On Saturday, Sandy Creek Park hosted the 30th annual North Georgia Folk Festival, which was headlined by folk legend Norman Blake. Known for his long, fruitful career and his influence on the revitalization of bluegrass in the ‘70s, the grandfatherly Blake's music is astounding and steeped with expertise.
Photo Credit: David Schick
Music Midtown has again come and gone, and while sitting in the grass enjoying the breeze, watching roadies ready the stage for Fitz and The Tantrums’ set, I reflected that late September in Atlanta is the perfect place and season for a music festival. Over the course of the weekend, close to 100,000 people flocked to the heart of the city to see a wide variety of acts in beautiful Piedmont Park. It was the fourth installment of Music Midtown since its return, after the festival took a hiatus from 2005–2010.
Photos by Randy Schafer
“Will it be worth it?” asked several of my friends in anticipation of Jeff Tweedy’s appearance at the Georgia Theatre Friday night. Given that the Wilco frontman and his son, Spencer, would be performing in support of their not yet released solo-record-that’s-not-quite-a-solo-record, Sukierae, I wasn’t sure I could give a straight answer to folks on the fence about paying $50 to attend the show.
Photos by Jason Thrasher
I first stumbled onto Ty Segall in 2010 via two tracks from Melted on the Mondo Boysmixtapes put out by Athens alum and Aquarium Drunkard helmster Justin Gage. Since then, keeping up with Segall and friends’ (Mikal Cronin, Fuzz, Thee Oh Sees, Sic Alps) nonstop output of Northern California garage-punk-psych-metal has been like watching rabbits multiply, tricky to quantify and difficult to describe.
A friend of mine once told a funny story, a through-the-grapevine anecdote about someone's mom running into a mohawked Trent Reznor at the neighborhood Kroger or whatever and a bashful Rez explaining that the hairdo was "for the kids."
These days, Reznor's fashion choices are honestly pretty MOR for a man who penned the lyric "hard line bad luck fist fuck"—shorts, muscle shirts, the occasional tasteful bit of leather—and his audience is no longer so much "the kids," but rather those kids who grew up with his nihilistic shut-in anti-anthems, kids now pushing 30, 40 years old but still eager to fist-pump along with steadfastly antisocial tunes like "Gave Up."
I’ve been skeptical of summer music festivals since Bonnaroo 2004, when I was gifted the most horrendous sunburn you could imagine. The sound is usually never on point for outdoor stages, either. Call me crazy, but I’m just not fond of sweating it out while also not being able to hear a band that well.
Finishing the three-day marathon that is Pitchfork starts to feel like a daunting task by the time Sunday rolls around, and the mood in Union Park was flat early that afternoon, even as Bay Area black-metal outfit Deafheaven screeched and churned through songs fromSunbather. In fact, the vibe was downright chill:
Empress Of got off to a shaky start on the Blue Stage Saturday, but soon Lorely Rodriguez and her backing band were locked in, riding a succession of strange grooves accentuated by Rodriguez's dynamic and equally strange vocal delivery. On the Red Stage, the ever-potent Cloud Nothings offered what was one of the only straight-up rock and roll sets of the day, heavy on songs from this year's Here and Nowhere Else.
Photo Credit: Leif Johnson
Right off the bat, the best thing this year's Pitchfork Music Festival has going for it is the weather: Rather than last summer's mind-melting heat, Friday attendees were treated to a clear-skied 80-degree afternoon.
Photo Credit: Jason Creps
Accompanied by a five-piece band that featured Kelly Hogan’s exceptional voice and Eric Bachmann’s adept guitar and keys work, Neko Case and company tore through a range of songs at the Georgia Theatre, drawn mostly from her past two records. Before I go any further: Let it be known that Case’s band is tight, though not in the overly-polished, “let’s replicate the record note-for-note” manner. The playing was confident throughout the set, everything finely calibrated even when the moods of the songs swayed from drowsy to frantic.
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