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Nun does the Upstream festival.
Jun. 3rd, 2018 11:12 amI hit the Upstream music festival in Pioneer square yesterday evening. Sadly, the ailing Tickler couldn't join me as planned, but I still had a pretty good time. Here's what I saw, in chronological order:
Tacocat - I've probably heard these local heroes briefly on KEXP, but I mustered up a mild desire to go see them live. This was the highlight of the festival for me. Three out of this quartet are women, including the front woman. They have songs like "Men Explain Things To Me", "Hey Girl", and "I Hate the Weekend". It's impressively tight, feminist pop-punk. I loved it, and I'm going to buy it sooner or later.
Zola Jesus - I've heard enough Zola Jesus to know that she really isn't my cup of tea. But I was eating expensive ramen on the grass, so listen I did. Ethereally Goth and high-class emo to the max, I know at least some of my friends would be all about her. As a vocal talent, though, I think the front woman of Tacocat (looks it up: Emily Nokes) compares favorably.
Both Tacocat and Zola Jesus talked from the stage about the out-of-control housing prices in Seattle, and how they're screwing artists in particular. ZJ said she moved to Wisconsin (?!) because of it.
Ended up seeing reggae performed by Africans for a few minutes. Not my thing. Walked out, overheard a dude with an African accent saying loudly into his phone, "Seattle is the worst! Seattle is shit!" I have all the feels about this, especially in light of the previous paragraph.
Strawberry Mountain - More local folks. They remind me of the Young Fresh Fellows, only with less goof and more surf and synth. They packed six musicians with amps onto a tiny stage in a small indoor venue. Worth another listen, for sure.
Slow Corpse - Funk-influenced mellow from Ashland, OR (?!) as I had tasty beer & eats at the Elysian. A bit too easy-listening for me, but I have to give them credit for putting together a band that sounds that good in Ashland.
There was to be ravey goodness later that night in a basement club called the Stage, underneath the sadly and recently closed Nightjar. Overpowering bass in a basement convinced me to bail relatively early, at 2230 or so, before Pezzner got on the decks. I went home and slept for eight hours, so I think I chose wisely.
Tacocat - I've probably heard these local heroes briefly on KEXP, but I mustered up a mild desire to go see them live. This was the highlight of the festival for me. Three out of this quartet are women, including the front woman. They have songs like "Men Explain Things To Me", "Hey Girl", and "I Hate the Weekend". It's impressively tight, feminist pop-punk. I loved it, and I'm going to buy it sooner or later.
Zola Jesus - I've heard enough Zola Jesus to know that she really isn't my cup of tea. But I was eating expensive ramen on the grass, so listen I did. Ethereally Goth and high-class emo to the max, I know at least some of my friends would be all about her. As a vocal talent, though, I think the front woman of Tacocat (looks it up: Emily Nokes) compares favorably.
Both Tacocat and Zola Jesus talked from the stage about the out-of-control housing prices in Seattle, and how they're screwing artists in particular. ZJ said she moved to Wisconsin (?!) because of it.
Ended up seeing reggae performed by Africans for a few minutes. Not my thing. Walked out, overheard a dude with an African accent saying loudly into his phone, "Seattle is the worst! Seattle is shit!" I have all the feels about this, especially in light of the previous paragraph.
Strawberry Mountain - More local folks. They remind me of the Young Fresh Fellows, only with less goof and more surf and synth. They packed six musicians with amps onto a tiny stage in a small indoor venue. Worth another listen, for sure.
Slow Corpse - Funk-influenced mellow from Ashland, OR (?!) as I had tasty beer & eats at the Elysian. A bit too easy-listening for me, but I have to give them credit for putting together a band that sounds that good in Ashland.
There was to be ravey goodness later that night in a basement club called the Stage, underneath the sadly and recently closed Nightjar. Overpowering bass in a basement convinced me to bail relatively early, at 2230 or so, before Pezzner got on the decks. I went home and slept for eight hours, so I think I chose wisely.
