#it was ALL songs. this crazy gem of a station played all sorts of music

[theinkchild]

i realized why i listen to my local radio station so much recently... cuz i never associated any of this insane library of music they play with anyone in my life..

[dannymayevent]

Great work @paper-glasses completing the daily calendar! It was great seeing all of the different art works you came up with!

This fic was created by @phandom-phriend for your day 29 prompt Heat

*tw mentions of death, parental fights

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Ever since she saw those people on the TV screen with their loud instruments and voices, with their crazy hair colors and even wilder outfits, Ember knew she wanted, needed, to be part of that. Her parents were always quick to turn off the television when these bands came on, or change the radio station when something particularly loud or out of their comfort zones came on. But even at nine, that couldn’t stop Ember.

The second she had the chance, she found herself in the music room of her school. It wasn’t much, seeing as the school was for elementary students who couldn’t really grasp the idea of complexity quite yet, but she was desperate to get her small hands on something. Anything. The teacher was more than happy to help with her little hobby, taking the time to teach her things about rhythm and notes. Teaching her how each part worked to create the whole of what would later be heard on the radio by thousands.

Ember was entranced.

In middle school the very first thing she did was join the band. It wasn’t quite what she wanted, but even that tiny drum set served as the perfect outlet. Her parents had been fighting more and more lately, but because they were so absorbed in their own petty fights they didn’t even notice that she often returned home late from practice. It worked for her in that way, seeing as music still didn’t really seem to be their ‘thing’, but when she actually wanted for their eyes to look her way…

So Ember tried. She tried so hard to excel in all her classes, in her band performance, even in her chores to try and turn those angry glares into proud fondness like it used to be. Or maybe it was never like that and it was simply her child mind making the best of things. But it is a goal she strived to achieve in some sort of way from the moment she wakes up to the moment she goes to bed each night.

In the end, her grades slipped. Ember was still trying so hard, but it wasn’t enough. She couldn’t bring herself to focus on her studies the same way that she focused on music. No matter what she tried, she just couldn’t get the same joy from reading or equations that she got from beats and lyrics. Sitting in a classroom could never have the same appeal as being on a stage, but it seems that kind of logic doesn't work on teachers or state tests. Who knew?

In eighth grade, a friend of hers introduced her to the guitar. It was something her dad kept propped up in the living room corner. The previous times she had been over, Ember had thought the item was merely a decoration to ‘tie the room together’. But when he found Ember staring at it and offered to teach her, that was a moment she could never forget for the rest of her life.

Feeling those strings under her fingertips. The way her heart beat with each sound that strummed from the instrument with only a slight movement of her hand. The way it sent shivers down her spine with the absolute feeling of power and pride dancing in her veins with every new note. This was her instrument. The guitar called to her in a way that drums and flutes and clarinets never had. She knew that from that moment on, she would do everything in her grasp to keep this feeling with her.

At sixteen she is no longer in band, but instead choir. They had recruited her during freshman year and she found that she enjoyed singing just as much as she enjoyed the guitar. The freedom and range it gave her, the chances for solos and the spotlight. For all those eyes on her. Her parents never came to a show, but when the stage lights flashed in her eyes so that the crowd became nothing but shadows, it was easy to pretend they approved. To pretend things were okay and that she would see them after the show. To prove her worth was more on the stage than it could ever be on paper.

Now she is also working part time at some stupid diner. It’s totally not her scene with the overly stressed coworkers and the customers that pretend to know their jobs better than they do. The grease from the food and the same six songs playing during her long shifts aren’t quite the excitement she’s looking for. Not to mention the tacky uniform that totally clashes with her bright red curls…

So if she keeps waiting for a Help Wanted sign to appear in the window of the record shop across the street, who really needs to know?

But it pays well. Well enough that she finally, finally, gets what she’s been wanting for so long. An electric guitar of her very own, colors customized to shine perfectly in the spotlights glow. Holding that gem in her hands for the first time nearly brought her to her knees. This, this right here in her thin hands, is her legacy. This shop in this small town is going to be the start of something great, it’s just that no one else knows it yet.

At eighteen it’s her senior year and she refuses to graduate without doing something she deems herself as great. So without a second thought she signs up for some talent show with a grand prize of $5,000 and a record deal. She has to drive three states away and skip a few school days to make the auditions, but school work and attendance has never stopped her before.

A week later, she got an email congratulating her on making it into the first round.

And just like that she began to shoot up to the top like a rocket going to the depths of space. Ember won round after round after round. Sure, seeing the crying faces of her competition that got sent home wasn’t a good feeling. But the feeling of being so close to stardom, being recognized as one of the best, let those negative feelings be drowned out. They all may have had dreams, but she did too. And she wasn’t going to give hers up for anything or anyone.

