember the titles -- much less the words -- to Broken Social Scene songs, but in the case of "KC Accidental" (for one) I can easily hum the bass line and guitar track. Needless to say, I love it. Ariel handled the vocals for "Almost Crimes," and the two women from the opening band Belle Game joined her for "Anthems for a Seventeen-Year-Old Girl," which I'm glad to see has been acknowledged as a modern masterpiece. Brendan took his usual turn on "Stars and Sons" as well (another fantastic bass line, in case you hadn't noticed).

The last however many times I've seen Broken Social Scene, they've lingered past the usual curfew, and this show was no different, even if not quite to the lengths of the marathon at the Fillmore (or the Warfield, now that I think of it). Kevin polled us on which song we wanted to hear: the aforementioned "Lover's Spit" or "Cause = Time." As noted above, we got both, which isn't much of a surprise considering the band's more-is-more approach to performance.

For "Lover's Spit," Kevin came down from the stage and wandered into the crowd, even giving hugs to several fans, kind of like a Canadian version of Bono, minus the pomp (though he touched on political themes, as he reminded us that Canada continues to support the United States, especially in such trying times). I had voted for "Lover's Spit" because the song's majesty and drama always get me, but I admit the energy of "Cause = Time" seals up a show much better, and it lets us sing "fuck the cause" at the top of our lungs. Oh, and I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the Fox Theater staff, who helped Kevin over the barrier and back as if they'd been practicing it all tour. They were so smooth.

Broken Social Scene managed to rotate in two different sets of brass players, which seems excessive even for Broken Social Scene, but more has always been more with them. As always, a grand night with my favorite Canadian collective 🇨🇦 🍁🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

A post shared by pneyu (@pneyu) on Oct 27, 2017 at 8:52pm PDT

Speaking of Kevin, how underrated is he? We tend to think of Broken Social Scene as a collective, and if anyone gets individual attention, it's usually the female singers who pass through the group, but you have to give credit to the guy who is the glue of the band. Also, his voice is damn good. In fact, I almost never get FOMO, but the pangs hit me not long ago when he joined Zach Galifianakis for a handful of shows at Largo.

I'll end with perhaps the most Broken Social Scene -- er, scene I may have yet witnessed in the Bay Area. They started the show with Antibalas as the horn section, but the group had to rush off to its own show at the New Parish in Oakland after a couple of numbers. Somehow, they found another brass ensemble to help close out the show! I can't remember their name, but leave it to Broken Social Scene to up the ante. I can't wait to see how they top it next time they come back.

See also:
» the good times are killing me
» talking trash under your breath

the good times are killing me

On its own, the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass festival offers plenty of music, but there's a bonus: The tunes flows all over the city, with extra shows booked across town and the Bay Area. Broken Social Scene filled up the Fillmore for purportedly their final show, at least in North America and at least for a while. I don't want it to be true, but if they disappear for however long, I can safely say they left it all on the stage at the Fillmore.

Broken Social Scene, the Fillmore, October 1, 2011: I wasn't made for these times, in case you hadn't surmised from the week-long lag between the show and the publishing of this post. Knee-jerk responses, instant punditry, disdain by default -- I'm not comfortable with these habits. There's something about the slow burn of realization, when your sense memory mingles with personal revelations and hard-earned wisdom, and you wake up weeks, months, or even years later with a connection to the work that hadn't existed earlier. That's the story for Broken Social Scene, and now I flip to them on the iPod repeatedly.

Here's an unexpected twist: In 2011, I've seen more shows by Broken Social Scene than any other group, breaking the streak that band from Chicago has held for the last 108 (approximately) years. This is probably related to the aforementioned mania and my reduced concert attendance, but this is, after all, the band's farewell (for now) tour, and it's inevitable they'd hit their favorite towns before bowing out. Kevin Drew offered a little more insight into how they ended up in San Francisco -- and not Toronto -- for their swan song. He wisely heaped praise on our city, but also explained that their guest list at home would be unmanageable.

I can admit that the afternoon's Hardly Strictly Bluegrass slot was underwhelming, though it had less to do with the band and more with the circumstances. I would've hated to go out with that performance as my last memory of the group -- so it's a good thing I made it to the Fillmore. The show filled out all the holes in the festival set. Of course, Forgiveness Rock Record got plenty of love, but they also hit nearly every track off You Forgot It in People (minus two). Alas, "Lover's Spit" was sacrificed, but I got to hear "Shampoo Suicide" for the second time that day. They stuffed their already full agenda with such live staples as "Fire Eye'd Boy" and the customary closer "It's All Gonna Break." According to the friendly and knowledgeable fellow behind me, "Hotel" is a rare track, but they played it back in April -- maybe he just missed the wrong shows.

