Phoenix Music Blog

Victor Palagano

The Swell Season

​By Lindsey Holder

I'm not sure how many bands I saw last night. ...maybe three-ish? The ticket said The Swell Season, but the show was more like The Swell Season, Glen Hansard, The Frames, and a combination of the three. I figured it would be fairly straightforward, with songs from The Swell Season's newest album, Strict Joy, mixed with songs from the Grammy-nominated, Oscar-winning soundtrack to the movie Once, but at any given time, it was difficult to tell who was being featured.

It's a little long-winded to explain the relationship between all these bands, but here goes: Hansard is the frontman for Irish band The Frames. He was cast as the male lead in the 2007 film Once with Markéta Irglová, a story about love and the creation and production of music. Since the film, Hansard and Irglová have been performing as The Swell Season (in the movie, neither the band nor the characters had names). As The Swell Season has been touring, they brought along the rest of the members of The Frames as their backup band. So performing last night at Mesa Arts Center was a mish-mash of different bands and voices, along with plugs for solo albums by two of the members of The Frames. See? Tricky.

​Apart from a markedly talented five band bill, the first night of the last Modifest brought Modified Arts owner Kimber Lanning to the event's forefront. After Treasure Mammal completed an invigorating set, Lanning stepped toward the stage and addressed the crowd. "Music is my number one passion," Lanning said, while refuting rumors, and explaining that Modified will host occasional shows, but the focus will rest on art exhibitions. "If it weren't for the painting sales, the doors wouldn't have stayed open as long as they did," Lanning said. Metaphorically, Modified is a deli where people constantly request a wine list that simply isn't there, Lanning said regarding the space's time as a top indie music venue. Acknowledging that there are likely a multitude of questions that need answering, Lanning encouraged anyone in need of clarification to contact her personally. "Just ask me."

Jonathan McNamara

Everclear at The Big Pour.

​It's a well-established fact that the mark of a truly brilliant pop song is its ability to stand the test of time, captivating new generations or, at the very least, remaining meaningful to it's intended audience over a lifetime. As an admitted Gen X/Y cusper with a 90s obsession, I can't claim I'm an unbiased and wholly legitimate source when it comes to declaring the work of Portland-bred alt-rock icons Everclear to be on that level -- but it sure seemed like it was to me last night.

True, the occasion, The Big Pour, a Scottsdale beer festival on the banks of the canal, was incredibly fun, but vaguely pathetic for a band whose best work is about the horrors of addiction. It's also true that I'd had a lot to drink. But when the band -- now just lead singer Art Alexakis and four hired guns -- chugged out the opening riff to "Santa Monica," I was struck with the sense that this song, from Sparkle and Fade, an album I'd obsessed about as a high school sophomore, had made the leap to my adulthood.

The song, which, like the rest of that very, very dark album is about a deeply depressing episode (in this case the singer's girlfriend's suicide) struck teenage me for lyrics like:

I just wanna feel some sunshine
I just wanna find some place to be alone

Now, I'm more drawn to the blissfully nihilistic refrain:

We can live beside the ocean

Leave the fire behind

Swim out past the breakers

Watch the world die

Photos by E. Groves

GWAR singer Oderus Urungus

​Nothing was sacred in splatter metal band GWAR's theater of costumed insanity at the Marquee Theatre in Tempe on Saturday. Michael Jackson's face got ripped off. Babies were disemboweled. President Obama's noggin got partially severed and was rolling around on his shoulders, but he kept smiling.

The audience for this madness consisted mostly of 30-something biker-looking dudes and 20-something metalheads of both genders, many of whom wore white T-shirts. There's a reason people wear white T-shirts to GWAR, and it ain't to symbolize purity. They all got what they were asking for, but not before sitting through two opening acts.

I missed the first band, The Red Chord, but I did get in just before local death metal heroes Job For A Cowboy took the stage.

Now, I liked JFAC's album Genesis from a couple years ago, but I have to say I was unimpressed with them live. They are definitely a tight band, and they're really good at the pummeling rhythms, the gritty, doom-drenched riffs, and the guttural vocals -- but every song sounded the same to me. The band had bright lights illuminating them from below, and so many smoke machines onstage that the entire set just resembled Cookie Monster trapped in a shed fire.

One of the best moments of JFAC's set was when singer Jonny Davy was introducing the song "Constitutional Masturbation." Davy said, "This song is for everyone in the room who's ugly" -- and 85 percent of the people in the venue cheered. 

