FYF Fest: ‘Hipster Woodstock’ goes off, with hitches

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[I was fulfilling a previous obligation on Saturday and was not able to attend downtown’s FYF Fest, which, according to people I’ve spoken with in the past 24 hours, was either an unmitigated disaster or an unqualified success. Funny how experiences can vary on a 100-degree afternoon. I solicited Michael Bauer, frontman of the L.A. band Useless Keys, to keep a diary of his day at FYF Fest. He attended without benefit of a media credential. His photos and account follow:]

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Story and photos by Michael Bauer

I wish I had been inside Los Angeles State Historic Park to see Avi Buffalo play.

Unfortunately, the start to the FYF Fest (formerly known as the F Yeah Fest) was a rocky one. The first sets were scheduled for 1:30 p.m., but gaining clearance from the fire marshal to open the grounds delayed the proceedings and gates were not open until 2:15 p.m. This left a crowd of at least 1,000 people under the midday summer sun, waiting in line for up to 4 hours. Most of the crowd had purchased tickets online and the will-call line stretched from the park’s entrance to Chinatown. Even the VIP line took a decent amount of time to navigate. The only line that moved swiftly was for people looking to purchase day-of-show tickets with cash. The massive wait for will call led several ticket-holders to forgo their tickets being held and simply repurchase tickets in the cash line so they could enter (in effect, many purchased 2 tickets to the festival). I was one of the lucky ones who didn’t buy advance tickets, so after monitoring the situation for a time, I bought my ticket and went inside – only to find Avi Buffalo’s set was already complete.

Aside from the long lines to enter the festival and the lack of free accessible water (festival security wouldn’t allow attendees to bring in bottled water and there was only one water fountain in the park that consistently had a line of 75 people waiting in it) FYF Fest – the sixth installment of the festival promoter Sean Carlson started as the Fuck Yeah Fest – was a success. Set times ran smoothly and were staggered to minimize overlapping. The unique venue backdropped by the L.A. skyline was picturesque. Bathroom lines were non-existent, but maybe that’s because few wanted to pony up the cash for $3 waters or $7 beers.

Here’s my journal from the day:

3:30 p.m.: Psychedelic rock band Woods is jamming on the Redwood Stage (main stage), and the more they stray away from formulaic songs and veer into endless bluesy jams, the more I dig it. This might be the first band that shares similar musical textures with Phish and Grateful Dead that I actually enjoy listening to. One band member is hunched over on the stage floor with a contraption attached to his mouth, making noise effects, providing the perfect amount of weird texture to the jams to keep me entertained.

3:49 p.m.: Darker My Love are a few minutes into their set on the Oak Stage (second stage), and the crowd slowly grows as each song passes. Bassist Rob Barbato says, “This song is about a letter written from Mark David Chapman to J.D. Salinger,” and the band breaks into another tightly played psychedelic rock song. Maybe it’s the sunlight, but Darker My Love’s guitars sound much cleaner and less grunge-y than I remember them in the past.

4:04 p.m.: Back at the Redwood Stage, Crystal Antlers are finishing up their set and the crowd has grown considerably over the last hour. Unlike the first two acts I witnessed, Crystal Antlers seems to have a more modern approach to psychedelic rock, calling to mind a fusion of Pink Floyd (circa “The Wall”) and Mars Volta.”  Lead vocalist Jonny Bell belts out melodies over chaotic riffs. but unfortunately a third psych-rock band in a row is too much to bear and I’m looking for a palette cleanser.

4:25 p.m.: Wavves take the stage shortly after Crystal Antlers to one of the day’s largest crowds. Wavves frontman Nathan Williams tells the crowd that drummer Zach Hill is in severe pain because he needs dental surgery and has postponed surgery to do the show. Hill is an extremely hard-hitting drummer who plays as if he’s in”  a speed metal band, and I don’t find that his playing style meshes well with Williams’ noise-pop vibe. It’s worth noting, though, that the hundreds of kids smashed up against the stage barrier seem to connect just fine.

I admire Williams’ singing style; he handles the duties of lead and backing vocals entirely himself delivering a lead vocal line in his normal range and coupling it with a backing vocal melody in his falsetto. The drums are too distracting for me to stay interested, though, so …

5:15 p.m.: “You like that shit? I wrote that shit.” Har Mar Superstar is laying down the pop-funk tunes at the Sequoia Stage ,and he takes a moment between songs while the crowd roars to remind everyone that he’s the mastermind behind the project. This is the first time I’ve ever seen Har Mar, and for the first time at FYF Fest, I’m blown away by a band. His rhythm section and guitarist are so professional and tight that it sounds like he’s singing over backing tracks as opposed to a live band. Har Mar Superstar’s early ’80s-inspired pop was the perfect sound to wake me out of my psychedelic-noise-indie-rock coma. Now it’s time to cave in and buy a $3 water before I suffer from heat exhaustion.