And then

She

Won

She won the competition, driving all over the country to different venues to perform her way to the top all by herself. All those hours practicing, all those moments where she chose not to give in when the rest of the world told her to, lead up to this moment. This very moment where the gold and silver confetti falls from the ceiling accompanied by matching balloons. This moment where the judges she's seen face to face countless times over the course of this journey walk up to her with a golden trophy. This moment where she gets to choose which record label she wants to sign to.

This moment where she is truly free.

Then came time for her first live performance. Her hair all tied up, makeup done in a way to leave an impression. Outfit displaying all the power and ferocity within. This would be her debut song to the world. The first pillar after a long string of stepping stones leading her to the fame she has desired since she was small. Her parents still aren’t in the crowd, but that’s okay now. Now she has fans that watched her journey cheering her name. And the only way she plans to go is up.

Except that didn’t happen. Halfway through her song there was an… accident. One of the stage crew members didn’t properly put out their cigarette backstage and started a small fire. It could have been easily handled, but the assistant who found it panicked and fanned it with the papers they had been holding, unintentionally making the flames bigger.

By the time Ember realized the heat wasn’t from her workout of working her stage magic, but from the hidden flames backstage, it was already too late. The rope they had used in place of the rusted metal beam that once held one of the spotlights burned.

The rope burned and the light came tumbling down, down, down. All she could do was look up into it as the bulb flickered out. Look up and hope against all hope that this wasn’t it. That there would be more to her story.

“... But I woke up in the ghost zone instead of some hospital bed. Years had already passed by the time I manifested and everyone… everyone had already forgotten about me. Just another news story. Well, they did change the safety measures for stage performances after that. So I guess that’s a win.” Ember sighed, looking out at the stars above them. Sometimes it hurt to look at them, all twinkling and bright above her.

Sometimes she worries that one might fall.

“I’m… sorry, Ember.” Danny said sadly. He knew that all ghosts had their story, a reason they remained. But hearing them never got easier. The pain of having lost everything just to be stuck in some kind of in-between is a burden that feels like it’s too much to bear, but there is no escaping it either.

“It’s okay. Well, it’s not, but you don’t have to be sorry.”

“I wish I could help you.”

“Well, you could let me perform my hypnotizing show without issues.”

Danny laughed and shook his head. “Fat chance. Unless you can do it without the whole mind control thing, I don’t think that can work.”

“Aw, you’re no fun.” Ember laughed back before standing up “Well, maybe one tame show wouldn’t be so bad.”

The halfa stood up after her and smiled. “Then it’s a deal. The mayor owes me one, so I’m sure I can get you a great stadium attendance.”

“You know…. You’re not so bad, kid.”

“Neither are you.”

The two stayed silent for a moment, simply looking out to the stars, both of them thinking about their broken dreams caused by being a ghost. So many things were lost or taken from them. But that’s the funny thing about being broken, sometimes your edges line up with someone else's. Sometimes with someone you would never even expect.

[dustedmagazine]

Listed: The Black Watch

The Black Watch plays jangly power pop with a psychedelic haze. Its sole continuous member, songwriter John Andrew Fredrick, has made 18 Black Watch albums so far, full of gem-like, oddball songs that evoke Teenage Fanclub and the Bevis Frond. Of the latest, Brilliant Failures, Jennifer Kelly wrote, “If you like smart lyrics tossed casually over the shoulder, exquisite melodies blurred and buried under guitar wail, ephemeral pop pleasures that latch on stubbornly and enduringly in your ear, you’ll probably like The Black Watch.”

The Beatles—Revolver

To start at the start, my love for The Beatles simply can’t be overestimated/understated. If their almighty double album evinces in a “writ large” way just how ambitious (and with what astonishing range) the Fabs could be, Revolver is also a record that simply has everything: rocking, bouncing-jolly songs; a stringsy storytelling session; peppy horns for pumped-up people; a drone to die for (those “Indian” whoops!); and my favorite song of all time (And Your Bird Can Sing). Gone is the mystery behind most bands that we so very cherished/lived for in the 60s as kids. How we’d simply kill for any tidbits of info on J, P, G, & R. It’s a rare day that I don’t listen to The Beatles. I was lunching with band mate (and lead guitarist) Andy Creighton (who fronts his own wonderful band, The World Record) and our mutual friend Ben Eshbach from The Sugarplastic and Ben said: “Whenever someone dismisses The Beatles in some highfalutin way, I always think it’s mere posturing.” Truer words, sir. Truer words.