GWAR's set began with a videotaped mockumentary titled GWAR: Behind the Murder. The 10-minute video clip showed highlights from the band's 25-year career, as well as a faux commercial for something called the "Sperm N Slide," that's supposed to be a very, uh, fertile version of a Slip 'N' Slide.

​It must be nice for a band like Switchfoot to play an intimate venue like Martini Ranch.

The pop rock band sold out tonight's show, and the audience, which was made up of mostly 20- and 30-something's, actually sung along, danced and clapped to the music.

Switchfoot released their seventh studio album, Hello Hurricane, this past Tuesday, and the crowd did their homework quickly, singing along to every song from the album.

"I don't know how you guys are already singing along," said guitarist/vocalist Jon Foreman. "It's amazing. You're officially our favorite crowd ever."

The band played the album in its entirety, something Foreman said was something the band's always wanted to do.

"What's happening for us is a dream come true right now," Foreman said.

Frances Michelle Lopez

​

Jonathan McNamara

Naoko Yamano of Shonen Knife

​Here at Up on the Sun, we're constantly shaking our fists in frustration watching band after band head to Tucson and pass us by. Last night, we rebelled. If Tucson's going to take our bands, we're going to take Tucson! At least that was the sentiment running through my head as I barreled down I-10 toward the Shonen Knife show at Plush.

Shonen Knife freaks will tell you that the band formed in 1981 in Osaka, Japan. They'll add that much of the band's notoriety outside of the Land of the Rising Sun is based on their ability to charm their way into the hearts of their listeners regardless of language barriers (though most of their songs are performed in English albeit with heavy Japanese accents) by singing about delicious food items, troublesome house pests, and heartfelt observations about everyday life. Of course one of those hearts so charmed by the musical talents of Shonen Knife belongs to Kurt Cobain who asked the band to tour with Nirvana across the UK and U.S.A. in 1991 and propelled the band further in the global music scene.

Luke Holwerda

The Dirty Heads. See more shots in our Red Bull Soundclash slide show.

​I've said it before: With very few exceptions (well,  really one exception, The Aggrolites) white reggae is a pox upon America. So, believe me, it's not that I wanted to go see The Dirty Heads play last night's Red Bull Soundclash at Marquee Theatre. But, since the other half of the show -- stages are set up on opposite sides of the theater, the bands play a song or so, sometimes covering each other, then the audience votes for a favorite by applause-o-meter -- was Dear and the Headlights, aka The Most Important Band in Arizona, I kinda-sorta had to go.

By the end of the night, when I was watching a band with not one but two guys from Huntington Beach who could stunt-double for Jason Mewes in the next Jay and Silent Bob movie sing Bob Marley's "Stir It Up," I had regrets about the whole thing.

BY SARAH VENTRE

Sarah Ventre

​

I have to admit, in a quiet, whispered voice, that I actually don't like Halloween. Trust me, I've tried. I've had no traumatic experiences around the event, or anything that should conceivably prevent me from enjoying the holiday that everyone else so loves. Sure, there are qualities about the eve that I respect, or perhaps even admire. It's a day when it is socially acceptable for adults to act like children. We're allowed to dress up, paint our faces, and gorge ourselves with chocolate. We are expected to drink in excess, while on other days, this is often frowned upon by the masses. Yet for myself, and perhaps only three others in the U.S., it is a day that leaves us feeling empty. We are left to contemplate the mass consumer nature of the day once intended to celebrate the harvest and remember the dead, and the need for excuses to feel youthful.

​Phish + Halloween + Indio, California = Pumpkin carving contest. ​Phish takes the stage playing "Party Time" in Indio, California for their Festival 8. The reunited Vermont jam band is combining two of their biggest traditions, a massive festival and a Halloween concert that features the band playing another artist's album in its entirety. What does all this mean? Lots and lots of hippies sleeping in tents on the lush grass of Empire Polo Club.

Victor J. Palagano III

​ Notes on the show by photographer Victor J. Palagano III.

I haven't seen Rob Zombie live since I witnessed White Zombie back in the day (circa 1990) but that doesn't mean I'm not familiar or that I'm not a fan. I have several Rob Zombie albums and "The Great America Nightmare" is my cell phone ringtone.