Broken Social Scene is known for its revolving roster, and tonight's lineup welcomed some old friends, including Amy and Evan from Stars, who got a solo spotlight in the middle of the show. In one of his many ramblings, Kevin hugged Amy tight and told us they'd known each other for 22 years. And in another tribute to longevity, he mentioned his parents, married for 44 years, were in the audience. We cheered them, only to be told he'd pointed us to the wrong balcony.



The big story in terms of special guests is probably Isaac Brock, who joined in for three Modest Mouse songs. He joked about delivering a eulogy for a living entity and playing the "first annual" last Broken Social Scene show ever. In return, Kevin gushed about his high regard for Modest Mouse. When Isaac returned for the encore, he also tried out a new voice on us -- apparently, in the persona of a New York-based comic.

"The World at Large" has been a part of Broken Social Scene's rotation for a while now, but the penultimate title, "The Good Times Are Killing Me," proved newer and more problematic. I lost track of how many times they restarted the song before they found the right key, but it finally gelled, after Kevin's persistent protests. In fact, though I've seen Kevin step up as the front man many times now, I'm still fascinated by his displays of leadership. For example, during "World at Large," he almost conducted the horn section into their cues.



Back to "Good Times" -- I thought this might be the end of the show, but instead, after the instruments were set down, Kevin led an a cappella chorus until the entire band returned for the final track. Brendan Canning looked exhausted at this point, but they soldiered on. And though we in the audience has been sweating it out for almost three hours, we heartily welcomed them back. Thankfully, Kevin had reminded us to stay hydrated and offered us a couple of stretch breaks during the gig itself.



There are so many details I can't fit into this account or even remember at this point, just because every moment felt epic. I lost track of the encores -- or the afterparty, as Kevin called it -- and I can't tell you how many false endings we heard as the band seemed to debate whether to cinch up a song. Broken Social Scene has always teetered between virtuoso turns and imminent collapse, and the same can be said of this gig as a whole, but somehow it works. I've been to a handful of (purported) last gigs ever, and as with at least one of its counterparts, I can safely say we couldn't ask more of them.

See also:
» one day like this a year
» talking trash under your breath

one day like this a year

Rocktober has arrived, and in San Francisco, that means Hardly Strictly Bluegrass is in session. This marks the 11th year of the festival, and by those standards, I'm a relative newcomer, but I can't imagine my year without this grand gathering. Also, it gives me a reason to never move out of the Richmond District.

Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival, September 30 to October 23, 2011: Certainly, there's more than one way to navigate a free, sprawling music festival that's intended to mix genres, audiences, and generations, but I do it the only way I know how: by trying to impose some order on the vast list of activities and expanse of land. This year, it meant not really sleeping Friday night and hopping on a 7 am flight so that I could get home, pull myself together, and wander down to Golden Gate Park by noon.

From there, the day became a little easier, and I managed to flit between stages for a number of bands. For me, Robyn Hitchcock kicked off the festival at the Rooster Stage. Once again, I didn't make it to the field proper; the hillside was just fine, and this time, the sound was great -- or maybe it was the simple acoustic setup.



Robyn started out by himself with "Cynthia Mask", but he was first joined by Abigail Washburn, then by Gillian Welch and David Rawlings. The quartet carried off a fine selection of Robyn's back catalog, from his work with the Egyptians ("Queen Elvis," "Balloon Man") to the Venus 3 ("Ole Tarantula"). Robyn even worked up the San Francisco angle with a nod to Magnum Force in "(A Man's Gotta Know His Limitations) Briggs" and with the concluding Grateful Dead cover ("Candyman"). Little did I know it wouldn't be the last of Robyn over the weekend.

Following Robyn's set, I headed out to catch another British icon: Hugh Laurie. Look, I don't typically favor actor/musicians, but I'm not automatically opposed to them either, and no, I'm not trying to cover my ass in case certain thespians decide to hit the road. Heck, I actually like She & Him.

But about Hugh Laurie -- first of all, the crowd was huge for the Towers of Gold stage, usually one of the less populated areas of the park. I heard more than one person yelling out for Dr. House (I've never watched the show myself), and at least one woman admitted she had no idea he was British until that very moment. This is all superfluous, though. Hugh Laurie's performance was surprisingly good. A fellow next to me likened Hugh's first number to Cab Calloway, and his voice was quite expressive. His backing band was solid, and overall, they did a great job.