My Bloody Valentine—Isn’t Anything

When I first relocated to Los Angeles from Santa Barbara I got a job as an assistant editor at a paper that, quixotically, was trying to compete with the LA Weekly. The Relativity label was really good about sending me cassettes (!!!!) of “alt” bands. So in ’88 came a tape that changed my life nearly as much as The Beatles had done when I was a kid. Loveless has its proper apologists for greatest-shoegaze-LP-of-all-time but Isn’t Anything affects me more on account of—I think—it’s about the mystery (there’s that word again) of sex. I could not believe the news when I was told that MBV were playing the Club Lingerie. I think there were eleven or twelve people there—not many more. Old chum Craig Costigan was at that show with me (as well as The Lucy Show’s Santa Barbara debut—which made me form my band), as was then-band mate J’Anna Jacoby and future band mate Steven Schayer. The Valentines were so mind-blowing I can’t even tell you. Having lived in LA so long now, I’m never ever starstruck, but I remember just gawking at this Irish-English outfit. We went backstage just to look at those four heroes. This LP makes me crazy with happiness—and I still have it on cassette (for playing in the jeep).

Shelley—“Stanzas Written in Dejection, Near Naples”

Shelley’s my second favorite poet (top spot would go to T.S. Eliot) but this gorgeous lyric poem haunts me as it haunted me first time I read it in class as an undergrad at UCSB. Whenever I taught it in my poetry classes, I’m sure I waxed rhapsodic over it—much to the eye-rolling dismay or in some few cases delight of the students. Despite his uber-generous nature, Shelley seemed perpetually to find ways to F up his life and to occasion chaos (especially with the turnstile, as it were, of pretty women in his life) whithersoever he roamed. And roam he certainly did. I’ve myself sat on the shores round the bay of Naples; and the majestic beauty you find there doubtless induces a kind of melancholic state of mind, a la what you find in this incredible poem.

Stanley Kubrick—Barry Lyndon

Hands down my favorite film—by my favorite director. Have you not seen it? Oh, you’re in for such a treat. What an eye-banquet it is. Legendary stuff. Saw it in the theater in Goleta when it came out. And when I came out of that theater, I made plans to see it again the next day. Cue one’s obsessive-compulsive nature when it comes to great art. I really am the sort of person who can watch or listen to something I love again and again and again.

Echo and The Bunnymen—A Promise

The Bunnymen, along with The Lucy Show, were my greatest inspirations when we were starting out as the black watch. And to write a song like this—one that’s essentially one chord—is a veritable ambition to this day. The “cool” station in Santa Barbara, KTYD, played “Never Stop” from time to time, and that’s how I came upon these wonderful scousers. You try wearing a houndstooth greatcoat like Mac’s in summertime SB! It takes a heap of gumption and goofiness. But those were the days. Poseur days of callow alternative youth!

T.S. Eliot—Complete Poems and Plays

Wanna write above-average lyrics? Read as much Old Possum as you can. Despair that you’ll ever write half as well. Despair some more. Repeat. Rinse yourself of the literary influences you’ll never wash off. Repeat ad infinitum. Enjoy the silence and the majesty. See how I’m floundering to say anything worth noting? Impossibly powerful. Cue Wittgenstein’s observation about how whereof we cannot speak thereof we must not. No words. Eliot took them all. We’re just his flailing heirs.

Nabokov—Pale Fire

Here we have my favorite novel by my favorite novelist. And short story writer. Obsessively, I write on the first page of books the season/place I’ve read them in: I’ve read this book seventeen times now—in London, LA, Santa Barbara, New Zealand, Canada, and France. I love novelists who play games/tricks on the reader. My own humble works of comic fiction, admittedly, aren’t a patch on this towering giant of a book. One can but try! And never reach these heights. One of the wittiest, funniest, most puzzling-till-you-get-it books you’ll ever. Don’t wait till the world ends to read N’s masterpiece. Lolita—sure. But this thing? I mean, come on.

Justin Hayward and John Lodge—Blue Jays LP

Producer Rob Campanella and I often, while we’re tracking, take breaks to listen to The Moody Blues whom we love, love, love. They aren’t cool now and they weren’t cool when this side project first came out, but goddam if it didn’t get me through the music-snobby super-preppy high school I went to. Everyone was listening to Foghat or—I dunno—Zeppelin. Bellbottomy stuff with gobs of facial hair. I got laughed at for liking The Beach Boys too. Harken to the Harrisonian lead here by Justin Hayward (a very very under-rated guitarist); and oh the swooping-soaring strings. Gorgeousnessity. That’s not a word—and it shouldn’t be—but it fits.

The Black Watch—Brilliant Failures

I include this as I am a massive fan of what I do. Unabashedly. What’s the point of making something you’re not super into? I throw this in in order to point up how near the end of recording an album I almost always write one more song that becomes a single of sorts. I loved reading Robert Smith saying, “When I want to hear a great song, I write one.” He was—natch—winding up the press people and the punters, but he was also stating a truism: an artist makes something for him or herself. This eponymous song was the last one we tracked for the self-same LP. Rob went: “How in the world could you even think of leaving this off the LP, John!” And I said: “Well, I just wrote it last night. I always write a big fat catchy song after we think we’re done making the album.”