Being exposed to the opening act, psychobilly trio Nekromantix for the first time was enjoyable. I only was able to hear a few songs but I liked what I heard and vocalist/bass player Kim Nekroman sports one cool bass.

Frances Michelle Lopez

​

In my nearly five years here in Arizona, I have probably seen Tucson's Golden Boots about 10-15 times. I've had the pleasure and fortune of playing with and booking shows for them; getting to know them a little bit in the process. However, at the Rhythm Room last night, Golden Boots took it up a notch giving what I think is the best performance I have seen them give Phoenix in a long time. This is by no means implying that their previous performances have been sub par, either. The thing that you need to know about the Boots is that they are somewhat of a rock chameleon; constantly shifting from one shade of the spectrum to the next while still retaining the same body. Despite the frequent change in personnel, Golden Boots have gone from just another Tucson local band to a national touring artist who has infected various musical scenes with their honest, light-hearted, and just good old fashioned rock and roll.

BY LINDSEY HOLDER

Shawn Anderson courtesy of ElectricMustache.com

​

Last night at the Rhythm Room, Dirty Projectors held our hands and led us on an auditory cross-country journey. Each song performed was like a different piece of scenery along the trip, with sometimes unpredictable tempo changes and vocals that varied from airy to jarring. The experimental indie band from Brooklyn has been releasing albums since 2003's The Glad Fact, but it was this year that proved to be their breakout. June saw the release of Bitte Orca, which received critical praise and subsequent airplay on indie radio stations.

The show's voyage began quietly, like the morning of a long-day's drive, with frontman Dave Longstreth singing and playing alone onstage. After the first song, the other members of the band joined him onstage, picking up the pace and diversifying the vocals, and the peaks and valleys of the musical scenery became more pronounced. With every song that passed, it felt like traveling through a new, quirky locale. "Temecula Sunrise" had the feel of visiting an aunt and uncle in suburbia with lyrics that mention new-construction homes and proximity to a car dealership, while the quiet and sparse "Two Doves" evoked the image of stopping the car spontaneously to walk through a corn field in the moonlight. Still other songs were more frantic in nature with hectic guitar and unexpected vocal bleats, like driving a precarious mountain pass fraught with hairpin turns and steep cliffs.

Victor Palagano

Steely Dan

​BY CRAIG OUTHIER

The definitive Phoenix-area Steely Dan show is, and always will be, the duo's windswept performance at Cricket Pavilion in 2006. Not only did that show reunite the Dan with Michael McDonald, the blow-dried soul daddy whose paean to coke and Cuervo on "Hey Nineteen" remains the pimpest bit of backup vocalizing ever recorded, but what could have been a hot-as-balls outdoor concert in July was magically leavened by a gutsy little sirocco that blew in the from the north and cooled the night down by at least 10 degrees.

Truly, the good Lord smiled on the Dan that day.

I'm convinced that Donald Fagen and Walter Becker (and their usual deluxe suite of jazz musicians) will never stage a more God-kissed concert in their lifetimes. Still, Dan junkie that am, I keep going; most recently, to their lackluster 2008 concert at the Dodge Theatre, and to Tuesday night's "Rent Party" show, also at the staid Dodge.

BY MIKE ESCOTO

Shawn Anderson courtesy of ElectricMustache.com

​In preparation for Tuesday night's concert at Modified Arts I spent a good chunk of my day listening to the latest album from Philadelphia singer/songwriter Kurt Vile. Although Vile (yes that is his real name) has released three solo albums in the past two years it wasn't until I heard the song "Overnight Religion" off of his latest album Childish Prodigy that I began to take notice. Blog buzz was strong for the Philly native and reviews of the album earned him comparisons to everyone from Neil Young to Tom Petty.

The majority of the songs on Childish Prodigy are guitar heavy and even heavier on effects. After watching Kurt Vile and his touring band The Violators go through their sound check it became pretty clear that a live performance would be just the same. Unfortunately, this type of performance is not well suited for the soundboard at Modified Arts. Vile's lyrics were almost completely drowned out by the deafening guitars and too many effects. The only time that you were able to understand any of the words Vile was singing was when he performed his acoustic solos.