I ran out for a little bit but returned in time to hear snippets of the Kris Kristofferson/Merle Haggard set before finding an inadequate spot for Broken Social Scene. I haven't cooled on the band since their last date in San Francisco, but as this was my casual day and I had a ticket for their show at the Fillmore the same evening, I didn't want to squeeze my way up front. Instead, I found a spot in the midfield. My mistake -- the chatter and the traffic were distracting, though I guess you have to expect that of a free event.



Broken Social Scene put together a standard festival set, heavy with selections from the most recent record. However, they still managed to surprise me with the inclusion of several seminal You Forgot It in People tracks, including "Shampoo Suicide." I thought for sure I'd never get to hear this one live again and, more important for my blog, to publicly air my pretentious rock critic theory: Come on, people, it's totally a cross between Fleetwood Mac's "Gypsy" and Malcolm McLaren's "Madame Butterfly" -- and that's high praise!

After Broken Social Scene, I took a swing through the rest of the park. Along the way, I heard one song in Gillian Welch's set, but fortunately, it was my favorite track from the new record, "Hard Times." I eventually ended up back at the Rooster Stage overlook for a portion of the Punch Brothers, who also covered a song from the latest Gillian Welch album. In the past, I've heard them do "Wayside/Back in Time," but they've added "Down Along the Dixie Line" to their repertoire, sped up about five-fold. The Punch Brothers may have been the only bluegrass artists I saw during this entire bluegrass-leaning festival, and in case I had any doubts about the genre's popularity, the dancing crowds inside the rooster pen dispelled all such thoughts.

That was Saturday, but Sunday was another story, with one goal: Elbow! With Julie's early foothold, we were able to make steady progress through Dr. John and Devotchka until we were at the front for the headliners, and thanks to the convenient PA setup, we heard Emmylou Harris join Buddy Miller for his set, as well as Bob Mould's show on the abutting stage. I love it when a plan comes together.

According to my records, Elbow hasn't toured here in three years. They do well enough in England, but they're not exactly superstars, and obviously, their profile is lower in the United States. And let's not even raise the question of how they were booked for an ostensibly bluegrass festival. I'm willing to leave that stone unturned, but I was suspicious of the crowd that gathered at the rail for Elbow's set. However, through the simple act of reaching out and communicating, it turns out they were committed fans, even if -- ahem! -- many of them had never caught the band live before. (Bonus: They were really nice people too.) Hey, I feel like I haven't really seen a band until their fifth appearance anyway, so we were practically on the same level.

Elbow had an hour to cast their spell, but the magic took hold within seconds. I've said it before: Guy Garvey is charm incarnate, and his very presence immediately puts you at ease. He works the crowd like a champ, pointing and waving at far corners of the field, making connections with far-flung audience members. I wouldn't presume that the San Francisco audience is the first to receive such attention, but it still feels sincere. As usual, we were eating out of their hand, as well as lending our voices, whistles, and handclaps of support. According to Guy, the feelings were mutual, as he heaped praise on our city and the festival itself toward the end of their slot.

Elbow crafts dense, complex, and sprawling songs, and I wondered how much actual music we'd get to hear between Guy's lilting banter. Clearly, there was no way to represent their entire discography in this limited set, and as it turned out they favored the last couple of records. I don't think we heard a single early track, which is a small loss, but "Lippy Kids" managed to push a bunch of emotional buttons in me. Also, I have to admit The Seldom Seen Kid deserves as much attention as you can spare. For my favorite artists such as Elbow, more is always better, but Hardly Strictly Bluegrass will tide me over until the next headlining tour.



See also:
» throw those curtains wide
» talking trash under your breath
» don't get around much anymore

talking trash under your breath

The Coachella runoff is in full effect in the Bay Area, with a few particularly overbooked nights around town. Personally, I felt no such conflicts and even cut back on my concert plans. However, as with Noise Pop, I always feel a little disappointed when I don't hit at least one of the annual satellite shows. This year, Broken Social Scene's date at the Warfield fulfilled my goal.

Broken Social Scene, the Warfield, April 13, 2011: As this blog proves conclusively, I harbor long-standing fascinations with certain musicians, but they're the exceptions. The truth is most artists occupy a middle ground--I like their music but don't feel especially loyal to them. Then there's another trajectory: A band will make one or two albums that stay with me forever, and for that, they win my undying loyalty and affection, even if I never listen to anything from them again.