The Novels of Jean Rhys

Pick one. Any one. She’s addicting! Me, I’m in love with a dead woman!

[musiccomplin03]

Remembering Jerry Garcia's Musical Impact

Guest post by Elyadeen Anbar. This article with full links originally appeared Soundfly's Flypaper

Jerry Garcia was the lead guitarist of the Grateful Dead, a rock band formed in 1965 in San Francisco that forever changed how music is written, performed, distributed, and engaged with on a global scale. The Grateful Dead performed their last show on July 9, 1995, and Garcia was found passed away on August 9, 1995. He had just turned 53 years young.

Garcia lived a life dedicated to music, and has inspired my own life to be as musically-centric as possible. While many considered him the leader and spokesman of the Grateful Dead, he resented such responsibility and insisted that the group operated without leadership.

Garcia was also part of many different musical projects throughout his career, including his own band The Jerry Garcia Band, as well as various bluegrass and folk ensembles. Garcia contributed the pedal steel guitar solo to Crosby Stills Nash and Young's “Teach Your Children,” and worked with other Bay Area rock bands such as New Riders of the Purple Sage and Jefferson Airplane. The Dead would often perform in collaboration with other musicians, wherever they were in the world, such as Bob Dylan, Neil Young, Hamza El Din, Ornette Coleman, Etta James, and Branford Marsalis, just to name a few.

People tend to pigeonhole the Dead as being one single thing, whatever that is for people who haven't opted to give them very much ear-time, but they played the blues, straight rock, folk and bluegrass, jazz, and spent time exploring experimental approaches to sound-making and studio recording, and part of what made their live shows so incredibly unique given what else was happening in the '70s and '80s, was this sense of unpredictability and exploration.

Garcia and the Grateful Dead performing a free concert in the Haight, March 1968.

The story of the Grateful Dead is dense, rambling, and nearly unbelievable - and luckily, there's no shortage of literature out there on that subject if you want to explore. The band was at the center of the 1960s counterculture movement, and was born out of the ashes of the Beat generation, spearheaded by Ken Kesey, Neal Cassady, and Jack Kerouac. They were responsible for changing the way concert-goers experience live sound, as their Wall of Sound was the first ever PA system was designed to project clear, non-distorted sound across a great distance. (Imagine if the Beatles had one!)

The Dead also revolutionized concert promotion by allowing their fans to tape their shows and distribute them amongst each other freely, without worrying about obtaining rights or permission. This has since led to hundreds of “bootleg” live concerts being mixed, mastered and released commercially, further cementing the band's influence on millions of listeners.

Garcia was a wonderful intellectual, and always had profound and interesting things to say. He struggled with his vices for most of his life, and ultimately passed away due to a number of long-standing health issues. While nothing would satisfy me like a detailed retelling of the history of the his life and the Grateful Dead, I'd rather focus on Jerry Garcia the guitarist, and highlight a few musical moments of his that changed my life personally. So let's check out some music!

“Death Don't Have No Mercy” from Live/Dead (1969)

  Live/Dead was the band's first live concert recording, and it also happened to be the first album ever recorded to 16-track tape. This recording features passionate performance from Garcia and the rest of the band, an incredible demonstration of their early blues-band model as it was filtered and experimented with through their acid test years. The album itself is notable for bringing the energy and abandon of their live shows directly to people's homes, as they had struggled to find artistic fulfillment in the studio up until that point.

“Box of Rain” from American Beauty (1970)

  It never ceases to amaze me that the band you heard in the previous recording put out this record just a year later. The Dead explicitly decided to work hard to put out an album of American music that they could be proud of, one that focused on songs instead of wild exploration. American Beauty and it's companion record, Workingman's Dead, were both released in 1970, the result of a wonderfully prolific writing period, out of which came songs that were staples in their live shows for the next 25 years. Choosing between all of the songs to represent this album was a challenge, but I settled on “Box of Rain” for it's sublime chord progression, haunting guitar solo, and lyrical imagery. This lead vocals were sung by the band's bassist Phil Lesh. Other standout tracks include “Candyman,” “Friend of the Devil,” “Ripple,” “Brokedown Palace,” and the band's hit single, “Truckin',” but the entire album is a masterpiece and a necessary companion for your next road trip for sure!

“He's Gone” and “Morning Dew” from Europe '72 (1972)

    Speaking of road trips, the album Europe '72 features material that blends the band's experimental, psychedelic comfort zone mixed with their newer, roots music influence. “He's Gone” and “Morning Dew” were both released for the first time on this album - these live versions are considered definitive among die-hard Dead fans, although with the prevalence of live concert recordings, Dead fans have a wealth of material to sort through for argument's sake. “Morning Dew” emerges after over 7 minutes of free jazz weirdness, and is a Dead favorite. The story of this recording is also told in the 2017 documentary Long Strange Trip, but you'll have to see it to find out!

