Tag: NOTHING

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                    [post_content] => Goldenvoice has been on a roll, especially with their Rose Bowl based festivals, hosting special gatherings on sacred grounds. These two to three day festivals they've been churning out have all featured incredible lineups and have allowed audiences to see numerous artists that could each play at the Greek, Shrine or Bowl all on one giant, dusty field inside a literal melting pot. From Pasadena Daydream with the Cure to Arroyo Seco with Neil Young, Goldenvoice is building up a powerful Pasadena legacy. This Ain't No Picnic hosted artists that represented our modern rock and roll heroes like Sparks, Le Tigre, The Strokes and LCD Soundsystem, but also the cream of next crop of legends like Turnstile, Caroline Polachek, Yves Tumor, Magdalena Bay, Ethel Cain, King Woman, and Idles. Mark my words, these artists will be massive headliners in the decades to come and on that day, we'll look back to lineups like This Ain't No Picnic's and be in awe of how so many huge artists were assembled on the same bill.
related content: Arroyo Seco: The Nostalgic, The Timeless, and the Real
Day 1
Getting to drive on the greens of a golf course to find my parking spot began my day at This Ain't No Picnic with fun. Once I stepped onto the festival grounds and found my way to Genesis Owusu, it became an indisputable fact that life was good and all things shinning. Every festival in this space is incredibly hot, you need to stay hydrated but also keep a cool mental space which is what Genesis Owusu did, coming out on stage in full black and red attire along with three masked men dancing and backing up his vocals. Genesis has more swag and drip than anyone in the worlds of funk and soul today, coming from Australia he's an outsider looking in on Western music and giving it a unique jive the same way Australia's modern rock monsters have given us new takes on psych rock. With singles like "WUTD" and "Good Times" Genesis is an artist who's music speaks for itself, my words can't possibly give you an idea of how much fun it is to dance to these jams whether it's in the club or on a hot, carefree day.







One of the major draws of this lineup, no matter your age, had to have been Ying Yang Twins. With so many club bangers and classics of the Atlanta hip hop scene under their belts, these two are legends of rap that you're familiar with no matter when you grew up. People came out of the woodwork for this set and jived for every song they bust out, from "Salt Shaker" to "Wait (The Whisper Song)" and Ms. New Booty". Every listener had to realize that every song played was a hit at some point. Still, for me this festival was more about artists expanding the musical frameworks they worked within, so the novelty of Ying Yang Twins ran out fast and I made my way to Yves Tumor to catch the rest of his set, an ultra-sexual love fest and rock and roll frenzy that felt like you were watching Prince on LSD while you were on ecstasy. Yves is one of the only remaining true artists left in rock, expressing himself totally, without adhering to any rules. Which is why some people find his gender-bending problematic, the fact that's he's straight yet signaling to queer people bothers those who adhere to a rule set, Yves doesn't care though and I doubt he ever will.
related content: Art's Spirit Animal: Yves Tumor at the OC Observatory








I stayed at the main stage for Courtney Barnett. As such a principal player in indie and psych rock, I'm ashamed to admit this was my first time seeing her. I immediately understood why she's so popular though, within a few songs she struck me as one part Bob Dylan, another part Lou Reed, and lastly, another part Kim Gordon. She has a poet's way about her with that sort of sagely street-spirit vocal cadence to boot, yet she goes for noise and fuzz like Kim would, electrifying her lyrics and storytelling with a feel that penetrates directly to the heart of the underground until it takes on that underground's own pulse. I moseyed over to Ethel Cain at the Greens stage to get a few songs in at the end of her set which she concluded with a harrowing and powerful rendition of "Crush". Ethel seems to be on track to take up the same space that Lana Del Rey once occupied, only for an even more disaffected youth. I only wish she still dressed as a cult leader at her shows instead of going for some kind of casual 90's look.
related content: Photo Recap: Ethel Cain at the Masonic Lodge at Hollywood Forever






Since first seeing her perform with George Clanton, I've been a big fan of Magdalena Bay. Her art captures the complexity and grandiosity of the multiverse, whether as reality or fiction, from the perspective of a ditsy, unique feminine lens. Like Dune meets Britney Spears. It's actually an ingenious way to size-down the universe into a more digestible dose which can then transmute into the most poetic pop music. I scrambled back to the main stage to see Kaytranada, one of the most talented and suave modern DJs and producers. That said, although his tunes were cool, the show was so stripped, just him and his decks, that there was some desired quality of overwhelming energy and groove that was simply missing. We returned to the opposite end of the festival where punk rock legends Circle Jerks were playing. As a punk myself, I felt ashamed that my desire for new musical experiences overrode my desire to stay true to my scene, still though, destiny would have it that I would return to my roots. The Circle Jerks might be old and their music might be for older people but it sounded and felt fresher than the DJ playing for all the kids across the field.
related content: Time is an Illusion: The Circle Jerks at Pappy and Harriet's