Broken Social Scene is starting to cement its place in that first category, but it wasn't always this way. On the one hand, I've listened to and enjoyed much of their catalog, but You Forgot It in People remains the record from their discography that I want buried with me in my memorial pyramid, even though this tidbit has a habit of slipping my mind. Maybe it has something to do with the nature of ever-changing collectives, where band members come and go, complicating that silly act of pinning your dreams, hopes, and schoolgirl crushes to any single person. Maybe it's their erratic recording schedule. Maybe it's because they're from Canada.

Nonetheless, I've now rediscovered its wonders twice, despite a burning love for it around the time of its release. Dammit, I put two songs from that album on mixes (back when I made mixes)! The first reawakening was kick-started by their performance at Outside Lands in 2008. More recently, they provided the soundtrack to a movie I can't get out of my brain (see earlier ode to Canadiana). This time, especially after the Warfield show, I think it's finally stuck.



For a period of several weeks this past winter, I was a moist-eyed, trembling-lipped commuter, ready to stream the waterworks to the sounds of "Anthem for a Seventeen-Year-Old Girl" or "Shampoo Suicide," and convinced it was the soundtrack to my life. It's reached the point where I can vocalize all the instrumentation on certain songs, from the guitar solo to the bass line to the drumbeat. (Full disclosure: I can do this for several albums.) Bobby McFerrin has nothing to fear, but it's hard to resist the melodies embedded in the gorgeous instrumental swaths that mark so many Broken Social Scene songs. Also, it helps me embrace the tunes when I can't make out the damn lyrics!

This (re)immersion in Broken Social Scene's catalog hasn't exactly made me a connoisseur, but it's resulted in one major difference: For the first time, I was watching the band not for merely the spectacle or out of idle curiosity, but as an invested fan. With this revised outlook, the creative core of Kevin Drew, Brandon Canning, and Andrew Whiteman was particularly prominent, and since I still can't always figure out who handles the singing, it's nice to get visual confirmation of the lead vocals.

The horn section, at times showing off choreographed moves, was probably the biggest attention grabbers of the less permanent crew, but of course, it helped that they played against such a strong foundation. Last but not least, it'd be criminal to overlook Lisa Lobsinger, bringing the female voice that elevates critical portions of their catalog. Broken Social Scene has a stellar record in finding and nurturing amazing female singers; if history is anything to go by, keep an eye on Lisa.

This blog is clogged with accounts of earnest acoustic performances, and don't get me wrong--I love the heartfelt material, but one can't live on folk songs alone. Watching Broken Social Scene, I realized they deliver tunes that appeal to the head and the hair the brain and the booty. Sometimes it comes from a bubbly beat ("Stars and Sons," "Texico Bitches"), or it can be spelled out explicitly in the lyrics ("Lover's Spit," "Me and My Hand").

Then you hit the likes of "Hotel," which can easily take its place among the best sexy-time songs I've heard in a while. I don't know what the trending topics on Twitter were at the very moment the band played the song, but if #fuckmusic lit up the charts, you can thank the guy next for his contribution (according to what he told his friend). Coincidentally (or not), the song came after the band joked about Prince and Chaka Khan, even treating us to a a few beats from "Controversy."

Throughout the entire gig, the crowd had eaten up the band's every move, and the musicians responded in kind. Brendan Canning, for example, thanked the familiar faces in the audience, including the often forgotten balcony. He also invited everyone out to drinks afterward, though he didn't disclose the meeting space.

Kevin Drew, meanwhile, praised San Francisco for its longtime support and promised to play for as long as possible, as he said it would be Broken Social Scene's last show in town for a while. To that end, the band didn't bother leaving the stage before the encore and instead kept plugging away.

Play they did--Kevin had mentioned earlier in the set the expense of exceeding their allotted time, but he didn't appear to heed his own words, as the show ended around 11:15, or 15 minutes into overtime for the union crews (I think?). Also, though he'd been trying to keep his bronchitis at bay with tea and lozenges all night, Kevin's lungs finally gave out on "It's All Gonna Break," which he had to call off for, er, a song I didn't recognize. Whatever its title, this closing tune brought Kevin into the crowd, where he fist-bumped much of the front row and sang on the rail to the rest of the room. Let it be known they went out--but not down--fighting.



I'd initially planned to stake out a spot off the main floor, but opted to hit the rail when I noticed plenty of open spots for the taking. I'm glad I did; I don't think I would've enjoyed the same connection from the first tier back. Double bonus: The very nice security guy in my corner indicated I should stick around for a couple of minutes, then handed me the setlist without any prodding. You can keep your Coachella--I'll take the local route any day.