“Crazy Fingers” from One From the Vault (1975, officially released 1991)

  This concert was widely circulated as a bootleg among Dead fans until it was officially released as One From the Vault in 1991. In fact, it was the bands first ever official release of a full, unedited concert recording. The Dead had taken a brief pause and come back with a few new albums worth of material. This concert showcases music from their 1975 album Blues for Allah, which saw them writing in a more jazz-fusion color palette and writing complex, through-composed bridges. “Crazy Fingers” has always been a favorite of mine, and I love the way this one segues into a drum jam, and eventually into 'The Other One” (always keep listening!).

“Terrapin Station Medley” from Terrapin Station (1977)

  In 1977, the Dead had signed with Clive Davis' new company Arista, and he insisted on pairing them with an outside producer, Keith Olsen. While the band was not particularly satisfied with the glossy production, I've always loved this version of the title track - a multi-part jazz-rock odyssey, complete with lavish horn and string arrangements, crisp and dry '70s drum tracks, and some gorgeous lead guitar harmonies courtesy of Garcia. If you're looking for a live version, check out any concert release from the band's Spring 1977 tour, fans tend to consider this their “tightest” period, and the performances from this time reflect this.

“Althea” from Go To Nassau (1980)

  “Althea” first appeared on the Dead's 1980 studio album Go To Heaven, and I reserve a special place in my heart for this particular performance of the song. In fact, the whole concert was released in 2002 and spent most of my senior year of high school in the CD player of my car. Not much more to say about it, the '80s would prove to be the Dead's most commercially successful decade, so enjoy this nice slice of prime Deadery.

“I Shall Be Released” from Garcia Plays Dylan (1987, released in 2005)

  Garcia also had a prolific solo career, and a band of his own that would tour with relative frequency. To say the guy never took a day off from music is an understatement. Garcia also loved singing the music of Bob Dylan, one of his great influences. This version of “I Shall Be Released” is from a compilation called Garcia Plays Dylan, and features a variety of performances by Garcia, some with the Dead, but mostly featuring his solo band. This 1987 performance features his JGB collaborator Melvin Seals on organ.

Garcia once said of the Grateful Dead, “we're like licorice. Not everybody likes licorice, but the people who like licorice really like licorice.” Well, I like licorice, too, and I love the Dead. The more I learn about the band, the more I develop a deeper appreciation for their willingness to take risks, have fun and also get serious about creating music that would last forever, in addition to improvisations that are over the minute they happen. I also love how witty and hilariously out of touch they were in interviews. Check out this gem from Late Night with David Letterman in 1982.

This is just the tip of the Grateful Dead iceberg, of course! For those curious to learn more, Amir Bar Lev's documentary Long Strange Trip was released last year on Amazon Prime, and the book Dark Star: An Oral History of Jerry Garcia are both fantastic resources, as are YouTube, Spotify, and the incredible, somewhat insane, wealth of freely lstenable fan recordings on archive.org.

Happy trails, friends!

Don't forget to sign up for our exciting new email magazine, Soundfly Weekly, and learn a new musical skill every single Tuesday in your inbox!

Elyadeen Anbar is a guitarist, writer and educator residing in Los Angeles, CA. He has had the pleasure of contributing music and production to some of his favorite artists, and graced stages the world over. His work can be found at elyadeenanbar.com, soundcloud.com/mrs-walrus, and selfesteemmusic.tumblr.com.

[themusicenthusiast]

Sunday, May 6th, 2018 – Craft Brews and Punk Rock Icons and Rising Stars Collide as Punk in Drublic Fest Makes its Way South, Kicking Off the Spring Run with an Unforgettable Day in Fort Worth

Photos by Jordan Buford Photography Pairing punk music with a beer festival would probably be the antithesis of everything said style of music stands for. It could constitute as selling out, and there would surely be some individuals who would view it as such. But make that a craft beer festival and then it becomes a sort of holy matrimony, combining two different cultures where both bands and breweries are battling mainstream ideas and companies as they work to find their niche and capture an audience. And that is where the Fat Mike presents Punk In Drublic Craft Beer and Music Festival comes into play. A brainchild of NOFX’s lead vocalist and bassist "Fat" Mike Burkett, the event obviously takes its name from one of the groups’ most recognized albums, 1994’s Punk in Drublic; and even more appropriately Fat Mike teamed up with Stone Brewing to brew the NOFX themed Punk in Drublic Hoppy Lager. It’s really an interesting idea when you think about, especially considering that most craft beer festivals (at least the ones that typically take place in North Texas) cater to indie music fans. The Punk in Drublic festival instead being more dedicated to those subcultures of punk and craft beer. Originating as a 5-city west coast tour in late 2017, the event has since expanded, targeting six new markets in the spring of 2018, with Texas being the lone southern state on the schedule. Originally planning an Austin visit as well, that show was postponed and rescheduled for the fall due to the possibility of bad weather, making Fort Worth the first date of this traveling tour’s spring outing. It was a beautiful day for a festival, at least by Texas standards; and luckily the rain that had plagued the area just a few days before was no longer an issue. It was scorching, though. Every trace of shade was taken by early afternoon. For several that meant conserving their energy in the early hours of the fest, hanging out underneath the trees at the far end of Panther Island Pavilion. Patrons – which included some Austinite’s who had made the trek to North Texas, their original tickets being valid – were mostly unphased by the heat, though.