If I had any single complaint about This Aint No Picnic it's that nearly every major artist conflicted with another. You had to choose constantly or enjoy half sets of both artists. I wasn't a fan of Jungle coming into this festival but after experiencing two songs before bouncing to Le Tigre, I have set my sights on seeing them the next time they perform no matter where they play. Going to Le Tigre and experiencing the whole set of their epic reunion was probably the right decision. This art-punk trio put on an incredible show that felt cutting edge and quirky, inspiring every artist in the crowd to add more pop and punk sensibility to any avant-garde ideas they might be playing with. Musically, the band sounded like any of their songs could've appeared in an Austin Powers soundtrack. LCD Soundsystem sounded perfect. Everything about the performance was tight and spot on. Getting to hear my favorite song by them right away as the 2nd in their set was great because I could feel fulfilled as I left the festival early to mend my broken body after walking around so much trying to see every band in the brutal heat.
Day 2
I suppose the way most people plan out their festival is by coming later in the day, not caring much for the early bands to arrive when it's not as hot and every artist onstage is a hot ticket. Me though? I could never miss out on artists like Spellling playing early so I dragged my broken body out of bed to face that sweltering sun one more time to arrive at the Rose Bowl early and see her do her special thing. Spellling's version of alternative R&B is like nothing before it, she channels an epic, almost Disney quality, to her theatrical and poetic sound. Rarely do you hear magic realism in R&B music but Spellling's nature is to constantly break and change frameworks.





It was great to see Mdou Moctar in a festival setting instead of a club show to see how an audience that didn't come for him would respond and as it turned out, much of the festival were in fact, his people. They came out in full force and with full energy, dancing to Mdou's wild desert guitar rock harder than for any artist the entire weekend. The post-punk duo known as Wet Leg have been hailed as one of the genre's best bands of the genre, crafting a sound that is cool, sly and poetic. They were the perfect sound to enchant a sunny LA day with pleasant, sweet energy but I wouldn't say there was as much rock and roll as advertised or as much darkness as desired.









I was listening to Deafheaven's New Bermuda on my drive to the festival knowing they would probably be performing songs off Infinite Granite, their first total foray out of metal music. Hearing these songs live for the first time, it wasn't the Deafheaven I was accustomed to and didn't gel with my sensibilities as much as I wished, though I would say their shoegaze is still more dynamic than many in that world. I gravitated over to Caroline Polachek's set to see the one pop singer of our time that a punk gets the green-light to love. With as many underground shows as I frequent, seeing a polished pop show was a rare treat that I enjoyed. Caroline sang and danced her heart out, capturing the audience's spirit with songs like "Door".













Before the festival, I posted a poll to decide whether I should see Sparks or Idles performing in this time slot. Idles dominated Sparks, showing the age of our audience and their lack of reverence to the iconic Sparks Brothers. Though it was possible to catch 15 minutes of Idles, I wanted to see Sparks' full set form a good spot so I got there early and near the front. Their set, though short, was full of the many magic qualities that made this band so legendary. From the humor, to the songwriting to the dynamic relationship between Russel and Ron Mael, both of which are still so talented after all these years. I can't help but love Phoebe Bridgers with all my heart. I find her music completely enchanting and emotionally powerful. Her stories of growing up in Pasadena and how she instills them into her hometown performances always touch me. Then her penchant for metal music and her intro to Disturbed's "Sickness" is a welcome homage to the main musical scene I love.







Beach House was bar-none the best set of the weekend. They pulled out all the stops to make their psych rock powerful and emotionally palpable enough to launch the entire festival into outer space. I only caught half of their set because I wanted to see The Strokes but spiritually, I knew the right move would've been to stay inside Beach house's aura till the very end. The band's playing was tight and impeccable, everyone working off each other as they were hidden by a light show that put the music under a hotter spotlight that only made it more transcendent. With a headlining slot at a festival like This Ain't No Picnic, I had to ask myself if The Strokes were worthy of the mantle they were being given. Not the mantle of headliners but the mantle of being the biggest rock and roll band of our time. The Rolling Stones of the new world. When millennials grow old, will the Strokes still be around playing arenas? Are their songs as relevant to us as "Gimme Shelter" is to the boomer generation? There were moments of this set that answered these questions with a definite "yes". People responded so passionately to the band, giving them so much love and energy and really feeling their music as they sung along. If it's destined for these New York legends of indie sleaze to become the kings of rock and roll, then I suppose I have to accept it. Who else would deserve the throne after all these years? Every other contender rose to the highest ranks of music by making forms of rock and roll that were flashy and not old school. The Strokes have always been pure. Rock and roll and nothing but. You never wonder and dissect what genres they were dabbling in. It was always just rock.

















