SWINGIN’ ON THE FLIPPITY-FLOP Sub Pop 20
Jul 22, 2008
Blurt gives you the blow-by-blow of Sub Pop’s 20th anniversary celebration.
BY GILLIAN G. GAAR
Editor’s Note: When we got word that Sub Pop was throwing a party for itself, we just had to invite ourselves. Or, more accurately, our Seattle-based correspondent Gillian G. Gaar, who definitely knows a thing or two about Sub Pop. She filed three reports on the bash, which took place July 10-13, which we posted in our News section, along with a slew of killer photos. We’ve compiled all her text into a single easy-to-read digest here. Meanwhile, though, if you want to check out those photos, go to the Thursday-Friday coverage, then the Saturday coverage, and finally the Sunday coverage.
Thursday, July 10 & Friday, July 11
Bruce Pavitt/Jonathan Poneman Oral History - Experience Music Project (Thursday)
Opening Night Party – The Space Needle (Thursday)
Green River, The Press Corps., The Fluid - Sunset Tavern (Thursday)
Comedy Show w/Flight of the Conchords, Patton Oswalt, David Cross, Eugene Mirman, Todd Barry - Moore Theatre (Friday)
As the architectural icon most associated with Seattle, it’s not surprising that the Space Needle is the focal point for celebrations; flying the Seattle Seahawks’ “12th Man” flag when the football team made it to the Super Bowl, or setting off fireworks from the structure’s top on New Year’s Eve. Still, it was a bit of a jolt to see a giant flag with the Sub Pop logo flying from the top of needle, unfurled on Thursday, July 10th, as the inaugural event of the record label’s 20th anniversary celebrations.
The rest of the day brought a history lesson, a party, and a “secret” show that left a packed house of attendees all hot and bothered. The evening began at the Experience Music Project museum, where Sub Pop co-founders Bruce Pavitt and Jonathan Poneman were interviewed for one of EMP’s Oral Histories by senior curator Jacob McMurray. And there was a surprise guest in the house; Seattle Mayor Greg Nickels, who read aloud the official proclamation naming July 11-14 as “Sub Pop’s Utterly Lost Weekend,” further urging the city’s residents “to join me in celebrating Sub Pop’s questionable taste in music, generous nature and improbable solvency.” As for the talk, Pavitt and Poneman shared various nuggets of trivia (had it not been for Poneman’s skill in urging the phone company to not shut off Sub Pop’s phone during the first year, the label may have made good on its “going out of business” slogan rather too soon), and assured those endeavoring to start up labels that though there is now much more competition in the marketplace, the rise of the internet has also led to greater media opportunities.
Then, following Poneman’s final words, “Let’s party!” invited guests decamped to the Space Needle, where a party was held on the “Observation Deck” (a mere 100 feet up, as opposed to the restaurant, where Elvis dined in It Happened At The World’s Fair, which is 500 feet up). In the elevator on the way up, Pavitt joked to BLURT he heard a rumor there was no free food or drink available (knowing our penchant for such things), but not only was plenty of each on hand, there was even a special brew for the occasion: “Loser” pale ale, crafted by the Elysian Brewing Company, a sweet, hoppy brew that at 6.5% alcohol provides a nice kick. The event had a feel of a high school reunion — a very cool high school reunion — as past and present Sub Pop employees and bands reconnected; BLURT spotted Kim Warnick (Fastbacks), Steve Fisk, Mark Pickerel, Carla Torgerson (Walkabouts), author Michael Azerrad, and Carla DeSantis (of the late ROCKRGL magazine). Kelley Stoltz, Death Vessel, and Sera Cahoone provided musical entertainment, though attendees seemed to spend most of their time waiting in the long drinks lines.