It was a festival. Getting sunburned came with the territory, the majority of attendees not going to let that hinder the experience as they milled about the grounds, exploring all the craft brew options and taking advantage of the free samplings that came with the ticket. The layout of it all was straightforward and quite nice. With some food trucks, drink stands and merch booths located at the middle point of the grounds, the brewery tents were all stationed at the opposite end from the stage. That allowed festivalgoers to hangout and chat if they wanted to, without having to shout over the music in order to be heard. However, the music did seem to take priority over the other aspects of Punk in Drublic. A lineup carefully curated by NOFX, it featured friends and bands they knew people would enjoy once they saw them. The Last Gang was one of those and they had been charged with kicking things off on this afternoon; the opening chords beckoning the few hundred spectators to come closer to the stage.

The trio comprised of Brenna Red, Robby Wantland and Sean Viele were feeling the heat. “It’s hot in California, but it’s really hot here!” Red -- the singer and guitarist -- remarked at one point. If it was getting to them they never allowed it to show, tearing through the half hour long set that they had, injecting it with copious amounts of venom and fury. She broke free from the microphone when she was able; Viele almost constantly roaming and darting about the stage, wielding his bass as a weapon. They were teeming with energy as they knocked out song after song, drawing from the recently released Keep Them Counting (out on Fat Wreck Chords). Polished just enough, their music still possessed that raw and gritty aspect that defines punk rock and it made quite the impression on everyone who had arrived in time for their 3:05 start time. Festivals are partly about introducing people to new bands, and The Last Gang was an excellent one to get a crash course in. They owned the stage for the time they had it, setting a high bar for even the well-established acts that were to follow, winning over a bunch of new fans in the process.

Firmly rooted in punk, each act on the lineup brought something different to the table, mining their own distinct sub-genre of the style. It was nice, allowing for a smorgasbord of sounds all within the same realm. Mad Caddies were the first of the older guard of musicians set to perform, their ska punk brand of music leaving the spectators feeling invigorated.

The seven-piece outfit powered through some technical difficulties early on. Sounding superb from the audience perspective, they were encountering some feedback on their end. “Let’s start that one over…” Chuck Robertson stated moments into their second number, equating the do over to being just like an eighth-grade class. After that brief setback it was smooth sailing for them; the rich and well textured “Brand New Scar” being an early highlight of their time on stage. Somewhat of a tranquil song, the ever-growing audience reacted strongly to it. The group even treated everyone to a cut from their forthcoming album. Punk Rocksteady (due for release on June 15th) will see Mad Caddies doing ska and reggae renditions of classic punk songs, one of which will be Green Day’s “She”. It bodes well for the rest of the record, because it’s a cover the way covers should be done. It was truly Mad Caddies own interpretation of the song, not merely them covering it, but restructuring it and their version sounded impeccable.

They were in fine form this afternoon. The horn section of Eduardo Hernandez and Mark Bush, on the trombone and trumpet, respectively, were as dynamic as could be, not only in terms of sound, but also the spirited enthusiasm that radiated from them. Their “obligatory love song”, “Drinking for 11” was all too appropriate for a day such as this, Robertson noting in advance of the song that it was at least a love song about drinking. Having about 45-minutes to work with in all, they filled it with plenty more gems and fan favorites, managing to hit everything fans most wanted to hear while still leaving people wishing Mad Caddies could have done more.

The intermission between bands allowed patrons ample time to wander around and explore all of the drinks being offered. Mid afternoon at that point, it was remarkable the amount of people beginning to make their way through the gates. The initial gathering of a few hundred was quickly increasing, hitting the thousand mark and climbing ever higher. When live music returned it was The Interrupters that were cranking it out; the Bivona brothers of Kevin, Justin and Jesse looking incredibly sharp (and hot) dressed in their suits. Aimee Interrupter rushed on stage moments later and then they were off on a rapid-fire assault that lasted much of the next hour. “A Friend Like Me” came across like some sort of anthem, one that established a solid rapport between musicians and onlookers, as if they were stressing to everyone they would not leave them disappointed. And indeed, they did not.