All in all, This Ain't No Picnic was cool. It allowed me to see many of the hot artists I had been waiting to catch all within one weekend. From here on, there will be a few I will go on to catch full sets of because this festival was only a taste of all the best and not the large portion you would need to be full. After all, This Ain't No damn Picnic.

Words by: Rob Shepyer

Photos by: Michelle Corvino

 

 
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                    [post_content] => 90's alternative music is having an organic and overlooked revival that is making for some of the best rock and roll of this decade. Whether it be the post-grunge sounds of Culture Abuse or the hardcore infused shoegaze of Nothing, you should get into these bands before you miss the boat.


related content: NOTHING Unhinge Echoplex Audience By Bending Sonic Waves
Having just released an album and made the cover of Revolver magazine, Nothing is riding a wave at the moment with a cult-like following of hardcore kids that fell in love with gaze. This new album, "Dance on the Black Top" is for my money, the band's best. You'd think that would make this Part Time Punks show at The Regent something magical to me but such wasn't exactly the case. Nothing isn't a bad live band, they're just hit or miss. Hit or miss because something is missing. What great live music does, which is suspend your thinking mind and connect everyone by making them forget themselves, Nothing achieves this phenomenon better on record than in performance.



It's a big deal when Part Time Punks moves from the Echo or Echoplex to the Regent and opening up the night in the theme of shoegaze was Ohio's Smut. Their sound was soft and enveloping and as is standard for shoe gaze, the singer not only looked down at her shoes but kept her hands in her pockets for most of the performance. So intentionally lacking was the charisma that simply removing her hoodie, brought another level of excitement to the performance.







Next was Seattle's Big Bite, a band with a name that suites their style because their alternative rock sound takes a bigger bite out of the atmosphere, moving you. It's funny, in retrospect, seeing how boring alternative can get when the bar for spectacle is so low, it almost makes you wish grunge never killed glam metal at all.



Mopping up the mopey feels of the evening and letting everyone release the joy they'd been suppressing was Culture Abuse. Every time I see this band the crowd reacts in such a heightened and reckless way. It's beautiful. The downside of seeing Culture Abuse as often as I have was that it began feeling routine. The difference was that this show was my first since the band released their 2018 album Bay Dream which features just the kind of songwriting I feel music is lacking. Songs like "Bee Kind to the Bugs" deliver on so many levels live, with singer David Kelling screaming his throat raw. Seeing Culture Abuse is this primal, lively, momentous event, that is accessible enough to bring out the best in everyone that sees them. Now do you think a shoe gaze band that starts their set around 11pm would follow this well?








related content: New Album Review: NOTHING - Tired Of Tomorrow
I guess Nothing did okay for a late set after a draining night. The diehards seemed into it while the casual fans were bored. I have trouble believing these devotees were as into the music as they made it seem. I think these fans get caught up in the band as a concept and their place in the scene. It's one part Dominic Palermo worship and another not wanting to be a dick and hate on something even though you know it's bad.



If you were to close your eyes and attend this Nothing show, the sound, though loud, would give you the impression the band was coasting through their set. Then if you were deaf and attending this Nothing show, you'd think the music was this insane, monstrous noise, watching these guys beat their instruments and bounce off the walls on stage.



There were moments I wasn't bored though, during songs like "Us/We/Are", "The Carpenter's Son", "Vertigo Flowers", and the evening's closer "Eaten by Worms". My heart (but not my body) was thrilled by the musical ecstasy created by such violent and intense playing. Near the end of the set, Dominic Palermo threw his guitar into the audience, letting them have at it likes dogs. All this in mind, as much as I like Nothing and their records, I can't honestly say this was their best performance.





Words by: Rob Shepyer

Photos by: Dillon Vaughn

 

 
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My night began with loading up on free booze provided by a high end art show. After cruising through all the pretty pictures and people and pounding down as many Peroni’s as I could, I bounced out early, opting for more contact, a rush, an absorbing experience… like bathing in the shoegaze riffs of Philadelphia band, NOTHING who were playing a show at The Echoplex.

Ubering out to Silverlake, trading Hollywood glitz for hipster art farts, while buzzing drunk with a dead phone, my driver turned onto Glendale blvd and crept beneath the bridge that loomed over the line of kids that stretched down the block. They stood there, marinating in the pain of missing out because they knew they weren’t getting in. Be quick or be dead. This is LA and Nothing is playing. Don’t you know Nothing sells out LA?