But the label had created a dilemma for attendees; those at the Space Needle party missed a “secret” show at the Sunset Tavern that occurred at the same time, featuring spots by Green River and The Fluid (warm-up sets for their SP 20 appearances this weekend), and an ad hoc group with members of both bands, billing themselves the Press Corps. Mark Arm didn’t pull quite the stunts he used to during Green River’s heyday (at one memorable show he leapt from the stage to swing on a light fixture, which began breaking apart; “Not one of my brightest moments,” he says today, adding, “I was pretty high on MDA”), but he did manage to dive into the audience, later surfacing on the bar. Fluid singer John Robinson also made forays into the crowd, which moshed like it was 1989, even attempting a little stage diving, though most present seemed to have outgrown such tomfoolery.
Friday night’s entertainment included a comedy show — yes, Sub Pop has released comedy records — with a lineup boasting a few Flight of the Conchords alums (yet another act playing SP 20), beginning with host Kristen Schaal, who kept the program moving with such chipper commentary as “Happy birthday, Mr. Sub Pop! And the weather is perfect today…even if this is the suicide capital of the world.” Todd Barry also wryly lauded Sub Pop with the observation “Years ago when other labels wouldn’t sign me — [Sub Pop] also wouldn’t sign me,” dropping hints that the evening’s set would make a great live release on the label. Eugene Mirman even devised a special “Memories of Grunge” video in honor of the occasion, donning a blonde wig and flannel shirt while claiming credit for suggesting Sub Pop bands try using two names (“Green River…Pearl Jam…Soundgarden”) and that before the term “grunge” was conceived he’d wanted to call the new Seattle music “jazz not.”
Political commentary was a prevailing theme, with Barry hitting on the hypocrisy of “narrow minded fake liberal fuckers,” and Mirman disparaging an anti-abortion slogan he’d seen at a rally (“America is better than abortion”) as a “grammatically incorrect protest sign.” Patton Oswalt conceded that George Bush material was no longer edgy, given the president’s general lack of popularity, comparing people who’d liked the prez back in 2000 to Creed fans (“Okay! I was wrong!”), before going on to somehow compare Republican candidate John McCain to both Syd Barrett and G.G. Allin in less than five minutes.
Both Oswalt and David Cross, each a proud atheist, took shots at religion, Oswalt providing a particularly good destruction of how religion was invented and manages to continue provoking havoc in the world. Cross also went off on an amazing absurdist rant about the latest useless product he’d seen advertised in the Sky Mall catalogue — the Time Mug, with a clock built right into the mug, thus eliminating the need to look at your watch. But when a baby in the audience began squawking, he missed the opportunity to plug the title of his first Sub Pop release — Shut Up, You Fucking Baby!
In a nice coincidence, the venue, the Moore Theatre, was where the first Sub Pop “Lame Fest” had been held June 9, 1989 — a show that had Mudhoney, Tad, and Nirvana sharing the bill.
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Saturday, July 12
SP 20 — Marymoor Park, Redmond WA
Time was, you’d never have expected the phrases “Sub Pop” and “family friendly” to go together. Yet there they were: a punk rocker wearing bondage pants and a hat sporting a pentangle, next to a little girl romping around in a red dress with white polka dots. The first day of the SP 20 festival drew a sell-out, inter-generational crowd; evidently, the kids who grew up listening to Sub Pop bands have now seen fit to bring their own progeny to experience the finest in “grunge,” past and present.
A section of the park (which is quite large) was cordoned off for the event, with two stages side-by-side, which allowed for rapid-fire changeovers; no downtime between sets. There were the usual overpriced food and beverage offerings (one unfortunate attendee found a staple in his collard greens), and if the beer price of $6 a cup made one grumble, there were at least an impressive nine selections of brew available (causing one woman to learn Black “Butte” Porter isn’t pronounced “Butt”). Among the booths promoting all-ages Seattle venue The Vera Project, skateboarding for girls (and women), and Obama ’08 (“We’ve given out a few thousand stickers,” a staffer proudly informed BLURT), there was actual swag to be had: the “Official Free Thing” compilation CD.