Interrupter maintained a steady gaze with the crowd, building further upon said rapport as she worked to capture everyone’s full attention. Justin was a live wire, not letting the heat get to him as he raced and jumped about the stage, contributing significantly to the high energy display that they maintained throughout their set. Their ska influences were on prominent display during “She’s Kerosene”, the lead single from the forthcoming Fight the Good Fight (due out on June 29th), which worked the crowd into more of a frenzy; the moshing growing more intense. On that note, one person spotted in the mosh pit was wearing a inflatable T-Rex costume, which was quite entertaining to watch.

The Interrupters’ first few songs in particular were carefully laid out, each one generating more excitement than the last; the group stopping only on a few occasions, either to introduce themselves or express their appreciation to people for coming out and listening. Including an explosive cover of Operation Ivy’s “Sound System”, they ultimately capped off their set with one of the most appropriate songs of the day. Taken out of context, “Family” felt like it perfectly summed up everyone there and the bond of the punk community. “This is my family. My one crazy family; the ones who understand me…” That was more than just a refrain, especially at the Punk in Drublic Festival.

Dispersing each time a band finished, patrons had plenty of time to get more drinks, grab a bite to eat, socialize or whatever else they wanted to do. Everything was timed well. The downtime never dragged on; and the stage hands quickly got the stage set for the following act. By that point in the evening a staggering amount of people had congregated at Panther Island Pavilion, there not only to enjoy the day but also the band that was essentially the co-headliner of the event: Bad Religion. No one was going to miss either of the legendary punk outfits that topped the bill; and Bad Religion had a special surprise for their fans.

The way that they took the stage was so compelling due to it being exceptionally casual. There was no intro music, or really anything to announce their arrival. Instead, Brian Baker and Mike Dimkich just strolled right out onto the stage and picked up their guitars, Jay Bentley doing the same with the bass, while Jamie Miller took a seat behind his drum kit. Even some of the crowd seemed unaware of it at first, fanfare erupting once they saw Greg Graffin rush out on stage. It was a refreshing entrance and it allowed Bad Religion to wield that much more authority over the spectators right out of the gate. Coming out swinging with "21st Century (Digital Boy)" (a song that, unfortunately, seems truer now than when it was written), they quickly earned the absolute attention of everyone there; the blistering riffs and commanding movements that Graffin made as he waved his arm about helping to create that moment that everyone was able to get lost in.

They had bold plans for their 64-minute long set, knocking out several more songs before getting to the special part of the evening. “…We’re not used to playing in these conditions,” Graffin remarked at their first proper break, having used the word “night” out of habit. Several patrons shouted with delight upon hearing him briefly mention the Warped Tour “a long time ago” as the last time they had regularly performed in the daylight hours, his comment seeming to bring those memories flooding back to them. That was when he announced what they had prepared for everyone on this day, planning to perform one of their records in its entirety. “…We’ll do it with no interruptions. No clapping…” the frontman continued, saying that was for the “musicians”. “Not me, but these guys that need to focus and play it,” he commented, making it hard to discern if that was their wish or a joke in line with a dry sense of humor. “It’s called ‘Suffer’, and the first song on it is ‘You Are (The Government)’,” he finished.

That set it all in motion, the other fourteen songs from that 1988 release coming in rapid succession. The audience couldn’t restrain themselves and applauded during the momentary silence that separated some of the tracks, leading to some friendly jokes from the band of, “I don’t remember any clapping on this album”. No spectator cared if that messed with the authenticity of the performance, they were just ecstatic to be experiencing that classic record live. It was something Graffin later admitted he never thought would happen back when they wrote and released those songs, thanking everyone for “indulging” them. Longtime fans may have been able to appreciate it more than any potential newcomers that were there, though that Suffer experience awed everyone, regardless of if they knew the songs by heart or were only somewhat familiar with them. The quick, unrelenting pace at which they tore through it made the five of them all the more riveting. They finessed the crowd incredibly well; and the rhythm section sounded superb, heavy and somewhat thrash-y. Miller was merciless with his drumming; while Baker, Dimkich, Bentley and Graffin packed as much energy as possible into the show, never slowing down even as the sun beat down on them.

What could have been considered the encore tacked right onto the main set, they treated everyone to a few more favorites before concluding things. Bad Religion’s performance alone was more than worth the price of admission. Hearing Suffer from front to back was pretty much a once in a lifetime experience, the topics and messages that accompany the music still being relevant and worth heeding. Fans savored every second of it, Bad Religion effortlessly reaffirming that they are, indeed, punk legends. And there was still one iconic group left to go. At 7:42 NOFX made their own unforgettable entrance, "Fat" Mike Burkett, Eric Melvin, Aaron Abeyta and Erik Sandin taking the stage to "The Time Warp". They danced appropriately, Burkett especially shaking and grooving to the song.