I cruised into the Echoplex, mid set of Miami band Wrong with their heavy, alt rock sound. They put everything out on the table in this pounding communion, bouncing up and down, making the stage their bitch. The audience followed suit, jumping and jiving in a pure mess of rock. Their sound reminded me of the heavier 90’s grunge bands like Tad and the Melvins, decent doses of sludge but clean riffs too to keep you breaking in between the head bobs.

I started taking requests and a smooth Jameson on the rocks was just what the music ordered. Like the cubes in my drink, I would be soaked and submerged in a liquid warmth that would melt my mind and sync body to the sound’s wavelength.



Inebriated and longing to connect, lo and behold a drunken rocker took the stage and with refreshing honesty confessed, in that hilarious white boy kind of way, just how fucked up he was. Culture Abuse singer, David Kelling, commiserated to us about getting too drunk too fast and how people should stop showing up late to concerts because he had been outside trying to give away free tickets to people that hadn’t even shown up yet. He pumped up the crowd urging us to let go and have as much fun as possible and after a good laugh, we took his advice to heart and got rowdy. Culture Abuse’s sound captures equal parts grunge and hardcore punk in a fresh, San Francisco way. Although he was drunk, Kelling’s performance wasn’t hindered even one iota. He delivered the vocals with passion and desperation, pumped up from his bruising boozing. They reminded me of UK’s Basement but better, American. Every member of the band was tearing it up on stage and that effort would be the link between every band performing tonight. Even though the music feels beautiful and serene at times, creating it costs equal amounts of pain weighed in sweat to beauty measured in depth.

Philadelphia’s NOTHING was played in by ambient noise that prepared us all to be unhinged by the band’s bending of sonic waves. When they took the stage, they pounded their guitars and drums

down 

down 

down 

to dust, building up that wall of sound and blowing up bombs of noise. This was musical D-Day. Their bassist took the center of the stage while the two guitarist/vocalists were on either side, the band’s leader Dominic Palermo on my right. They hit the ground running, kicking the jams right out of the gate, playing Vertigo Flowers, the new album’s first single, as their second song. They played much of Tired of Tomorrow with splashes of Guilty of Everything throughout, showcasing the tranquilizing powers of shoegaze while never losing that punk skeleton beneath it all. The band’s music got the crowd bouncing, stage diving, and crowd surfing in some sections and dozing off into dreamland in others. Sometimes those stage dives would kamikaze bonsai drop those drifters out of their trips and just like the music, a beautiful but rude awakening would occur.

Palermo is a funny dude, down home, the kind of guy I would hang out with. His stage banter sounded like how my friends and I talk, say whatever’s on our minds, lots of cursing, funny as fuck.

“We are YG, coming all the way from Bompton,” Palermo introduced the band.

I’ve seen many heavy bands at the Echoplex and one thing singers often do is throw their mics up, arcing over the audience to hang off the wooden beam that runs across the ceiling. Palermo took it one step further in the middle of a song’s bombastic climax and threw his whole fucking guitar up, so that it hung by its cord over the beam and fell just over the audience’s heads. It could’ve been an insurance nightmare but as with great performers, it all sorta worked out and the kids would reach up, grab at the strings, and let their own distortions feed over the speakers. Eventually the audience pulled the guitar down and passed it around, keeping it hidden for the rest of the show until Palermo asked for it back by the last song.



“If this were Philly that guitar would’ve been taken out and pawned off then that money would’ve been used for heroin and the guy would’ve OD’d already,” Palermo joked.

With the main set finished, I pushed into the crowd while the fools made their way out. After a set like that, they’re not going anywhere without an encore, not if we can help it. After the crowd came to a fever pitch, ready to riot, Nothing returned on stage to play two more songs, one of which was an amazing shoegaze cover of Radiohead’s Creep that sent chills up everyone’s spine.

By the time the lights turned back on and we were all shaken back to reality from this dream of blue, magenta, and hot white sounds and lights; I left with a humming in my ear that wouldn’t stop. Like the wall of sound nestled densely between my ear socket and drum, taking Nothing with me into the Silverlake midnight.

Nothing sold out the Echoplex but more than that, they felt like one of those bands that would be embraced by Los Angeles so tightly that we would make this their second home. It’s safe to say LA is built for shoegaze, tall buildings with plenty of space in between. Don’t believe me? Put on Tired of Tomorrow in your car and just get lost.