Jonathan McNamara

​Stop me when this sounds like a Seinfeld episode: Our leading character, a music critic, decides to indulge an old vice on a Tuesday night, going out to see a foul-mouthed female electronica artist/rapper who amused him back in his college years. Upon arriving, he's surprised by how many people came out to see this show -- he has to park waaay down the street from the venue. And by how fashionable this ultra-eclectic crowd is -- there's everything from beardos to mohawked punks to club kids, all wearing their chosen style impeccably. Between sets, he's blown away by how enthusiastically (and well) everyone is dancing to MGMT.

He's standing there waiting to see a Canadian teacher-turned-sexpot most famous for landing her song "Do Ya" in a GAP ad when he finally realizes what's going on: This show has the full support of The Friends of Dorothy. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

OK, so, no, I had no idea Peaches has successfully transformed herself from one of a dozen over-hyped electroclash artists to the hip, post-millennial Barbara Streisand. I went to see her show at The Clubhouse out of nostalgia for the Teaches of Peaches era, fully expecting to be one of 200 or so people in attendance. Sure, I'd seen the genderbending publicity photos she's since released, which look nothing like the trampy stuff I remember from the early 00s, but I assumed that was a last-ditch effort to shock a jaded America, not the brilliant culmination of her career.

Benjamin Leatherman

Jello Biafra postures and poses at the Clubhouse Music Venue in Tempe. See more shots in our slideshow of the concert.

What do punk icon Jello Biafra and B-52s singer Fred Schneider have in common? Prior to last night, I thought it was only a shared a penchant for nasally singing voices and theatrical stage performances. But after watching the former Dead Kennedys singer front his newest band (a.k.a. The Guantanamo School of Medicine) share another mutual distinction: Both of their acts kinda blew when I finally got to see them in person.  

I've been a fan of the DKs for going on two decades now, with my first taste of Jello coming back in 1992 when a good friend of mine (the cat who introduced me to punk rock and other cool music) loaned me a copy of Frankenchrist. After wearing out said cassette tape, I began a hardcore love affair with the band. I've got every Dead Kennedys album committed to memory. I've had arguments with others about how their music is still relevant today. And I even sided with Biafra when it came to his feud with his ex-bandmates (excluding the fact I attended their ill-advised "reunion tour" when it hit Tempe).

Other than catching his spoken word gigs the last two times he came through the Valley, I'd never seen Jello perform as a singer (other than through bootleg videos or on YouTube). In some ways, I'd been waiting more than 17 years for last night's show, which probably why it felt like such a letdown.

Frances Michelle Lopez

​
Although the Vivian Girls and Wavves don't come from the same coasts, their melodic surf pop music and close ties to Brooklyn-based label Woodsist/ Fuck-it Tapes can easily clump them together. For Those Darlins however, it's their nitty-gritty southern fried swing that makes them stand out in such a densely saturated Nashville scene that have them hanging out with southern neighbors the Black Lips. Both relationships somehow mirror each other, but thankfully there hasn't been a Vivian Girls vs. Those Darlins cat-fight just yet.

​

It's not often that a band garners encore-like chants from their fans before a show unless it's an arena band such as Bon Jovi or U2. However, this was the scene at Mesa Ampitheatre Thursday 10 minutes before Brand New greeted the fairly packed house.

The Long Island punk act took the stage at 8:30 p.m. and played for a little over an hour covering a total of 16 tracks from a span of four albums (2001's Your Favorite Weapon, 2003's Deja Entendu, 2006's The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me and Daisy, which was released late last month). They kicked off the night with "You Won't Know" from The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me and seemlessly broke into "Degausser," my personal favorite from their third disc. Their stage set-up was simple. There were no pyrotechnics or awesome light displays. Instead the stage was stripped, aside from a couple of screens behind the stage displaying black and white imagery. It was clear the band wanted to keep the focus on its music and that's just where it should be.

The original lineup of the Pogues, who impressed with aplomb last night at the Marquee Theatre.

​"Tell me why people are willing to pay $60 to see an old fucking Irish punk band."

This was the mandate that was handed down by music editor Martin Cizmar when I mentioned my desire to review last night's appearance by The Pogues at the Marquee Theatre in Tempe.

As a person of partial Celtic descent and a longtime fan of noted drunkard Shane MacGowan and his musical talents, this wasn't a challenge I was going to back down from easily. True, the $55 to $60 ticket price that Luckyman was charging (more than the cost of either the U2 or the Monsters of Folk shows) wasn't exactly the kinda chedda you could easily find rattling around in your sofa, but it was an amount worth spending, regardless of the current state of the economy.

