
Best drummer of the festival?
Why did I use a picture of Deefhoof”s drummer Greg Saunier instead of one of their cute, pint sized Japanese singer Satomi Matsuzaki who was wearing an adorable red dress for today’s show. Well, because this guy’s drumming was a sight to behold. I wouldn’t call myself a drummer but I have been in a few bands as the guy who smashes sticks onto skins, and believe me, Mr. Saunier had phenomenal control over his instrument. Speed, precision and intensity all combined to make his drumming a thing of beauty. A friend of mine who saw him play at Fuji a few years ago told me how his drumsticks kept flying out of his hands he was playing so hard. Today, I only saw him drop a stick once but the way he kept thrusting himself into the air made it look like he was trying to launch himself like some kind of percussive rocket. Deerhoof have been around since the early 90’s and they really embody what was so fantastic about the 1990’s indies rock scene, yet they have a sound completely of their own. Looping guitar lines, funky rhythms and Satomi’s very girly singing voice built songs that were always completely unpredictable and engaging. It felt as if you were riding a high tech, high speed roller coaster through some enchanted forest.

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I have always loved girl bands, especially girl rock bands. So much of what it means to play rock music and create the angst and power that makes rock so incredible is associated with a very macho male image of sweaty guys smashing drums and dishing out aggression in the form of guitar chords. I went to see the amazing Vivian Girls in Tokyo a couple of weeks ago and they really embody the beautiful edge that feminity can bring to rock music. They rocked just as hard as any male band ever has yet they also exuded such a playful and cute vibe while they jammed, making their show all that much more special. So needless to say I am extremely excited about seeing LA’s 













These days nobody begrudges indie bands the help of a superstar producer the way they used to, so the able-bodied New York-based guitar-pop quartet with the wincingly earnest name The Pains of Being Pure at Heart only earned props for getting Flood and Alan Moulder to helm their sophomore effort, Belong. Though initially boosted as neo-shoegazers, and literary neo-shoegazers, too boot, on the new album the group comes off as a progressive power pop outfit with more pedestrian concerns. It’s an altered perception that can only be party credited to the cleaner production. That Kip Berman’s girlish whisper pushes to the front of the churning instrumental mix indicates that lo-fi just won’t do any more, but he also sounds more honestly in love, when love happens to be the topic. The band necessarily loses much of its appealing spunk in the bargain, but it’s impossible to listen to these songs and not be reminded of the producers’ past glories, the U2 roar of the title song, the Depeche Modish bounce of “Heaven’s Gonna Happen Now.” POBPAH were never that original, but they could fool you into thinking they were, and except for Fountains of Wayne, there’s nobody at the festival this year who is as likely to occasion spontaneous outbursts of choral singalongs; but that suggests they have a dedicated fan base already, so get cracking. You only have a little less than two months.
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