Hello and welcome to the 23rd issue of Crow’s Nest. As always, if you are perceiving the text which constitutes this email newsletter, I thank you for opening and reading, and hope you find something within you appreciate.
Yesterday morning I awoke to the utterly horrifying and appalling news that eight people had died and numerous more were injured in a crowd crush incident in Houston at the Astroworld music festival, during headliner and host Travis Scott’s set. The victims remain in my thoughts, and I hope they are in yours as well, given your likely inclination towards live music independent of your personal taste.
I have been trying to withhold judgment and assigning blame on who or what caused this tragic incident, awaiting the results of a full investigation from the authorities in Houston, but I feel compelled to push back on some initial finger-pointing on who is responsible for this. Many people have started victim-blaming the attendees and/or Scott himself for the tragedy, claiming they were irresponsible in their behavior and actions leading up to this. While I have my own grievances with young-skewing crowds ‘not knowing how to behave’ in large festival environments, and Scott himself has built his reputation in part on an image of reckless thrill-seeking like the rockstars of previous generations, neither appear fully responsible for what’s transpired.
Attacking ‘kids these days’ is a constant over a century of vice stretching back to at least the Jazz Age, and there’s no clear distinguishing factor between Scott/Astroworld and previous tragedies involving Pearl Jam and The Who that makes him and/or his music different. That’s not to absolve Scott and the attendees for what happened: as I write the first lawsuits on this have been filed, and again, I am doing my best to wait for the full results of the investigation into this before I assign blame here.
Rushing to find a guilty party based on surface-level evidence seems misguided. In fact, I suspect it’s likely to enable the true culprits that led to this disaster to escape punishment.
As detailed below, in part, the costs of attending events like music festivals continues to skyrocket as a consolidated corporate environment books a concentrated handful of performers to sell tickets, advertising the hell out of triple-digit tickets that are often the only show these acts will play in that market on their current tour. The same targeted youth likely don’t have much discretionary income to attend or otherwise live their life; that’s obvious from the now-common videos of youth mobs overwhelming security entrances to get into big festivals, like one that occurred at Astroworld itself. Even if young people do have the money to properly attend, they obviously want to make the most of the experience. Have you ever been satisfied seeing your favorite artist from way in the back, well aware you paid hundreds to be there like everyone else in the crowd?
Simultaneously, organizers cut corners on safety, likely to pad profits or because the regulatory state is unable to fully enforce code compliance and other safety measures. If it’s broken but holds and no one raises too much of a stink, why pay to fix it?
It’s obviously more complicated than that, but from my own experience, it’s clear that the combination of desperation likely present within the audience and corporate greed providing an inadequately safe experience led to the combustible situation which ignited in Houston this weekend. Inequality kills, and in my head there’s a clear line running from the corporate meeting rooms planning Astroworld to the on-site organizational measures (or lack thereof) to the loss of life that transpired on Friday.
I don’t have a solution to all this; again, I don’t believe it should fall solely to attendees to keep themselves safe at events, and I am sympathetic to the squeeze most parties involved no doubt feel in attempting to put these events on. But without accountability and reform, I’m not confident that this is the last time this will occur.
To be clear, I have no confidence in the industry forming adequate protocols through self-regulation. As I was considering buying $100 GA Kraftwerk tickets this week, I saw the following from everyone’s favorite corporation, Live Nation:
$25 more to get into General Admission faster, so you can be behind a 6’4” dude 10 rows from the front instead of behind a 6’4” dude 25 rows from the front. (There’s always a 6’4” dude in front of you, it’s simple statistics and geometry.) Monetize the rot indeed.
At this point in my life and with the amount of music festivals I’ve attended, I feel confident saying that 2-day music festivals are, ceteris paribus, better than 3-day ones. 2 days still consumes the majority of your weekend, and you’re less likely to have a lengthy lull between acts you want to catch or other periods of downtime. You have enough time to explore the festival grounds and take in most everything, but not so much that you get fully bored of everything and question too deeply your expenses in attending. A really good one will leave you wanting more next time without the weariness from a full third day.
For III Points in Miami in particular, which I attended for the first time last month, the 2-day format was also good because even if I didn’t come down with an ear infection, probable bronchitis, and probably another non-COVID upper respiratory ailment after 2 days, I’m not sure I could have dealt with the fest’s bullshit for a third full day.