Here's why:

Jonathan McNamara

Gogol Bordello. See more shots in our Gogol Bordello slide show.

​Here are just a few of the scenes I witnessed last night at the Gogol Bordello concert at the Maruquee: Complete strangers linked arms like brothers and can-caned in a circle pit while avoiding incoming moshers. Lead singer Eugene Hutz at one point used not one but two microphones to belt out lyrics. Dancing girls Pamela Jintana Racine and Elizabeth Sun wailed like banshees on Violinist Sergey Ryabtsev's mic while dancing with frenetic intensity.

But the most amazing scene of all may be that a band consisting of members from the Ukraine, Russia, Israel, Ethiopia, Scotland, Ecuador and the U.S. got a venue full of Tempe kids to dance and wail like a gang of intoxicated gypsies.

Gogol Bordello, who seek to infiltrate the English speaking world with East-European music and ideologies, wouldn't want it any other way.

Luke Holwerda

​There's something inherently incongruous about the serene, relentlessly thoughtful music U2 made at its creative peak and the stadium-sized spectacle that came to Glendale last night. Sure, the band has been one of the few extant rock acts capable of (nearly) selling-out football fields for two decades, but I still say something about seeing such personal songs sung to crowds that large just feels weird. And I know I'm not the only one who noticed.

"Believe it or not we built this spaceship to get closer to you," a black-leather clad Bono said, gesturing up at the towering four-footed contraption supporting the band's massive, circular stage. "We're looking for intimacy."

"Intimacy on a grand scale" he quickly added, self-aware enough to chuckle at the irony of his words, given the situation.

​
"Oh yeah," Nathan Williams of Wavves leered as I introduced myself last night at The Rhythm Room.  "You're the guy who wrote the article with the 'Wavves spits on a guy' headline."  That wasn't the headline, exactly, but the article he was referring to clearly set the stage for an interesting gig.  After all, the last time he was in Phoenix, he spit in a concert-goer's face, puked outside of Trunk Space and played "the worst set ever." "I really hope some body spits in my mouth tonight," he joked, reaching for a bottled water. 

But the show last night was short on obnoxious Wavves mischief and focused more on what initially grabbed the attention of Pitchfork and all those tastemaking blogs: Wavves' incessantly catchy, distortion saturated, bratty pop-punk. Following strong performances from Phoenix post-punkers Earthmen & Strangers and Sacramento psych-surfers Ganglians, Williams took the stage with drummer Zach Hill. The duo tore through a 45 minute set of songs to a strangely hushed audience, blasting through cuts from the Wavvves LP and showcasing new songs. "You guys are loud," an audience member noted.  "Thanks," William shouted, with an impish grin before launching into another song, his voice impossibly obscured by reverb.
 

by Frances Michelle Lopez

​

        I don't think I have ever paid $10 to see a punk band before. Growing up, I was raised with that $5 or no one turned away sort of punk rock mentality, the kind of ideal that hardcore forefathers like Ian MacKaye had deeply instilled in this vast and ever-changing D.I.Y culture. Places back home in Los Angeles like the Smell and Pehrspace still live up to that standard while smaller venues like the Trunk Space and Modified Arts try their best at keeping it around there as well. However, it's tough to be a promoter sometimes and with this economy you've just got to do what it takes to make sure the bands leave your town with at least a little gas money to get by. This was the case for the Nothington show at the Phix last night. While all the hip kids were probably either at the Yo La Tengo or Ghostface Killah shows, a handful of punk kids congregated at the Grand Avenue locale to catch a newer project fronted by Jay Northington formerly of Tsunami Bomb.

BY MIKE ESCOTO

Shawn Anderson courtesy of ElectricMustache.com

​ If you were a music fan in Phoenix on Wednesday night and looking to hit up a concert you had plenty of acts to choose from. The obvious choices were Yo La Tengo at Marquee Theatre or Ghostface Killah and Mayer Hawthorne at The Clubhouse. With two big name acts both playing on the same night it's not hard to see how the twangy Toronto indie trio Elliott BROOD at The Rhythm Room could get lost in the mix.

The obvious lack of attendance didn't keep Elliott BROOD band members from being in good humor. At one point during the show BROOD guitarist Casey Laforet joked that even though they only sold thirty-one tickets to the show they still sold more tickets than the Phoenix Coyotes. ZINGER!