See also:
» used to be one of the rotten ones
» song for america

used to be one of the rotten ones

I misspoke; before I could see Wilco again, I had to get through three days of the Outside Lands Festival, which took place literally five blocks from my flat. You really can't say no to that. The Wilco summation will follow; for now, here's the rest of the weekend.

Outside Lands Festival, August 26-27, 2008: Granted, if Wilco weren't on the bill, I'd probably would've stayed home altogether, as I did on Friday, when the park was apparently packed (like you'll have any problems finding those concert reports elsewhere).

The thing is, I hate festivals, though I wasn't always like this. I once pined for the U.K. summer festivals--until my overarching love of British music peaked in 2000. Oh sure, I've been to one, two, or even three in the States, but more often than not, I skip them, including those in my part of the world featuring my favorite bands. Yes, I'm looking at you, 2005 Download Festival, with Doves and British Sea Power.

On top of that, I'm a bad festival-goer. I don't go to discover new talent; the club bookers in San Francisco typically guarantee a nice stream of up-and-coming bands in more reasonably sized venues. And despite paying the supersize ticket price, I don't get much bang for my buck. Instead, I do what I always do: camp out for my favorite(s). I did exactly that on Sunday, though thankfully, the Twin Peaks stage hosted most of the bands I wanted to see anyway. Saturday, meanwhile, was left for milling about, and in the process, I finally saw some new-to-me acts.

Hands down, my favorite act of the weekend (barring my usual obsessions) was Broken Social Scene, and not just because they namechecked Wilco as "America's best band" as they signed off or even because they brought Spiral Stairs, née Scott Kannberg, à la Pavement, vis-à-vis Preston School of Industry for their final song. I haven't seen them in concert in a few years, but You Forgot It in People ruled my airwaves for a time, and it was great to be reminded why. I think I counted 11 people onstage at one point, and at another juncture, we witnessed six or seven guitar players all slinging their trade at the same time. I loved it when I saw them at Bimbo's, and it translated even better to the festival, where they managed to sound simultaneously dreamy and rocking.



Theatrics aside, I also got a better idea of the band's numerous fluid layers and interplay, not to mention who was responsible for what song and the different influences they brought to the collective. Random thoughts: So Brendan Canning has been singing those songs? Why didn't I recognize Andrew Whiteman when I saw him with Apostle of Hustle? And indeed, Kevin Drew is no small presence either. I especially loved it when he silently directed Liz Powell to join Amy Milan on vocals for "Anthems for a Seventeen Year Old Girl"--proof that Broken Social Scene never squanders a collaborative opportunity. Yay Canadian collectives!



Other highlights include Andrew Bird, whose majestic tunes filled the expanse admirably, and Lupe Fiasco, who was just pure fun. I think I recognized two whole songs from the latter, but I totally appreciated that Vallejo ranked high on his list of Bay Area shout-outs.



My goal on Saturday was to catch the set by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, a band I've always liked, even if I couldn't admit it to my Brit-addled friends in the early '80s. Judging by our reception smack dab in the middle of the Polo Field, you might have guessed we were watching Benmont Tench and Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, but that geekiness aside, they delivered a ton of hits, along with some covers, obscurities, and a couple of tracks with Steve Winwood.

I'm a sucker for the audience singalong, which is what we heard for several songs, such as "Free Falling," "I Won't Back Down," and just about every other song they played. But what may have been my biggest takeaway from their set was witnessing a true rock 'n' roll frontman ply his trade. I see very few arena-filling bands, so I'm always surprised by the energy, ego, and, well, absurdity required to engage the audience. Sure, it's present to a certain extent with any band on any stage, but I suppose there's often a tongue-in-cheek or self-deprecating element to the so-called indie rockers I favor. Not so here--and it suitably complemented the audience's wide-eyed embrace of the songs just fine.

Unfortunately, I can't say I enjoyed every musician who performed over the weekend. I won't even bother discussing ALO, but I was hoping for more from Nellie McKay and Regina Spektor. Granted, I'm not a huge fan of female singers as it is, but their appeal evaded me for different reasons. Nellie easily qualifies as eccentric, but she struck me as someone who tries way too hard, and I couldn't find her actual songs underneath all the patter. Regina, however, didn't engage me at all.

See also:
» rosin smells and turpentine smells
» here comes the action
» the power of suggestion, the element of chance
» feels lucky to have you here