My friend and I had been looking forward to the event for weeks. We had dutifully highlighted shows of particular interest, taking into account the venue's relative locations and the popularity of the talent. After talking to some other concert goers we found that we weren't the only ones who circled the dates Sept 18-20 in our calendars. One women we talked to at Dante's had created a her own printed itenerary with the sequence of shows she was going to attend culled from the official schedule as well as backup shows if the venues she had scheduled to go to were full. We knew that our nights weren't going to go exactly to plan. In fact, we hoped that we would leave the schedule behind as we followed the winds of adventure in several nights of booze, music, weed, and random encounters. So here, in true gonzo style, is my MFNW experience:
Day I: This is more of an appetizer then a legitimate kick-off to the festival with artists playing at only one venue. The real shenanigans begin on thursday when all stages are in full swing. But my illustrious compatriot, Keegan, and myself are ansty and staring at our shiny new green braceletts. These braceletts give us an all access pass to the festival (well besides the multiple VIP areas and the venues which are full of ticket-buying concert goers who get to skip in fron of us, but more on that later). We try to make it downtown for the Portland Chello project but miss their preformance. I've had a soft spot for Classical instruments playing rock music ever since watching the members of Apocalyptica wail out Metallica riffs on stand-up bases. We have a beer or two and listen to the mellow musical musings of some acoustic-guitar-playing-melodical-singer-songwriter but our hearts aren't in it and we return home, resting up our energy for day two of the festival.
Day II: Begins with a bang as we head to the Wonder Ballroom for the early show in the lineup. The Helio sequence puts on an awesome show. The drummer sported a huge grin through the entire set, seemingly ecstatic at playing in his hometown. Every time he banged on a drum his face would light up with joy and his grin would stretch ever wider, reaching demonic proportins. The spiffy lighting effects and the projected 'bandz in the hood' sign get us in that magical MFNW mood and I take a quick snapshot with my iphone. On the way out we were rejected entry to the VIP beer garden and a tricked out school bus that appeared to be a silk-screeening clinic. "I guess we are just AIP's (average importance people" I told Keegan.
***
The next stop is across the river to another ballroom, The Crystal. Keegan and I are full of Jaeger and mirth as we enter the venerable loft space. The Crystal is a beatiful establishment and the bouncing and swaying floorboards make it feel like your dancing on a spongy trampoline. The first act we see is a bit of a disapointment. A pianist wails away on distorted key notes which ricochet from the walls at a spectrum low and warbly enoug to kill dolphins. I didn't know that a piano could sound so jarring. Then Explosions in the Sky hit the stage and blew us all away with their resounding psychadelic rock sound. One of our friends who had bought a ticket for the show was in a walker, as he was the victim of a recent motorcycle accident. We used his handicap as an excuse to push us towards the front of the crowd. I gotta say that the band was great but I was pretty disapointed in the Portland fans. While Explosion's music isn't exactly dance-pop, they do play some bangin tunes that appreciate a little bit of crowd reaction. Maybe a few dance steps, perhaps even a little skanking or moshing are in order? But instead the portlanders stand stoicly with hands in pockets, staring blankly at the preformers. "These kids need to stop being so self-conscious and go a little mad hatter" I told Keegan. We turned heel after half the set and headed down to the Roseland. On the walk down MFNW run school buses passed by, filled up with passengers.
When we arrive outside the Roseland we find that Girl talk is rammed full of dance-happy portlanders and we are forced to take our bracelets elsewhere. We hightail it over to Dante's and check out We were promised jet-packs and another Scottish band which followed them. I was greatly impressed and fearful when, upon entering Dante's I was confronted with, what appeared to be a bad guy from super stree fighter. The bouncer that night was an intimidating charecter, outfitted with tribal tattoos across his entire face, plenty of ear guages, septum piercings, and other metal accountremant. He also carried a large hunting knife and what appeared to be a pair of handcuffs. This guy looked like he could eat two or three eastside skinny jean hipster bouncers for breakfast. Inside Dante's Keegan and I succumbed to the insistent schtick of a cute camel salesman and both purchased a pack of the cancer sticks. It then proved exceedingly difficult to convince the camel girl that we, in fact, did not want to recieve weekly camel promotions and coupons. I don't need my smoking habit to be advertised to my family. I'd rather leave the smoking for dingy bars and urban nighttime strolls. To round off the night we dragged our drunk and nicced out butts over to the Ash Street Saloon where we watched folk powerhouse "The Dimes". I dug the band but not the bathroom which was one of those exceedingly awakward 'its too big to be a single but not big enough to be a double' affairs. With a relieved bladder and an aching gut from pizza, beer, jaeger, and cigarettes I drove back home.
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