Bob Mould by PJ Sykes
There was a moment at Merge 25 on Saturday, the day the label hosted an outdoor show in Carrboro, North Carolina to celebrate its 25th anniversary, when a few hundred people were standing almost completely still in a strip mall parking lot. A tall light fixture cast an eerie orange glow on the crowd, emitting a noticeable hum that everyone was trying to ignore.
Jeff Mangum, longhaired and long-bearded, was alone onstage playing “Two-Headed Boy” from 1998’s In the Aeroplane Over the Sea. The only arms in the air were those of reverent Neutral Milk Hotel fans, feeling moved to sing quietly along. There were no phone screens visible (except for one guy, briefly, who brazenly filmed all of “Holland, 1945” and then thankfully called it a wrap on smartphone documenting the show), after signs posted on nearby trees and poles asked for no photos or video at “the request of the artist.” Mangum’s guitar playing slowed and his vocals softened as he wound the song down, and the rest of his band (Neutral Milk Hotel’s original line-up, plus a few guests on strings) joined him to slide swiftly into “Fool", the next song on the album. It seemed universally to be a goose bump-inducing few moments for everyone clumped together drinking draft beers outside the Fleet Feet Sports, one that would only be topped later by “Oh Comely", a song you’d have to be stone-hearted not to be moved by. But for now, it was a high-point for all—except maybe for one overheard Neutral Milk novice who commented to a friend “It’s pretty Beirut.”
Photo by PJ Sykes
Was this the coolest thing to ever happen in a location like this? “I feel like this has been an emotional day for everyone,” comedian Margaret Cho, who hosted the daylong show between sets, said to the crowd after Bob Mould and his band played earlier that evening. “What’re we going to do when it’s over?” The temperature was hovering around 90 degrees and the air was swampy with humidity when Mould went onstage, backed by drummer Jon Wurster (Superchunk, Mountain Goats) and Jason Narducy (Split Single, Verbow)—who also played on his Mould’s new album, Beauty & Ruin—and numerous bottles of just-in-case water scattered on amps. They powered through a career-spanning set, playing “I Don’t Know You Anymore” and “Hey Mr. Grey” from Beauty, “Hardly Getting Over It", from Hüsker Dü’s 1986 album, Candy Apple Grey, “See a Little Light", from Mould’s first solo album, 1989’s Workbook, and “If I Can’t Change Your Mind", from the 1992 album Copper Blue by Mould’s band Sugar. At 53, Mould is still as frenetic and adept as ever on guitar, same as it ever was but with new songs. (“Hey Mr. Grey,” which feels angsty and post-punk in the vein of Hüsker Dü’s heyday, prompted a friend at the show to wonder if Mould is partially blame for the existence of emo.)
This is not to say the whole day was weighted down by impassioned sets and grateful musicians praying at the alter of the label that helped make their musical careers possible, though their praise of Merge was abundant (“Seriously, a record label can really fuck you,” Mangum told the crowd. “Merge doesn’t want to fuck you. They’ve been such a good home for us all these years.”). It was actually a glistening-with-sweat example of what a festival can and should be, but usually isn’t—a solidly diverse line-up, perfectly on-time sets, minimal bathroom lines (and enough toilet paper!), PBRs for $3, readily available free water, and the chance to bump into Mac McCaughan or Laura Ballance (Merge co-founders and former Superchunk band mates) inside Cat’s Cradle, the venue that helped put on the show and remained open and air-conditioned all day to give festival-goers a break from the heat.
Photo by PJ Sykes
There were lighter moments, too: Norman Blake from Teenage Fanclub provided some humor from his hotel room. He’d brought an item advertised as a “luxury shower cap,” and modeled it before offering it to the crowd, marveling at the name and imploring someone, anyone to enjoy its “luxuriousness.” His hotel accouterments came up again later, after playing “The Past” and “Baby Lee” from 2010’s Shadows, “Don’t Look Back,” from 1995’s Grand Prix, and “The Concept", the song that became a modern rock hit after their 1991 album Bandwagonesquebeat out Nevermind for Spin’s top album of the year. Squinting into the crowd, Blake complained, “I’ve got some shampoo, which didn’t wash out of my hair properly, running into my eyes.”
But the most fun, highest-energy segment of the day may have been Caribou’s dance party of a set. The sun was sinking and a slight breeze rolled in as Dan Snaith and three other musicians, who casually matched with shirts and pants in varying shades of almost-white, played “Leave House", “Found Out", and “Odessa” from 2010’s Swim, and their new single “Can’t Do Without You” (their third record on Merge is out in October). Caribou’s songs vary in style, experimental, industrial sounds, to 60s-sounding psych, to house and disco beats, but many tend to begin with simpler melodies that weave, expand, and layer, building from quiet to loud in a way that’s perfect for inciting a dance frenzy.
This was definitely the case with their closing song, “Sun", the second track onSwim, and the one that involves a mesmerizing repetition of the title word and an arpeggiated organ loop. As the song came to an end, Snaith huddled over his keyboard, bouncing and fiddling with knobs, and facing the drummer, who raised his left drumstick skyward between quick beats. Everyone in the crowd was moving, and no one seemed to mind the questionable-smelling sweatiness. Near the end, a guy in a ripped, damp white tank top turned to his friend and said “I could dance to that for like an hour.”