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So, another hour long bus ride. I didn’t sleep much the night before and I almost miss my stop but I’ve made it to Springfest, relatively unscathed, and ironically early. No music yet so I check out the sales. Tate’s is overrun with a rather staggering crowd. The girl in the tent in front of Uncle Sam’s has to run back and forth for everything and surprisingly nobody is shoplifting (in South Florida this is akin to a miracle). According to this very nice and harried girl the music begins at two. It’s noon. Well, hell. So I buy some cds (Radiogram and Queers EPs reviews here). During the wait I discover a little used bookstore in the next lot over. Awesome little place called Read Ink Books. Before I know it, it’s two. The whole thing is being held upstairs in The Loft. There’s a small stage and apparently they’ve stolen my grandmother’s rug and my aunt’s sofa. Add a Peter Murphy calender and some bean bags to that, and you’ve got a pretty comfy performance space. The Sig Figs are first up. I have only good things to say. If you can see these dudes live I highly recommend it. They’ve got great chemistry and kick ass beats. The drummer, his mop top, and his emo glasses equal a percussion artist. Do not question this. They definitely have the biggest crowd of the night. “This next song is called Summertime. It’s a nice, catchy song, even though it’s a bit out of date,” George, the lead singer, tells us. Catchy sums them up pretty well. They have deemed themselves the “Defenders of Power Pop” and rightly so. We get another song called “Moldy” with such awesome lyrics as “It’s moldy” and “15 cent coupons” (you don’t get that kind of amusement from the Backstreet Boys, people). “Whatever, George, just play the song!” The crowd boos as we’re told this is their last song. “...more?” The sound guy, who later reveals himself as the owner, George (lotta Georges), says one more. Unfortunately it’s over all too soon. I was late for the set (well, I couldn’t find the stairs). I get a lot of weird looks as the crowd exits. People come up and ask me who’s friend I am. I say nobody’s, I’m here for a magazine. Morrison Poe is supposed to be next, we find out later the lead singer has laryngitis and can’t perform (cause for sadness as I hear they’re good). Eventually the lead singer, George, comes over to talk. He tells me this is their first gig (I would’ve put a much higher number there). I’m honestly impressed. They’ve played a lot of house parties and have gathered quite the following. “I hate emo, screamo, dreamo, whatever,” he says, “...we’re just trying to play good music.” He cites the Beach Boys, the Beatles and other such notables as influence. A dude I can only dub as their PR guy hands me a card. Will most definitely be checking them out. Honestly, Sig Fig has the makings of greatness, you would have never guessed this was their first official gig. I am still in shock about this admission. There’s an hour between sets (due to a lack of Morrison Poe) so I’m left to ponder in an incredibly comfortable bean bag why it is people need to be visually stimulated while listening to music... But that gets boring so I start doodling “Paris Hilton, underworked and overpaid” in my notebook. Eventually George, the owner, comes over to chat. He wants to start a label and bring the indie community together. “We have the population but we’re so spread from Kendall to Miami.” It’s why he started holding performances in the Loft and he’s looking to hold more in the future. The next band finally arrives, 9 Month Anniversary. They have a pacman on their speaker and a stage crisis. Due to the equipment, there is no room for the band. Seriously dysfunctional. While the lead singer has an excellent voice (control of range and style), he sounds vageuly emo. They’re catchy and can play well, very lively. They’re more polished. More marketable. In other words... Generic. They don’t look like they’re enjoying themselves very much and there’s lots of whining that’s really just unnecessary. “Crap it’s hot”, and “The mic is shocking me” (a dirty sock solves the mic problem...slightly gross, but effective) don’t put us in the mood to groove, dude. Over all I’m fairly unimpressed. I could buy this album in any store. While the third song of the set had a fairly, for lack of a better word, amazing instrumental solo, it was forgettable. They had found a groove but it was at the end of the set. I’ll say this much, if they can keep the groove they had at the end of the set for an entire show they could have something. Hopefully the next band will wake me up. I’m going comatose. At first it appears the next band employs child labour. Then the thirteen year old grabs the bass and begins to jam like nobody’s business. They have a fan (literal, box fan) and bandanas. We are in a bad 80’s video. This is awesome. Ladies and gents, the thirteen year old, James, is the bassist. They are... The Flying Flacongas. The lead singer, complete with bandana and bare feet says, “hello friends”. They hit us with a wall of energy. They are all under legel drinking age. “Hello friends, how are you today? That is wonderful! Three more times!” They forget the lyrics to the next song and it completely doesn’t matter. It’s not that it’s a thirteen year old playing bass. It’s that he’s playing it better than most of the thirty year olds that play bass, and he’s jamming to the music. With his Pink Floyd shirt. The lead singer has fantastic stage presence as does the drummer, who cracks some jokes. “Razzle Dazzle...I like it, I love it.” The next song starts. Jason, the lead singer, tells us eventually “There’s no lyrics”. ...What? I was too busy being amazed to notice. The Power Rangers Theme cover? Priceless. “I’m Flying” gets a sing-along. “I’m flying so high in the sky” are the only lyrics. Their mom and sister get up and start dancing. “I’m flying with you John...Jason...Pat...Lady on the couch with the broken leg!” They make their friend Brian get on stage to dance, just because he’s really tall. He stage dives. No one is injured. “Pat get on stage!” Pat dances weirdly. “Everybody dance!” Whole family, including grandma gets up and starts to boogie. Josh, the drummer, firmly seated behind his drum kit, says, “I wish I could dance.” Now...if the amount of space I’ve attributed to this set wasn’t an indication...I loved the Flying Flacongas. They did something that very few bands do anymore. They had fun! We had fun because they had fun. The cumulative fun level was raised. Sadly, their set is over all too soon (past their bedtime?...I kid because I love). But we have one more band. Hands Free Method. Within five seconds I’m enjoying myself. Good intro, good vocals, excellent presence. They suffer from radio friendly-itis, a little too generic, but the lead vocalist works it enough so that you couldn’t really care less. The drummer is seriously eager to rock. They’ve barely finished a song and he’s ready for another (starts counting off and the other guys have to slow him down). He broke his drum rocking so hard. The difference between them and 9 Month Anniversary, though they both are a bit generic, is that you can tell Hands Free Method loves to play. The house is mostly empty at this point (it’s gotten fairly late) and they’re still rocking like it’s a sold out event. They pause to fix the sound. “It’s always the guitarist,” teases George. “Darn guitarists!” yells the bassist. They end the set without a word which is mildly confusing, especially to George. “...Are they done?” The Drummer eventually pops up with a “Thank You!” and apologises for being late. Another band, Azure Sky, was supposed to play but they cut out for another gig. Hands Free Method guys thank me for sticking it out, I tell them they rock, because it’s true (you totally made it worth it, dudes). They were, by far, the most technically tight band of the night. Add attitude, good vocals, and some serious instrumental skill and we get two thumbs up. Fun for the whole family. Marcel, the drummer, sings my name (and gets it right...Not Laura Sig Fig PR guy! – he yelled it across the store which was just classic). I had my initial doubts but Springfest pulled through to be a supremely enjoyable musical event. Sig Fig gave me hope for pop music, the Flying Flacongas most definitely woke me up, and Hands Free Method left me feeling thoroughly rocked, I will definitely be attending next year. 9 Month Anniversary: Couldn’t find a site XXX |
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