Photos: Todd Anderson


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                    [post_content] => “And never have I felt so deeply at one and the same time so detached from myself and so present in the world.” – Albert Camus

This is a review of Tired of Tomorrow by Philadelphia band, NOTHING being released on May 13th on Relapse Records.

I like any band described as lush, an adjective commonly attached to Shoegaze, a style of rock that uses copious amounts of distortion to make melodic walls of ethereal sound. The name Shoegaze was attached to these artists because one reporter noticed they stared down at the stage rather than at the audience. Nothing, with their blending of ambient and punk, is a band that doesn’t make me want to gaze at my shoes but rather gaze up at the night sky as if it’s the fourth of July and I just broke up with my girlfriend and I’m watching fireworks with tear glazed eyes, smiling because I’m still alive.

Nothing, made up of Domenic Palermo (guitar/vocals), Brandon Setta (guitar/vocals), Kyle Kimball (drums), Nick Bassett (bass), brings elements of punk, hardcore, and alternative to Shoegaze that line its wall of sound with razor wire. I listen to them and think of bands like Husker Du, My Bloody Valentine, and even Tad and Mudhoney.



The first track on their 2016 album Tired of Tomorrow, Fever Queen begins with distorted banging on the guitar that soon tumbles into that creamy, melodic dream music. The pace quickly changes with The Dead are Dumb, with a slow, dark guitar and drum beat until they reconstruct that wall of sound. At some point I expected flowers to bloom out of my speakers. “Isn’t it quite the same, isn’t it such a shame, too heavy for the lightness, weightless in the rain, all our words are wasted.” The bands lyrics perfectly marry their sound in poetic reverie.

Vertigo Flowers, the album’s third track and first single, hits the ground running into dance-able and hop-able rock. “And I hate everything you're saying, Anxiety It's all about me, Watch out for those who dare to say that everything will be ok, Watch out for those who want to be anything at all, They're coming for me.” Cryptic depictions of anxiety, paranoia and a critique on mass communication are themes that run throughout the album. Check out Vertigo Flowers’ music video too, it’s pretty rad.

ACD (Abcessive Compulsive Disorder) feels a bit more 90’s alternative than the songs thus far. “Can someone find a cure? Because you know me and you know I am not well.” More than any other genre, Shoegaze is able to capture the beauty of one’s own internal struggles. There’s a certain joy that comes out of that kind of strife, it’s the reassurance that you’re alive.

Nineteen Ninety Heaven is a hallucinatory slow dive into depression. “I’m living in a dream, life’s a nightmare.”

Curse of the Sun keeps the heavy alt rock riffs kicking glued between lulling transitions.

Eaten by Worms steps on the brake with a slow strumming solo guitar that leads into sludgy riffing. The song ends with peaking guitars that just keep getting louder and more epic until fizzling out into distortion. “It’s unavoidable, it’s unattainable, it’s uncontrollable, but you know.” What happens after you die? The ultimate Nothing? I love cryptic lyrics that make me feel like I know exactly what the band is alluding too. I bet every person’s different interpretation would reveal a different mental disorder.

Distorted acoustic guitars lead in Everyone Is Happy, which ironically and expectedly still sounds a bit sad though the piano on the track is sure to make you smile. Our Plague features some interesting drum rhythms by Kimball beneath the hazy vocals and plunging riffs.

The album’s title and closing track features a grim piano that feels like it’s being played by an old widower. When Palermo’s hushed vocals enter the song it becomes a stroll through the graveyard. Without apology, the band’s disparity is never quite as stark. A cello is introduced to dance with the piano and the vocals become a whisper. "Stranded in today, clawing from the outside, and I'm tired of tomorrow on the inside."

