This week, in his garage rock column Shake Appeal, Evan Minsker files a report from Gonerfest, which celebrated its 11th year last weekend in Memphis, Tennessee.
As soon as I got settled in after landing in Memphis, I went to Graceland. Out the gate, I wanted to immerse myself in the kitschy, touristy Memphis of the early 1970s. I gazed upon the dark green shag carpet on the ceiling of the Jungle Room. I listened to my audio guide, John Stamos, make several "jokes" that mostly hinged on Uncle Jessie's standby Elvis impression. I stood by Elvis' grave, in the same spot where Spinal Tap attempted their "Heartbreak Hotel" harmonies, failing to fully read the inscription as a mob of people were obscuring the view. When you first get there, they take a photo of you that's available to purchase at the end of the tour—it's the amusement park model. While it was pretty funny to see a picture of me at Graceland holding my copy of Kim Fowley's Lord of Garbage, I needed that money ($25!) for more important things. I placed the pink Lyft balloon over Goner Records.
See, Graceland—a bona fide spectacle with a much-deserved spot on the National Register of Historic Places—is a compound that celebrates the life of one of the most widely adored figures in music history. I had a hunch that its wide-reaching appeal and slow-moving visitors would be the perfect pre-game; it'd pump me up to go listen to some scumbag music and get doused with beer like some kind of motorheaded cave person. Sure enough, by the time I'd seen Elvis' dad's late 1940s tax return, I was ready to experience the loveably greasy world of Gonerfest.
Clear across town from the King's place, there's a store where people wearing Ex-Cult t-shirts come to celebrate loud rock'n'roll from across the globe: New Zealand, Australia, Ireland, Japan, Portland, Detroit, the Bay Area, Austin, the UK, Ohio, Bloomington, Arizona, and of course, Memphis. It's a truly heartwarming experience to open Goner's front door and recognize that there is very little space for you to move around; that's partially because a dozen people in bands you like are browsing through the stacks. The dividers in their stacks don the names of bands that don't often get their own tabs ("Sick Thoughts", "Total Control"). Within an easy walking distance, there's hot pizza and cold beer.
Paul Collins Beat
Out front, Eric Friedl (i.e. Eric Oblivian) and Zac Ives popped a bottle of champagne and christened the festival's 11th year. Then, as the sun set, Paul Collins Beat delivered a pile of muscular power pop songs, holding back his most immortal Nerves track until the very end. And somehow, after hearing Collins do "Hangin' on the Telephone", the fest kept getting better from there.
Golden Pelicans
A little later, Golden Pelicans delivered one of the more aggressive and unhinged punk shows I've ever seen. Try if you want to, but you cannot look away from frontman Erik Grincewicz, who goes from making his whole body slack—mouth agape, eyes wide—to lunging forward and screaming "PISSIN' IN A PUDDLE OF PUKE." He started chucking beers into the crowd, shook up a couple bottles of champagne, sprayed the audience, and when he attempted to smash the champagne bottle on the stage, it just bounced wholesale into the crowd and nearly brained a nice gentleman from Madison. In true "and here come the pretzels" fashion, beer cans and plastic cups were pelted from the audience. The band smiled each time a can made impact, and by the end of the night, "show this band you like them by throwing your beers at them" became a standard issue response.
There's an undeniable feeling of community at Gonerfest. It's like camp—one where they play Gremlins on the TV in the bar while records spun by Pelican Pow Wow and Total Punk DJS come seeping through the walls. The fest has regulars, and they're all there to have a good time. They're an aggressively supportive bunch, too, so when Die Rottz drummer Paul Artigues pointed into the audience and said, "Hey, this motherfucker just told me that my drums are out of tune. On the count of three, everybody tell him to go fuck himself, 1-2-3," the crowd complied with a resounding, "Go fuck yourself!" Later, they did "Tugboat", which was a definite highlight of my weekend.
Sick Thoughts
Sick Thoughts' Drew Owen was joined by Buck Biloxi/Giorgio Murderer and Gary Wrong, which, obviously, is a can't-miss all-star lineup. (I was warned in advance not to miss Sick Thoughts' set for this reason, which...I was never going to miss Sick Thoughts' set.) His songs demand being heard like this: loud and at breakneck pace. Owen jumped in the crowd and got in people's faces while screaming through tracks like "Peaked in High School". The band read the chords from a shottily taped-up chart, but never missed a beat.
Buldgerz
Another fun-to-watch band that spilled into the crowd: Memphis hardcore wreckers Buldgerz, whose frontman Matt "Pappy" Johnson never stayed on the "stage" (a concrete slab behind the Buccaneer) for too long; significant portions of songs would be screamed from within a mass of spectators in the back. During Dutch Masters, I watched two dudes in the audience pour beer down their gullets (or more accurately, their beards) Stone Cold Steve Austin-style, which seemed like a good pairing for what was happening on stage.