Organizationally, the layout was a disorienting mess. The main GA entrance was adjacent to I-95, requiring most to trek to the opposite side of Wynwood’s most walkable side, then back to where they wanted to go within the grounds. Stages were unlabeled, resulting in numerous “Is this X?” conversations within the crowd. Paths between the stages were circuitously maze-like even if the map claimed they were right next to each other. Main Frame, the only covered stage, was undersized relative to the acts playing it, making for a concerning level of crowding once bigger acts starting playing. Main thoroughfares between stages were often marked only with ‘Emergency Exit’ signs, adding to confusion about how and where to go to get to your next set. Emergency responders were haphazardly located throughout the festival grounds, often making it feel like you were somewhere you weren’t supposed to be when going to the closest bar or bathroom.
Communication-wise there was plenty of cause for concern. While I expect my cell signal to weaken on festival grounds, this was the worst I can ever recall, with 3-4 hours stretches of next to no service. Had there been a need to evacuate or worse I’m not convinced the message would have gotten out properly. Last-minute cancellations, replacements and schedule updates from visas and COVID were communicated as quietly as possible, leading to a constant need to check for updates and re-plan your days. Jacques Greene in particular got pushed around so much I’m relieved he even got on a stage. Given the 11 total stages you were guaranteed to miss some major acts you wanted to see (mine include Wu-Tang Clan and Park Hye Jin), but needing to scrutinize changes to see who got quietly unpersoned from the lineup is never fun.
On top of that, the cost of food and drink on the grounds was outrageous. Yes, it’s a festival, yes, I was willfully ignoring what I was putting on my card beyond sighing at another $30 tab for a double drink and can of water, and yes, the food options were filling (and not messy). Still, I wound up spending more on concessions in 2 days at the fest than I did on my ticket, and I wasn’t exactly maintaining a fully intoxicated buzz from the moment I got onto festival grounds. Worst of all, there were no water filling stations to be found, and half-liter cans of Liquid Death were $6 apiece. For a festival running for 13 hours where temperatures never got below 80°, that is criminally negligent, full stop.
Those points aside, I did enjoy the fest … when it wasn’t raining. On the first day I arrived during a downpour, and technically snuck into the fest after a security guard waved me in through a fence gap as I couldn’t find the GA entrance. Thank god I had packed a poncho and was wearing my Doc Martens. After some initial exploring and drying off at Vegyn, then Objekt, I bounced around for the rest of the PM portion of the day, until another downpour struck just before midnight, scrambling most people and cutting Yves Tumor’s set short. Yves did get back onstage and finish, thankful that some fans returned and his key player’s rig escaped water damage. Heading over to The Strokes afterwards, Julian Casablancas was phoning it in, spending multiple overly long breaks between songs reciting commercial jingles he heard on the boob tube earlier that day. He expressed gratitude for being there and the fans for sticking with him, yet said it in the same flat affect that made one doubt his sincerity.
Throughout the fest this dichotomy stayed in place: the best acts were outwardly grateful to be (back) there playing for live fans, or otherwise kept their heads down to deliver what they and crowds were there for. I don’t mean the above in a ‘stick to music’ way, I don’t need everyone on stage to bow to me in thanks for my generosity in paying for a ticket to see them do their thing. But you could definitely tell who was excited to be back behind the decks on or stage, doing what they love, and who appeared to back from furlough at a position they’d come to resent. “It’s like this is our job or something”, MoMA Ready sneered into the mic during the most energetic opening of a DJ set I think I've ever heard, playing alongside friend and partner AceMo, as though trying to internalize that yes, this music thing is working out for him. Others including Thundercat, Kelly Lee Owens, and local DJ Moscoman provided similar highlights.
At least here in the United States, III Points and my trip to Miami have shown that we are at or close to something like a ‘new normal’ equilibrium for live music (and probably life in a pandemic in general). There’s a cynical reading to the titular question of The Strokes’s debut album that certainly struck a chord with me while attending. On the other side, I’m thinking a lot about Robert Hood’s closing set on Saturday after AceMoMa. A last-minute call-up to replace Special Request, there wasn’t a whole of emotion I could discern behind his face mask and Tigers fitted cap. Delivering an hour and a half of a masterclass on the Detroit techno that has resonated around the world, I imagine he was reflecting on the friends, peers, mentors and colleagues lost over the past 2 years or so. Still getting gigs, still relevant today, he seemed determined to keep representing the Motor City and remind the Miami crowd that we were there to celebrate something special and keep this thing alive. If live music and dance culture wasn’t this special, I’m not sure why we’re bothering to keep investing so much in it.
Just in time for Daylight Savings, Grouper’s back. This is easily Liz Harris’s most accessible ‘recent’ work, mostly guitar and distortion in conventional song structures; given her disregard for linear continuity with when she releases the music she’s recorded, it’s impossible to say how much this reflects her recent output. Still, ‘accessible’ remains a relative term given the fogginess of the phrases one can actually make out when she sings. Several songs incorporate the resonant tones in the rooms they were recorded in to an enchanting duet-ish effect. Whether this is your first time diving into her world or, like me, you somehow forgot how resonant her work is, this record is another beautiful haze to keep spinning on quiet nights and other periods of melancholy longing.