The last sound on the album is the spoken line: “This is what God is.” –

So what is this album actually about? I think it’s a meditation on individual detachment in the modern world. Shoegaze is detaching in its DNA. Modern life forces us to be constantly engaged in monotony as we are bombarded by meaningless images and words. It leaves us feeling empty, existing but dead inside. Tomorrow seems more and more terrifying the more we are reduced to powerless statistics and consumers. There’s such an abundance of information and bull-shit that detachment is the only means of coping. Constantly assimilating EVERYTHING, how else can we end but with Nothing?
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            [post_content] => Goldenvoice has been on a roll, especially with their Rose Bowl based festivals, hosting special gatherings on sacred grounds. These two to three day festivals they've been churning out have all featured incredible lineups and have allowed audiences to see numerous artists that could each play at the Greek, Shrine or Bowl all on one giant, dusty field inside a literal melting pot. From Pasadena Daydream with the Cure to Arroyo Seco with Neil Young, Goldenvoice is building up a powerful Pasadena legacy. This Ain't No Picnic hosted artists that represented our modern rock and roll heroes like Sparks, Le Tigre, The Strokes and LCD Soundsystem, but also the cream of next crop of legends like Turnstile, Caroline Polachek, Yves Tumor, Magdalena Bay, Ethel Cain, King Woman, and Idles. Mark my words, these artists will be massive headliners in the decades to come and on that day, we'll look back to lineups like This Ain't No Picnic's and be in awe of how so many huge artists were assembled on the same bill.
related content: Arroyo Seco: The Nostalgic, The Timeless, and the Real
Day 1
Getting to drive on the greens of a golf course to find my parking spot began my day at This Ain't No Picnic with fun. Once I stepped onto the festival grounds and found my way to Genesis Owusu, it became an indisputable fact that life was good and all things shinning. Every festival in this space is incredibly hot, you need to stay hydrated but also keep a cool mental space which is what Genesis Owusu did, coming out on stage in full black and red attire along with three masked men dancing and backing up his vocals. Genesis has more swag and drip than anyone in the worlds of funk and soul today, coming from Australia he's an outsider looking in on Western music and giving it a unique jive the same way Australia's modern rock monsters have given us new takes on psych rock. With singles like "WUTD" and "Good Times" Genesis is an artist who's music speaks for itself, my words can't possibly give you an idea of how much fun it is to dance to these jams whether it's in the club or on a hot, carefree day.







One of the major draws of this lineup, no matter your age, had to have been Ying Yang Twins. With so many club bangers and classics of the Atlanta hip hop scene under their belts, these two are legends of rap that you're familiar with no matter when you grew up. People came out of the woodwork for this set and jived for every song they bust out, from "Salt Shaker" to "Wait (The Whisper Song)" and Ms. New Booty". Every listener had to realize that every song played was a hit at some point. Still, for me this festival was more about artists expanding the musical frameworks they worked within, so the novelty of Ying Yang Twins ran out fast and I made my way to Yves Tumor to catch the rest of his set, an ultra-sexual love fest and rock and roll frenzy that felt like you were watching Prince on LSD while you were on ecstasy. Yves is one of the only remaining true artists left in rock, expressing himself totally, without adhering to any rules. Which is why some people find his gender-bending problematic, the fact that's he's straight yet signaling to queer people bothers those who adhere to a rule set, Yves doesn't care though and I doubt he ever will.
related content: Art's Spirit Animal: Yves Tumor at the OC Observatory








I stayed at the main stage for Courtney Barnett. As such a principal player in indie and psych rock, I'm ashamed to admit this was my first time seeing her. I immediately understood why she's so popular though, within a few songs she struck me as one part Bob Dylan, another part Lou Reed, and lastly, another part Kim Gordon. She has a poet's way about her with that sort of sagely street-spirit vocal cadence to boot, yet she goes for noise and fuzz like Kim would, electrifying her lyrics and storytelling with a feel that penetrates directly to the heart of the underground until it takes on that underground's own pulse. I moseyed over to Ethel Cain at the Greens stage to get a few songs in at the end of her set which she concluded with a harrowing and powerful rendition of "Crush". Ethel seems to be on track to take up the same space that Lana Del Rey once occupied, only for an even more disaffected youth. I only wish she still dressed as a cult leader at her shows instead of going for some kind of casual 90's look.
related content: Photo Recap: Ethel Cain at the Masonic Lodge at Hollywood Forever






Since first seeing her perform with George Clanton, I've been a big fan of Magdalena Bay. Her art captures the complexity and grandiosity of the multiverse, whether as reality or fiction, from the perspective of a ditsy, unique feminine lens. Like Dune meets Britney Spears. It's actually an ingenious way to size-down the universe into a more digestible dose which can then transmute into the most poetic pop music. I scrambled back to the main stage to see Kaytranada, one of the most talented and suave modern DJs and producers. That said, although his tunes were cool, the show was so stripped, just him and his decks, that there was some desired quality of overwhelming energy and groove that was simply missing. We returned to the opposite end of the festival where punk rock legends Circle Jerks were playing. As a punk myself, I felt ashamed that my desire for new musical experiences overrode my desire to stay true to my scene, still though, destiny would have it that I would return to my roots. The Circle Jerks might be old and their music might be for older people but it sounded and felt fresher than the DJ playing for all the kids across the field.
related content: Time is an Illusion: The Circle Jerks at Pappy and Harriet's