Radioactivity's partially melted amp
Radioactivity delivered the loudest set of the weekend, by far. A few songs in, the Hi-Tone filled with the smell of burning rubber. The crowd located the source of the smell all at the same time: Daniel Fried's amp was on fire. With a couple dozen hands outstretched, urgently pointing to the small fire that was slowly growing, the band eventually turned around and saw what was happening. Fried's response? He made an angry expression like, "I don't fucking care, why are you bothering me with this," planted his legs into a power stance, and shredded harder. A minute or two later, he dumped a cup of water on the still-plugged-in amp, eventually got himself plugged into a much bigger amp, and proceeded to play even louder.
So Cow
This one's a given, but it bears saying: Gonerfest was, in part, an incredible showcase for the newest Goner bands, who must not be missed or overlooked. So Cow, for example, are exceptionally powerful in a live setting, giving their songs added volume, bite, and urgency. After the whistling bit that opens the Long Con track "The Sugar Factory" (which, live, is sung in Brian Kelly's falsetto), they break into fuzzed-out aggression, which is leagues more powerful in a live setting than it is on the record. Kelly dances around the stage and an unmic'd Jonny White screams along to every song. "Casablanca" gets injected with screaming, searing punk while "Barry Richardson" gets a sludgier low-end. Makes you wonder: What if these dudes got a record engineered by a San Francisco destroyer like Eric Bauer or Chris Woodhouse?
Ausmuteants
All the way out from Geelong, Ausmuteants were a major first day highlight, as well. If you've found yourself unsure what to think about their acerbic sense of humor, I'd urge you to see them live. They bantered a little—at one point, Shaun Connor dedicated a song to Three 6 Mafia—but then they'd launch into ferocious renditions of their Order of Operation (out this week) and Amusements tracks. "Kicked in the Head By a Horse" and "Felix Tried to Kill Himself", for example, incited some of the bigger pits I saw at the Hi-Tone all weekend. The driving powerhouse "No Motivation" was a definite highlight in this setting.
Nots
At one of their first shows as a four-piece, Nots killed. Tracks like "Dust Red" got all-power performances that whipped the crowd into an elated shoving contest. Natalie Hoffman commands the stage. They all do. Hoffman whips around, lifts her guitar up near her head, keeps shredding, and stops in front of the mic just long enough to scream alongside her bandmates Madison Farmer, Charlotte Watson, and Alexandra Eastburn. These songs are catchy as hell. Their first album is out later this year via Goner, and while I was already looking forward to hearing a full-length from this band, theirs just became the late 2014 album I'm most excited to hear.
Hometown heroes the Grifters put on a technically impressive performance, but however tight they were, it was 1 a.m. and followed livewire acts like So Cow, Radioactivity, Golden Pelicans, and Ausmuteants. My excitement was pulled down due to the preceding (literally) sweaty, beer-soaked, ear-busting performances. It ain't easy to follow "everybody throw their trash on the stage" with music that occasionally slows things down.
Wreckless Eric with the Len Bright Combo
The Len Bright Combo, the trio led by Wreckless Eric, came through to play their first-ever U.S. concert. Introducing the band was Goner co-owner Ives, who said he first heard their music on a mixtape Greg Cartwright made for the Reatards with songs they could potentially cover. Pop tunes like "You're Gonna Screw My Head Off" were huge crowdpleasers, but the oldsters weren't just smiling and playing nice. Occasionally, Eric's guitar would break into fits of blistering grunge rock and unbridled noise. He was backed by one of the all-time great rhythm sections, Bruce Brand and Russell Wilkins; the three of them teased each other mercilessly for the whole set and made jokes confusing Paul Collins with Phil Collins. It was amazing.
Gizmos
Then there were the reunited proto-punk heroes out of Indiana, the Gizmos—the original 1977 lineup. Almost 40 years later, they sound fucking amazing; predictably, that show is fun as hell. They did all the hits, including "Mean Screen" and "Human Garbage Disposal". As if hearing them doing those songs wasn't enough, they were joined by Gooch Palms' Leroy Macqueen, Sick Thoughts' Drew Owen, Timmy Vulgar, and Obnox's Bim Thomas. Near the end of their set, they did a chaotic reading of "Everybody Needs Somebody to Love", which ended with Krazee Kenne Highland screaming the words "mouth to mouth" a bunch of times.
How the hell do you end your night after witnessing that? You go back to the Buccaneer—a cramped and hot-from-all-the-bodies room that's bathed in red light—and watch pummelers like Manateees, Golden Pelicans, and Lumpy & the Dumpers perform vicious songs with broken microphones while you get shoved over and over again by an unrelenting pit. Fights were breaking out and people were lookin' to see some blood on Saturday night. The music bit hard enough to threaten the possibility.