5:45 p.m.: Shortly after splurging on water, I wander over to catch Dan Deacon’s set at the main stage.”  I’m confused to find that there aren’t many people milling about for what I had expected to be one of the main attractions of the day. Fifteen minutes pass before a voice comes over the loudspeaker announcing “Dan Deacon’s set has been canceled due to illness.” Finishing of my last bit of water, I decide it’s time to seek out shade.

6:39 p.m.: Portland’s the Thermals blast their brand of punk-grunge as the sun sets over the Elysian Park hills.”  Thermals’ singer-guitarist Hutch Harris becomes the first of many frontman to scream “Fuck Yeah!” before segueing into song.”  The crowd which has been subdued and calm for most of the day, start to break out of their trance, and a number of heads nod as the set wears on. Goodbye, sun. You won’t be missed.

7:20 p.m.: On the advice of a friend, I checked out Southern rock-inspired Lucero at the Oak Stage. Lucero sounded like a cross between Rancid, AC/DC, and Hank Williams Jr. Most of the lyrics I could make out were about drinking, which I totally respect and condone. While it wasn’t particularly my cup of tea musically, I really appreciated the diversity of the bands on the bill as the Fest wore on.

8:15 p.m.: Peanut Butter Wolf is DJing the Sequoia Stage, spinning late ’80s and early ’90s rap and hip-hop. Behind the DJ tables is a massive video screen, and Peanut Butter Wolf is mixing music and video simultaneously. He asks the crowd in between a song, “How many of you are from the old school?” A few people raise their hands and cheer. Then he asks, “How many of you at least have respect for the old school?” More people cheer. I left wondering what school he was talking about and feeling shameful for my suburban upbringing.

8:35 p.m.: OK. Hardcore punk outfit Fucked Up were the best band I witnessed at FYF Fest. Lead singer Damian Abraham announced his presence by walking on stage to thousands of adoring fans, smiling coyly at the large crowd, then proceeding to repeatedly bash a full beer can into his forehead before launching himself against the stage barrier where he remained for most of his band’s set, aside from when he was scaling the sides of the stage scaffolding. A gaping hole in the middle of the crowd formed shortly after the first song and served as a moshpit for young males to test danger for the rest of the set. In between songs, Abraham took time to say, “It’s great to be here at Hipster Woodstock,” which drew many laughs out of the crowd and seemed an appropriate title to give the festival.”  Thirty intense minutes later, I came to the conclusion that this set was well worth the “waiting in line forever” aspect of FYF Fest.

9:20 p.m.: Torche is a heavy, slow metal band that masculine guys dig. Kudos again to the festival for booking a diverse bill, but I’m a sucker for melodies and couldn’t hang through an entire set of dark metal after being in the sun all day.

10:06 p.m.: No Age plays the role of local rock ’n’ roll heroes on the main stage to a loyal audience. Randy Randall and Dean Spunt blister through “Teen Creeps,” “Sleeper Hold” and “Eraser,” along with a few new songs. Instead of moshing throughout No Age’s set as they did during Fucked Up, now the rebellious act of the moment for the youthful center of the crowd is to take a can of beer and shake it and then spray it all over their closest neighbor. I’m still mystified as to how anyone managed to sneak in so many cans of beer or why they wouldn’t just drink them.

In the middle of the No Age set, a member of Mika Miko screams out from the side stage, “I’m being arrested!” and Spunt stops the show to negotiate the situation with security. Randall leads the crowd in a chant of “What the fuck?” until Spunt returns to his drum throne and claims that he’ll “bail out” the member of Mika Miko after the show. After being at the festival for 10 hours now, I’m running out of fuel and make my way toward the gate.

11:00 p.m.: Glass Candy is my last band of FYF Fest. The sound at their stage was wonky, the vocals were way too loud in comparison to the synthesizer and drum machine, but Glass Candy entertained nonetheless with their electronic disco-influenced pop. ” Note to bands planning on playing festivals in the future: Throwing 20 huge plastic balls into the crowd shortly before you play is a great way to build positive rapport with your audience. After about four songs, I decided to give in to my need for water and food and left.