Music got underway shortly after noon, with a fine garage rock-tinged set from New York’s own Obits. At the same time, outside the SP 20 gates, another garage rock flavored Sub Pop act, Girl Trouble (whose lead singer, Kurt Kendall, sounds like the brother of the Cramps’ Lux Interior), miffed at not being able to play the event proper, pounded out an acoustic set while tossing bags of chips to onlookers, an act later deemed “punk fucking resistance!” by John Robinson, the Fluid’s lead singer. Back at SP 20, a pair of Canadian bands followed; the Constantines, who turned in a sizzling set, and Eric’s Trip, the first Canadian band to be signed by Sub Pop.
Loud continued to be the order of the day for a while; how do The Helio Sequence manage to kick up such a (pleasing) racket with only two people? Then it was time for a little old school rocking on the second stage, starting with Seaweed, still as tight as they were back in the day, even drawing Sub Pop co-founder Bruce Pavitt down to the front. Not to be outdone, the younger Pissed Jeans, whose first Sub Pop album came out last year, were just louder than loud.
The press area, off to the left, was actually a decent enough viewing place, with picnic benches, shade, and, most importantly, free beer (the Elysian-brewed Sub Pop “Loser” pale ale). But the real action, as always, was in the VIP area, where folks chowed down on ribs and soft tacos, made frequent visits to the ice cream truck, and drank more beer. David Cross was seen being interviewed by Billboard (he was most looking forward to the Vaselines); Linda Derschang, of trendy Seattle nightspot Linda’s Tavern was on hand; Eugene Mirman, dismayed at the length of the food lines, instead exchanged pleasantries with BLURT; former K Records co-owner Candice Pedersen was spotted; author Michael Azerrad was still hanging out; and BLURT found the time to talk shop with LA Times scribe Ann Powers, who was once a Seattle resident herself, before she moved on to the bright lights big city. Indeed, as much as the bands represented the musical side of the Seattle scene of the last 20 years, the backstage attendees featured many of the movers and shakers that helped get the scene up on its feet.
It was somewhat ironic to see a man wearing a t-shirt reading “I don’t give a fuck how they do it in California” as the Fleet Foxes began their set, for the Foxes’ croonings on “Sun Giant” were straight out of the Beach Boys’ playbook. There was actually a hush over the crowd during their set, though that mood was broken soon enough when the Fluid took over the second stage. John Robinson wore a nifty purple shirt and black vest, and was soon leaping about, holding the mic stand above his head, and finally jumping into the crowd for a spate of body surfing. And then came Mudhoney. Who doesn’t love Mudhoney? Only fools, my friends. And they didn’t disappoint, not only bringing back classics like “Touch Me I’m Sick” and “Sweet Young Thing (Ain’t Sweet No More),” but also more current, timely tunes like “Hard-On For War.”
The (bitter) sweeter-than-thou Vaselines couldn’t have provided more of a contrast. The reunited group’s first ever Seattle show (indeed, their first ever US show was July 9 at Maxwell’s in Hoboken) had all the songs most people know because Nirvana covered them (“Son of a Gun,” “Molly’s Lips,” “Jesus Wants Me For A Sunbeam”), interspersed with plenty of ribald commentary. Despite Frances McKee’s pleas to make it a “smut-free zone,” she then cheerfully informed the crowd the band’s extended absence was due to her being kidnapped and sold into white slavery, with Eugene Kelly unable to pay the bill. “Just give Frances $20,” Kelly deadpanned back, “and you can dry hump her.” McKee later queried whether the crowd’s low energy level was due to all their “dry humping in that field over there.” Alas, no such activity was observed by BLURT.
