In addition to playing “Where’s the Plaid-Clad Waldo” and “Spot the Wallowing Emo Girl,” it was a day of visceral harmonies and intricate melodies; this was indie rock in all its finest and critically acclaimed.
The long and short:
- Andy Cable from Vetiver confessing to living in the Avenues in the City: “Everyone should go to out to Thai Time on 8th Avenue. It’s the best. This one goes out to Thai Time.”
- Beirut upstaging in banter and glockenspiel categories, with Zach Condon dispensing “Do you know any shitty pirate jokes?” and “Fuck the cold. I ain’t afraid of it. I’m afraid of earthquakes” removing his jacket. While “A Sunday Smile” and other early works might resonate deeper than any new material, tracks off the new EP recorded in Mexico were rich and vibrant in the gloomy, downcast air. “That’s probably the only tuba solo you will hear today,” noted one of the multi-instrumentalists.
- The gloomy weather could be heard whistling through mics during Grizzly Bear’s attempts to play acoustic numbers.
- Yo La Tengo was Yo La Tengo – intricate, fuzzy, but no stage presence other than the singer lifting a guitar above his head and singing a little louder.
- The Decemberists are still a band. You were thinking of the Shins.
- It was clear that this show was about the Flaming Lips for many, many fans pressed like sardines against walls and rafters. Wayne Coyne birthed by a balloon doesn’t get old, it just gets legendary. And a ticker tape parade’s worth of confetti doesn’t hurt. “It’s not too cold to fucking freak out,” barked Coyne. True.