Their banter was just as entertaining as the music they would be cranking out, the four of them marveling at the 25-song set that their friends in Bad Religion had unleashed before ever beginning their own show. “This is why we can’t play as many songs as Bad Religion,” or something to that effect, was Burkett’s comment early on when he called attention to one fan, pondering aloud, “Who wears a blue shirt to a punk show?” It was followed by asking the guy if it was his boyfriend standing behind him, Burkett just speculating since the other individual had blue hair. Laughter ensued. As one would expect, from songs to statements, NOFX’s set was teeming with political and social commentary, often from songs that have held up far too well over the years. Though that wasn’t their exclusive focus.

Melvin took the reins for the blistering “Six Years on Dope”; while “Murder the Government” and the issues that it addresses made the track feel as if it could have been written within the previous week instead of twenty-one years ago. “We’re a political band!” Burkett exclaimed a few songs later after they had finished the aggressive and insightful “The Idiots Are Taking Over”. In that same vein, they even did “Idiot Son Of An Asshole”, albeit a redux. It boasted new verses, ones written specifically about the current man in the Oval Office, and oh, how the listeners enjoyed it. The night wasn’t all laughs and political jabs, though. There were some real sincere and somber moments, provided first by the candid “Whoops, I OD'd”. And since the mood had been brought down some, it felt like an appropriate time to do a song about what Burkett described as the “worst day” of his life. Their emotional tribute to the late, great Tony Sly, “I’m So Sorry Tony” struck a chord with every soul there, that song standing as a striking homage to Sly’s life and legacy.

NOFX’s set was flying by as they made quick work of the 75-minutes they had. By the time they got to some of their final numbers, their hits like “Linoleum” and “Stickin In My Eye”, it seemed as though they had only just started, Melvin, Sandin, Abeyta and Burkett still going strong, emitting the same amount of vigor and subtle hints of reckless abandon that they had when they first stepped out on stage. They soon capped off the Punk in Drublic Festival in a phenomenal fashion, having exemplified why they, too, are one of the greatest purveyors of punk music that the genre has ever known. While discussing how the Punk in Drublic Festival came about (quipping that his first choice was a “vodka and cocaine festival” but was told it would be tough to get a permit for that), Burkett gleefully exclaimed that they decided to opt for “beer and no kids”. Perhaps inadvertently, he touched on the shift that has occurred over the past dozen years or so, the younger generations no longer flocking to punk music the way that previous generations did; the Punk in Drublic Fest instead being a great way for the band to cater to their loyal supporters and punk enthusiasts who have grown up with them.

It could be argued that that shift has been because punk music and the community has always been about nonconformity. It represented a way for people to rebel against the ideals that society tried to impose upon people. And in recent years, nonconformity has become somewhat of a mainstream thing when you think about it, particularly among said younger generations who have had more freedom to pursue life on their terms instead of firmly adhering to traditional ways. Hence the slight decline that punk has had, at least from the mainstream world. It’s still out there. As was evident this day the icons of the genre still command as loyal of a following as ever. Plenty of other punk outfits are busy cutting their teeth and honing their skills in clubs all around the U.S. as well. You just have to know where to look for it.

And equally as important to the punk landscape as the expression of nonconformity is the feeling of community, and that was what made Punk in Drublic Festival such an outstanding event. Sure, the music was a cornerstone of it, with every act being outstanding in their own right, as was the craft brews and the breweries that were on tap for the day. However, that feeling of community eclipsed it all. A wide array of people had ventured out to it on this Sunday. Many fit into what some would consider to be the traditional punk mold, from sporting mohawks or shaved heads, to wearing attire with patches of their favorite punk bands and being moderately if not heavily tattooed. On the other hand, plenty of people showed up looking like casually dressed hipsters in shorts and bland looking shirts, no ink visible, if they had any at all.

The looks covered much of the imaginable spectrum, and no one was ever made to feel like they didn’t belong at Punk in Drublic. Who cared how anyone looked or chose to express themselves? Hell, that was part of the appeal. You could go to the event, let go of any inhibitions and just be you. Besides, everyone who was there was clearly bound by the same love and appreciation of punk music and brews and that was enough to cultivate a strong sense of unity. A must-see festival, Punk in Drublic Fest is poised to become a mainstay of the touring festival circuit. And if it’s done in moderation like it has been thus far, hitting a handful of different markets every six months or so, there’s no reason to doubt that there won’t be longevity for it.

Hopefully it will stretch on for years to come, but in the meantime, the Punk in Drublic Festival has dates in Richmond, VA and Philadelphia, PA on May 12th and 13th as well as Brockton, MA and Pittsburgh, PA on May 19th and 20th. The rescheduled Austin, TX date is September 22nd at Circuit of The Americas. And before taking it over to Europe for the latter half of June, Thornville, OH will be the city hosting Camp Punk In Drublic, a 3-day festival that is bound to be epic. Full details on all upcoming events can be found HERE.