Iron and Wine then provided the calm before the storm, with Sam Beam simply standing center stage, quietly playing acoustic guitar, not something many people can do while still holding one’s attention; his cover of the Postal Service’s “Such Great Heights” was a highlight. Then the energy ratcheted back up again for Flight of the Conchords, who unfurled a jolly cache of tunes to end the evening on a high note, “Robots (The Humans Are Dead),” “Boom (She’s So Hot),” “Jenny,” and “Ex-Girlfriend” among them. Comedian Todd Barry was brought onstage for “Business Time,” and all and sundry were then sent home at a reasonable hour.
And, oddly, BLURT saw no one wearing a backwards baseball cap — once the trademark of “grunge” fashion — the entire day.
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Sunday, July 13
SP 20 — Marymoor Park, Redmond WA
The second day of SP 20 was a more laid-back affair for much of the day than Saturday had been. Attendance was a bit lighter, though the sun just as hot, and security just as vigilant at chasing away folks hanging around outside the gates, lest they experience too much of the show for free (I saw cops telling some folks sitting at a picnic table waiting for the friends who had their tickets, “It’s time for you to do your waiting in the parking lot now”).
But in general, the day started off in a mellow fashion. First up were the Ruby Suns, down to a duo for this performance, with Ryan McPhun holding down most of the fort on vocals, drums, and turntables, the band veering between bright pop and soothing trance sounds that were rather at odds with the bright sunlight. Grand Archives produced swaths of swirling sound in their set, a motif continued by Blitzen Trapper, with a folky undercurrent bursting through their layered harmonies.
Things began taking a harder edge with Kinski, whose hard-driving instrumentals created a powerful droning that was stealthily hypnotic, especially after you’d been sitting in the sun drinking beers for a few hours. Foals, who suffered a few equipment problems at the start of their set (“Every time we come to Seattle shit breaks”), played a sharp, brittle dance rock that harkened back to the cool, clinical beats of ‘80s new wave. France’s Les Thugs turned in the first truly blistering set of the day, pounding out a ferocious punk assault, once some minor sound problems had been worked out; this was the kind of sound that fought its way out of Seattle’s clubs on the route to “World Domination,” as Sub Pop co-founders Bruce Pavitt and Jonathan Poneman would say.
One fun thing about SP 20 were all the vintage t-shirts people unearthed for the event; Green River’s “Ride The Fucking Six Pack,” Soundgarden’s “Total Fucking Godhead,” and the classic “Loser” tee (with a Sub Pop logo on the back). Ben Scheelhaase, of Medford, Oregon’s Vile Donations (myspace.com/vdoregon), who’d picked up just such a shirt at the event, was lucky enough to acquire the signatures of Mark Arm (Mudhoney), Chad Channing (Nirvana), Jack Endino (ace producer), and Charles Peterson (photog supreme) on the shirt during the day. Asked what he liked about Sub Pop bands, Scheelhaase replied “Everything!”
I myself wore a “Lamestain” shirt, drawing on the fake “grunge slang” Sub Pop employee (and now vice president) Megan Jasper had infamously made up for a New York Times reporter back in 1992. “I never thought it would make it into print,” she told me, and indeed, who could ever have believed that we “grungesters” actually used expressions like “Swingin’ on the flippity-flop” (for “hanging out”)? But a “Lexicon of Grunge” duly appeared in the Times’ November 16, 1992 issue, with rival label C/Z Records quickly printing up some t-shirts with various slang terms.
Just as much revelry was going on backstage, with Kobe beef burgers available, kegs soon drained dry of “Loser” pale ale, and such folks as Jack Endino, Kevin Whitworth (Love Battery), Kim Thayil and Matt Cameron (Soundgarden, who couldn’t be persuaded to reunite for SP 20), Chad Channing and Channing’s neighbors, Carrie and Vince Stamper, hosts of Tractorfest, the biggest unknown music fest in Washington state (which this year will feature burlesque acts; no, the fest has no tractor pulls). All of which thrilled Chris Pugh, guitarist with the reformed Swallow (who didn’t perform at SP 20, but are recording for Seattle-based Flotation Records). Pugh was busy interviewing attendees for a documentary on Seattle’s pre-grunge scene which he hopes to have done in two years. “It’ll have many many hours of footage,” he promises, and so it should after that length of time.