If I had any single complaint about This Aint No Picnic it's that nearly every major artist conflicted with another. You had to choose constantly or enjoy half sets of both artists. I wasn't a fan of Jungle coming into this festival but after experiencing two songs before bouncing to Le Tigre, I have set my sights on seeing them the next time they perform no matter where they play. Going to Le Tigre and experiencing the whole set of their epic reunion was probably the right decision. This art-punk trio put on an incredible show that felt cutting edge and quirky, inspiring every artist in the crowd to add more pop and punk sensibility to any avant-garde ideas they might be playing with. Musically, the band sounded like any of their songs could've appeared in an Austin Powers soundtrack. LCD Soundsystem sounded perfect. Everything about the performance was tight and spot on. Getting to hear my favorite song by them right away as the 2nd in their set was great because I could feel fulfilled as I left the festival early to mend my broken body after walking around so much trying to see every band in the brutal heat.
Day 2
I suppose the way most people plan out their festival is by coming later in the day, not caring much for the early bands to arrive when it's not as hot and every artist onstage is a hot ticket. Me though? I could never miss out on artists like Spellling playing early so I dragged my broken body out of bed to face that sweltering sun one more time to arrive at the Rose Bowl early and see her do her special thing. Spellling's version of alternative R&B is like nothing before it, she channels an epic, almost Disney quality, to her theatrical and poetic sound. Rarely do you hear magic realism in R&B music but Spellling's nature is to constantly break and change frameworks.





It was great to see Mdou Moctar in a festival setting instead of a club show to see how an audience that didn't come for him would respond and as it turned out, much of the festival were in fact, his people. They came out in full force and with full energy, dancing to Mdou's wild desert guitar rock harder than for any artist the entire weekend. The post-punk duo known as Wet Leg have been hailed as one of the genre's best bands of the genre, crafting a sound that is cool, sly and poetic. They were the perfect sound to enchant a sunny LA day with pleasant, sweet energy but I wouldn't say there was as much rock and roll as advertised or as much darkness as desired.









I was listening to Deafheaven's New Bermuda on my drive to the festival knowing they would probably be performing songs off Infinite Granite, their first total foray out of metal music. Hearing these songs live for the first time, it wasn't the Deafheaven I was accustomed to and didn't gel with my sensibilities as much as I wished, though I would say their shoegaze is still more dynamic than many in that world. I gravitated over to Caroline Polachek's set to see the one pop singer of our time that a punk gets the green-light to love. With as many underground shows as I frequent, seeing a polished pop show was a rare treat that I enjoyed. Caroline sang and danced her heart out, capturing the audience's spirit with songs like "Door".













Before the festival, I posted a poll to decide whether I should see Sparks or Idles performing in this time slot. Idles dominated Sparks, showing the age of our audience and their lack of reverence to the iconic Sparks Brothers. Though it was possible to catch 15 minutes of Idles, I wanted to see Sparks' full set form a good spot so I got there early and near the front. Their set, though short, was full of the many magic qualities that made this band so legendary. From the humor, to the songwriting to the dynamic relationship between Russel and Ron Mael, both of which are still so talented after all these years. I can't help but love Phoebe Bridgers with all my heart. I find her music completely enchanting and emotionally powerful. Her stories of growing up in Pasadena and how she instills them into her hometown performances always touch me. Then her penchant for metal music and her intro to Disturbed's "Sickness" is a welcome homage to the main musical scene I love.







Beach House was bar-none the best set of the weekend. They pulled out all the stops to make their psych rock powerful and emotionally palpable enough to launch the entire festival into outer space. I only caught half of their set because I wanted to see The Strokes but spiritually, I knew the right move would've been to stay inside Beach house's aura till the very end. The band's playing was tight and impeccable, everyone working off each other as they were hidden by a light show that put the music under a hotter spotlight that only made it more transcendent. With a headlining slot at a festival like This Ain't No Picnic, I had to ask myself if The Strokes were worthy of the mantle they were being given. Not the mantle of headliners but the mantle of being the biggest rock and roll band of our time. The Rolling Stones of the new world. When millennials grow old, will the Strokes still be around playing arenas? Are their songs as relevant to us as "Gimme Shelter" is to the boomer generation? There were moments of this set that answered these questions with a definite "yes". People responded so passionately to the band, giving them so much love and energy and really feeling their music as they sung along. If it's destined for these New York legends of indie sleaze to become the kings of rock and roll, then I suppose I have to accept it. Who else would deserve the throne after all these years? Every other contender rose to the highest ranks of music by making forms of rock and roll that were flashy and not old school. The Strokes have always been pure. Rock and roll and nothing but. You never wonder and dissect what genres they were dabbling in. It was always just rock.

















All in all, This Ain't No Picnic was cool. It allowed me to see many of the hot artists I had been waiting to catch all within one weekend. From here on, there will be a few I will go on to catch full sets of because this festival was only a taste of all the best and not the large portion you would need to be full. After all, This Ain't No damn Picnic.