Terry and Louie
It was a weekend long on highlights, but for me, nothing was going to top seeing the two surviving Exploding Hearts, Terry Six and King Louie Bankston, play songs from Guitar Romantic alongside members of the Missing Monuments. After opening with the tracks from their new Terry & Louie 7", they had people screaming along the lyrics to "I'm a Pretender", "Rumours in Town", and "Modern Kicks". When Six hit the solo that comes right after the "I'm a retard" line in "Sleeping Aides and Razorblades", I instinctually screamed "YES". I kept remembering my interview with Terry and Louie about Guitar Romantic. Bankston hadn't listened to the album in a while, but said he was about ready to revisit it. Six listened to it, but said it's a "record that I will exclusively listen to alone." He returned to that music and let the rest of us be there with him. It was celebratory and emotional, to say the least.
What else was good? Literally, and I'm not just being nice here, everything. Every band at this exquisitely-curated festival kicked ass. I guess I could quibble and try to pick this thing apart, but fuck that, because that's definitely not how I felt about my weekend. I had an absolute blast. It reinvigorated my passion for this music and made me want to write about it way more often. No band on the lineup could be missed (which is why I'm miffed to have missed Ryan Rousseau's Gila Man set in order to fly back home).
Connections
I can tell that I'm already going too long in this write-up, but it'd feel wrong if I didn't mention a bunch more things. I'll go ahead and do that in a bullet-pointed list of highlights:
- People chanting "DE-TROIT" and moshing feverishly to Protomartyr, who ran through several Under Color of Official Right highlights. When a woman at the front of the crowd flipped double birds at frontman Joe Casey, he deadpanned back, staring through a pair of sunglasses Timmy Vulgar put on his face at the beginning of the show.
- Cool Runnings pounding through the stoner anthem "Stoned Tonite".
- Timmy Vulgar's entire night as MC, wearing a blonde curly wig and telling terrible jokes (noted Goner pun: "Goner-rhea") and acting like he didn't know who any of the bands were.
- The impeccable Bay Area showman Matthew Melton and his band of heatbreakers Warm Soda hamming and glamming it up while delivering the swooning power pop hits of Young Reckless Hearts.
- Newcastle, Australia duo the Gooch Palms' howling pop tunes. Macqueen looked out at the audience and noted just how sexy everyone in the crowd was, said "it's getting hot in here", and whipped his pink briefs into the crowd. There was a jock strap under there, but he didn't keep that on for too long.
- Spray Paint.
- Angie and her band making hypnotically danceable and sludgily psychedelic music.
- Those same four people playing a Nathan Roche set that made me realize that I should check out Nathan Roche's records.
- The Weather Warlock is a heavy drone project that only performs at sunrise or sunset with an analog synth that's purportedly controlled by the weather. I look up and see Quintron and Gary Wrong, but only for about a second before the whole stage and front of the crowd are engulfed by fog. After a couple minutes of this, my internet brain kicked in and looked down to check my phone, and at exactly that moment, Gary Wrong with a pillowcase over his head comes barging into the crowd from the stage and the jagged head of his guitar lunged into my ribs. It was a dizzying and confounding and incredible stoner rock show.
- The Rebel singing "Bums on a Rock".
- Connections putting every ounce of their energy and passion into their performance. Kevin Elliott was particularly on fire, raising his hands to the heavens and singing to the hypothetical rafters. It's an incredible way to experience songs like "Beat the Sky".
- A note I took during Deaf Wish's excellent set: "This band should be fucking huge."
- Everything about the Obnox set, from Bim Thomas' on-stage banter to his ever-shifting facial expressions (the man tells an emotionally complex story when he's performing) to him doing "Bitch! Get Money!".
- Life Stinks.
- Scott & Charlene's Wedding playing an afternoon set in the Memphis shade, which is the perfect setting to hear "Two Weeks".
- Seeing VOM's "Electrocute Your Cock" covered two different times in the same 24 hours—once by the VOM cover band Son of VOM (featuring Ives and Watson from Nots/Manateees), another time later that night by Lumpy & the Dumpers.
- Watching people dance to old soul tunes on the sticky, trash-littered floor after the last band of the last night had cleared out.
I've always wanted to make it down to Memphis for Gonerfest, and now that I've finally gotten to go, I want to go back every year. Sure, I lost a bunch of sleep, but I also saw dozens of amazing bands, drank really good beer, ate great food, made new friends, and came back to Michigan with a pile of awesome records. A guy gave me his burned CD demo accompanied by the question, "Do you like King Tuff?" You know how often that happens in the real world? It doesn't!
If you can't make it to Gonerfest, study the lineup anyway. Look up each band's Bandcamp pages (or equivalent thing), listen to them, and go see them. The people who book this festival know what they're doing; here's some music from this year's lineup:
But seriously, just go to Gonerfest. It's a party, man.