I also briefly caught up with Frances McKee (Vaselines), when Brandon Summers of Helio Sequence graciously let her cut ahead of him in the beer line, taking time to praise the Vaselines’ set as he did so. I did the same, then expressed my doubt that she wasn’t getting any “action” on tour, as she’d bemoaned the previous day onstage. She laughed and said if she had, “My husband would probably have something to say about that,” wise words in this era of YouTube (and internet blog postings). On learning I was an Actual Media Person, she insisted on giving me a copy of her wonderful 2006 release Sunny Moon, which I agreed to take on condition that she sign it for me, which she did: “Lots of love Gillian, From Frances.” Ah, how sweet. These are the perks, folks.
As the evening began, the crowds in front of both stages began to thicken in anticipation. A reunited Beachwood Sparks kicked off at 6:40, and though singer/guitarist Chris Gunst admitted they hadn’t played in some time, their set betrayed no sign of nerves. Their alt-country stylings (including “Confusion Is Nothing New” and “Silver Morning After”) offered a clear demonstration to anyone paying attention that Sub Pop may have been rooted in “grunge,” but they’ve had little problem in embracing other genres as well.
But of course, if it hadn’t been for the g-word, there might not have been an SP 20 at all, which is why the Green River reunion was the day’s — heck, the entire festival’s — main event. Mark Arm, wearing the same “Green River Summer Camps” t-shirt he wore at the band’s warm up show July 10 at Seattle’s Sunset Tavern, proved once again he’s Seattle’s answer to Iggy Pop (and aren’t we glad to have him!), as he writhed around the stage, contorting his body like a pretzel, surpassing even Mudhoney’s performance the previous day. Classics like “Swallow My Pride” and “Come On Down” were present and accounted for; Arm playfully accused the Melvins of stealing “Leeech” from a Green River demo and taking it for their own, Led Zeppelin style (“Making us the Willie Dixon of grunge…but we’ve melded the legal power of Pearl Jam and Sub Pop and we’re going to crush those bastards!”); and the audience got a mini-grunge history lesson with Arm introducing the band members by referring to their previous bands undoubtedly unknown to most of those in attendance (Jeff Ament and Bruce Fairweather, Deranged Diction; Steve Turner and Stone Gossard, The Ducky Boys; Alex Shumway, Spluii Numa).
“And I’m the evil genius behind Mr. Epp,” Arm cracked with a grin. At the end of the band’s set, Shumway dove into the crowd, and the rest of the band tossed out brand spanking new “Ride the Fucking Six Pack” t-shirts (Shumway later hurling a handful of drumsticks in the same direction), causing an even greater frenzy than the mini moshpits that had broken out.
Wolf Parade didn’t throw out any t-shirts or drumsticks, but managed to work the crowd up in their own way, such as choosing “Kissing the Beehive” (from their latest album, At Mount Zoomer) to perform, which burns along for a heady 10 minutes. Was it odd to end the festival celebrating a Seattle label with a band from Montreal? The crowd didn’t seem to mind, swept up in the delirium of such numbers as “An Animal In Your Care,” “I Am A Runner,” and “Soldier’s Grin.” As the last band on stage, they were actually allowed to do an encore, choosing “I’ll Believe in Anything,” from their debut album, Apologies to the Queen Mary. Those quick on the uptake can catch both Wolf Parade and Foals at Neumo’s in Seattle this evening (June 14).
For a label known for its penchant of hyperbole, it was somewhat odd to not have Pavitt and Poneman take the stage at some point to engage in some self-congratulatory badinage. Instead, the two could be seen in the crowd throughout the day, checking out the bands, clearly still as interested in experiencing music the old-fashioned way as they were when they started their label.
And so it was perhaps fitting that at SP 20, they chose to let the music speak for itself.
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