To my Anglophone ears and eyes, dating back to 2016 when Kedr Livanskiy/John’s Kingdom first made waves, every time I learn about a new Russian producer I feel like they’re described as the ‘best kept secret’ in the country, musically speaking. This time, it doesn’t feel like an exaggeration. Hoavi is rooted in dub techno, sharing a label with the genre’s pseudonymous producer du jour Topdown Dialectic (who I can never get into). Where other producers in this realm often get bogged down in textured abstraction that wind ups in wishy-washy ambient territory, they keep things interesting by moving at a double time pace, throwing around ideas, riffs and developments with the speed of juke or footwork. If you (somehow) tire of this after a few spins, a more ambient album of his is out next week.
This week brought the unfortunate news that Montreal post-punk band Ought have broken up. One of my favorite bands of the past decade, Sun Coming Down recently found itself back in my regular rotation and it still feels like one of the best encapsulations of neoliberal malaise I’ve ever heard, right as the world definitely started feeling like it was coming off of its rails. (You can probably tell it meant a lot to me in undergrad.)
The flip side of that news and announcement is that members Tim Darcy and Ben Stidworthy have started a new band, Cola, with US Girls drummer Evan Cartwright, and have signed to one of Crow’s Nest favorite indie labels Fire Talk. Based on the debut single Cola is not Ought 2.0, moving in more peculiar and abstract territory than the former band’s thrashier moments. They still have my ear and I’m looking forward to more from them.
I highly doubt this EP’s title is (or will be) true, especially if my therapist has anything to say about that. Nevertheless this glitch house EP on one of DJ Haus’s numerous Unknown to the Unknown sublabels caught my ears while I was laying around my hotel room in Miami. Well worth a few spins.
Those following international politics are aware of rising tensions on the Polish-Belorussian border, with Belarus facilitating irregular migration/refugee arrivals to the EU border to pressure Poland and the EU following sanctions on Belarus, after protests following Belarus’s disputed 2020 election. The situation is complicated especially considering Poland’s own domestic and EU issues, but within the political posturing and gamesmanship are the human beings attempting to reach a better life in the EU caught in the crossfire. Oramics, a progressive group working to empower women and LGBTQIA+ persons in the Polish dance music scene, has organized this compilation to help fundraise for those migrants most affected in this situation. Octo Octa and Loraine James, among others, feature.
Longform abstractions label Moot Tapes, based out of Kilkenny, has come onto my radar as another Irish label worth paying attention to every time they drop a new release. I don’t have much to go for this one but listening to it, there are moments of dark beauty moving between groovy motorik-driven krautrock/dance-punk and its more abstract moments.
This is a dark-hued slab of noisy death rock out of Kingston, NY, which from what I’ve seen appears to be emerging as an upstate Williamsburg of sorts for those who missed that era. Yes, writing that made me want to take a shot of Malört as a palette cleanser. Still, this album is worth a spin if you like your guitar music on the abrasive side.
One of the days in Miami I got lunch at El Zambo Street Food, a food truck near the Design District. Not only was the food great, but the speakers set up by the tables were playing an amazing mix of Latin American music and sounds. Speaking with the operator, he said the tracks came from an NYC DJ Mixtiiii. I have more research to do on that, but below is one of the songs my phone could recognize (1980!). It remains a cool and pretty awesome moment from that trip and a reminder of the power of discovery that can come from unexpected places.
Yes, I’ve fallen a bit behind on all the new music I want myself to check out; Crow’s Nest is experiencing its own structural issues with its supply chain, and we appreciate your patience as you encounter delays in hearing the latest good music while we iron out issues with it. This heart-on-its-sleeve punk from down under came out a couple months ago, and it’s perfect for shouting along with at a dive or in your bedroom. I can’t place whether some of the rubbery lead lines come from a guitar or synth.
This next one’s for fans of Stereolab. A similar mixture of sounds and influences comes in on this L.A. group’s debut as the non-lounge parts of everyone’s favorite British-French krautrockers, while adding in some of the sloganeering, darkness and deadpan wordplay of one of my other favorite genres, post-punk. When they roll into Chicago on tour come say hi to me between sets and that, I’ll be sure to be there.
And with that, that’s a lot of words, I’m going to call it an issue there. As always if you’ve gotten to this point, thank you for reading Crow’s Nest, I hope you found something within you enjoyed. Until next time, I’m @embirdened on Twitter and you can also reach out to me through the buttons below. Take care.