​
It's been a pretty solid year to be a Yo La Tengo fan.  The Hoboken-based indie-rock institution (25 years and running) didn't just release one new album this year, they released two. Their latest, Popular Songs finds the band exploring their entire stylistic breadth, indulging in the orchestrated pop, Motown homages and plenty of anthems. The other, the slightly more provocatively titled Fuckbook, released earlier this year by their not-so-secret alter-egos Condo Fucks, is a sequel to their first cover album, Fakebook, and features the group garage rocking cuts from Slade, The Flamin' Groovies, and The Beach Boys, among others.

But perhaps the biggest treat for Phoenician fans of the band came last night as the group hit The Marquee Theatre, their first Phoenix tour-stop in over ten years. "It's been a long time since we played Phoenix," guitarist Ira Kaplan quipped.  "Can I say Phoenix?  I know we're in Tempe, but I don't know how touchy you all are about that."  The crowd laughed, and Kaplan softly echoed my sentiment about recent Phoenix-Tempe centered tweet wars: "Phoenix Metro Area, we can all agree on that, right?" 

The stage patter was kept to a minimum, though, as Kaplan, Georgie Hubley and James McNew tore through their set, periodically stopping to switch instruments, and offer quick thanks to the crowd.  "The first time we played Phoenix went terribly," Kaplan reminisced. "Frankly, it was humiliating." The smiles coming from onstage and abandoned cheer coming from the crowd suggested that Phoenix was more than willing to forgive the band for any past mishaps and their long absence.

Photo by Shawn Anderson, Courtesy of www.ElectricMustache.com

​Vivian Girls frontwoman Cassie no-relation Ramone is a shitgaze bombshell. She's the leader of a band that exemplifies a cultural phenomenon of what is hip, of glorifying paradoxes: greasy Cobain hair, $100 jeans, makeup free but with a wash of pin-up red lips.

Adriane Goetz

Wanda Jackson shows off her tiara at the Rhythm Room.

​Wanda Jackson has been dubbed many titles, most of which are some play on "The Queen/First Lady of Rock/Rock n Roll/Rockabilly." This year she finally got that official recognition when she was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame as an "Early Influence."

Last night, a 71-year-old Jackson proved what the giddy crowd already knew when she rocked the socks off the Rhythm Room in Phoenix.

Jackson kicked off her set with the 1958 hit "Mean, Mean Man," and played a variety of her country, rockabilly and gospel hits, as well as a few of her contemporaries' hits such as Elvis Presley's "Hound Dog" and Jerry Lee Lewis' "Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On."

Benjamin Leatherman

Malaki gets loud at the Trunk Space during Shizzfest.

​It's been something of a packed Saturday, what with Tour de Fat, the Tiki Throwdown, Oktoberfest, and various and sundry other weekend events happening around the Valley. If you've still got some energy and cash left, jump in your ride and head for Grand Avenue in downtown Phoenix, where the Shizzfest will be rocking the Trunk Space and the adjacent Sweets & Beats for another couple hours.

Benjamin Leatherman

Mike Montoya performs at Sweets & Beats.

​
So far it's been a pretty memorable experience. The members of Peachcake have been walking around talking on a voice-changing microphone shaped like a pumpkin, haute cuisine is getting served up in the Trunk Space's backyard, and as I write this LA's Platypus Egg are currently performing eclectic and eccentric pop music fit for a Tim Burton film (as well as declaring that they will melt the polar ice caps with gamma rays to create "the world's biggest pool party).

Plus, if you get thirsty and want to help out the Shizz, the neighboring Bikini Lounge is donating $1 from every beer sold to the local Web-board.

Here's the schedule for the remaining bands this evening.

Trunk Space (Indoor Stage)
8:00 p.m.: After Any Accident
9:00 p.m.: Peachcake
10:00 p.m.: Instructions
11:00 p.m.: Said Gun
11:30 p.m.: Rumspringer

Trunk Space (Outdoor Stage)
7:30 p.m.: Former Friends of Young Americans
8:30 p.m.: World Class Thugs
9:30 p.m.: The Other 49

Sweets & Beats:
7:30 p.m.: Snow Songs
8:30 p.m.: Wizwars (Los Angeles)
9:30 p.m.: Animals in the Dark (Albuquerque)
10:30 p.m.: Cagematch

Benjamin Leatherman

Quarter Inch Crown performs behind the Trunk Space.

​