Words by: Rob Shepyer

Photos by: Michelle Corvino

 

 
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Stroking to LCD: This Ain’t No Picnic

Rob Shepyer September 7, 2022

Goldenvoice has been on a roll, especially with their Rose Bowl based festivals, hosting special gatherings on sacred grounds. These two to three day festivals they’ve been churning out have all featured incredible lineups and have allowed audiences to see numerous artists that could each play at the Greek, Shrine or Bowl all on one giant, dusty field inside a literal melting pot. From Pasadena Daydream with the Cure to Arroyo Seco with Neil Young, Goldenvoice is building up a powerful Pasadena legacy. This Ain’t No Picnic hosted artists that represented our modern rock and roll heroes like Sparks, Le Tigre, The Strokes and LCD Soundsystem, but also the cream of next crop of legends like Turnstile, Caroline Polachek, Yves Tumor, Magdalena Bay, Ethel Cain, King Woman, and Idles. Mark my words, these artists will be massive headliners in the decades to come and on that day, we’ll look back to lineups like This Ain’t No Picnic’s and be in awe of how so many huge artists were assembled on the same bill. related content: Arroyo Seco: The Nostalgic, The Timeless, and the Real Day 1 Getting to drive on the greens of a golf course to find my parking

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Nirvana Leads to Nothing… at the Regent

Rob Shepyer September 25, 2018

90’s alternative music is having an organic and overlooked revival that is making for some of the best rock and roll of this decade. Whether it be the post-grunge sounds of Culture Abuse or the hardcore infused shoegaze of Nothing, you should get into these bands before you miss the boat. related content: NOTHING Unhinge Echoplex Audience By Bending Sonic Waves Having just released an album and made the cover of Revolver magazine, Nothing is riding a wave at the moment with a cult-like following of hardcore kids that fell in love with gaze. This new album, “Dance on the Black Top” is for my money, the band’s best. You’d think that would make this Part Time Punks show at The Regent something magical to me but such wasn’t exactly the case. Nothing isn’t a bad live band, they’re just hit or miss. Hit or miss because something is missing. What great live music does, which is suspend your thinking mind and connect everyone by making them forget themselves, Nothing achieves this phenomenon better on record than in performance. It’s a big deal when Part Time Punks moves from the Echo or Echoplex to the Regent and opening up the

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NOTHING Unhinge Echoplex Audience By Bending Sonic Waves

Rob Shepyer June 25, 2016

My night began with loading up on free booze provided by a high end art show. After cruising through all the pretty pictures and people and pounding down as many Peroni’s as I could, I bounced out early, opting for more contact, a rush, an absorbing experience… like bathing in the shoegaze riffs of Philadelphia band, NOTHING who were playing a show at The Echoplex. Ubering out to Silverlake, trading Hollywood glitz for hipster art farts, while buzzing drunk with a dead phone, my driver turned onto Glendale blvd and crept beneath the bridge that loomed over the line of kids that stretched down the block. They stood there, marinating in the pain of missing out because they knew they weren’t getting in. Be quick or be dead. This is LA and Nothing is playing. Don’t you know Nothing sells out LA? I cruised into the Echoplex, mid set of Miami band Wrong with their heavy, alt rock sound. They put everything out on the table in this pounding communion, bouncing up and down, making the stage their bitch. The audience followed suit, jumping and jiving in a pure mess of rock. Their sound reminded me of the heavier 90’s grunge bands like

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New Album Review: NOTHING- Tired of Tomorrow

Rob Shepyer May 9, 2016

“And never have I felt so deeply at one and the same time so detached from myself and so present in the world.” – Albert Camus This is a review of Tired of Tomorrow by Philadelphia band, NOTHING being released on May 13th on Relapse Records. I like any band described as lush, an adjective commonly attached to Shoegaze, a style of rock that uses copious amounts of distortion to make melodic walls of ethereal sound. The name Shoegaze was attached to these artists because one reporter noticed they stared down at the stage rather than at the audience. Nothing, with their blending of ambient and punk, is a band that doesn’t make me want to gaze at my shoes but rather gaze up at the night sky as if it’s the fourth of July and I just broke up with my girlfriend and I’m watching fireworks with tear glazed eyes, smiling because I’m still alive. Nothing, made up of Domenic Palermo (guitar/vocals), Brandon Setta (guitar/vocals), Kyle Kimball (drums), Nick Bassett (bass), brings elements of punk, hardcore, and alternative to Shoegaze that line its wall of sound with razor wire. I listen to them and think of bands like Husker

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