Street Scene '08

On Friday afternoon, Amy I and drove down to San Diego for Street Scene, a music festival downtown with an impressive musical lineup. I was extremely excited, but it didn’t take long for me to remember why I often shy away from festivals: people. I just don’t like most people, as they tend to be obnoxious. Especially teenagers and scenesters, who comprised the majority of the attendees.

We got up close to the stage for MGMT, although I would have gladly stood further back if it meant being surrounded by better people. Somehow, a bunch of kids managed to sneak their drugs, alcohol, and rotten personalities through the gates undetected and wreaked havoc. Once MGMT started playing, I was instantly in a better mood, but it didn’t stop me from exacting revenge in somewhat subtle ways. While the crowd was dancing, I not-so-accidentally would ram my hips and limbs into the people I wasn’t fond of, and with one idiot in particular, rather than singing along to the lyrics, I kept screaming “douche” into eir ear. I’m sure it went over eir head, however, since before leaving, this same stoned idiot told eir companion with no sense of irony, “I love live music. I wonder who came up with it.” I shit you not, ey said it and ey meant it. I’d like to imagine that, after years of recording music, some artist had an epiphany: “What if instead of playing our music in the studio, we played it live for people? It’s so crazy, it just might work.”

MGMT closed with my favorite song of the moment, “Kids” and it made up for every cruddy interaction with teenagers thus far.

MGMT - Kids


Since the New Pornographers were coming up next at the same location, we were able to get up against the stage. While waiting for the set to begin, I happened to be next to a bunch of girls from Scripps College. It wasn’t yet 7 o’clock, yet some of them were so drunk that they couldn’t stand. “I can’t believe she can fall asleep with all this noise,” a friend quipped after her friend went unconscious. Actually, she didn’t fall asleep, she passed out, but I wasn’t about to point this out. After waking the girl back up, a few of the friends wandered elsewhere, only to be deemed so intoxicated that they were kicked out of the festival altogether. After receiving a text message sharing this news, their irritated friends left too, one of whom claimed, “It’s not even 8, it’s too soon to be kicked out.” Evidently, getting kicked out at a more reasonable hour would have been fine.

I am wild for The New Pornographers, even if Neko isn’t touring with the band. They were great, but I wish I had relaxed more and just enjoyed it; I was constantly on edge hoping they would play my favorite song of all time, “The Bleeding Heart Show.” (That’s not hyperbole, if you were to ask me what my favorite song ever is, I’d answer with that.) It was so important to me that I became disappointed each time another song, even those I loved, was played instead. Fortunately, they finally played it and I smiled like a goof.

The New Pornographers - The Bleeding Heart Show


At the set’s completion, as soon as I walked away from the stage, I could feel a previously unnoticed intense burning in my thighs, forcing me to sit throughout most of Spoon’s performance. Rather than dancing myself, I derived most of my enjoyment from watching middle-aged people dancing. While most of the people present were young and danced with youthful abandon, I most admired the trendy farts who spiked their hair up and made no apologies about getting into the mix. I was motivated during my favorite Spoon songs, like “Don’t Make Me a Target,” but, frankly, I was too sore, which I suppose is all the more reason to respect the 40-somethings shaking their groove things.

Spoon - Don't Make Me a Target


After Spoon, we trotted over to see Justice, who put on a hell of a visual spectacle. Calling Justice to Daft Punk-lite might be too obvious and limiting, but I heard multiple fellow concertgoers make the same comparison. We made sure to “do the dance, do the dance,” before trekking to Vampire Weekend.

I’m fascinated with Vampire Weekend, in part because it is one band I can legitimately say I was into long before they attained even so much as a blog presence. I first learned about them for a cheeky song about Cape Cod, “Walcott,” that was the right amount of silly and nostalgic.

Vampire Weekend - Walcott


Later, while looking for other tunes by the band, I stumbled upon “Oxford Comma,” and knew the band had stolen my heart with the opening line: “Who gives a fuck about an oxford comma?” (For the non-grammatically inclined, an Oxford comma is one used before an “and” in order lists, as in “red, white, and blue.”) I believe the lyrics to this song are some of the cleverest, most complicated I have ever encountered:

Vampire Weekend - Oxford Comma

Oxford Comma
Vampire Weekend

Who gives a fuck about an Oxford comma?
I've seen those English dramas too, they're cruel
So if there's any other way to spell the word
It's fine with me, with me

Why would you speak to me that way?
Especially when I always said that I
Haven't got the words for you
All your diction dripping with disdain
Through the pain
I always tell the truth

Who gives a fuck about an Oxford comma?
I climbed to Dharamsala too, I did
I met the highest Lama, his accent sounded fine
To me, to me

Check your handbook, it's no trick
Take the chapstick, put it on your lips
Crack a smile, adjust my tie
Know your boyfriend, unlike other guys

Why would you lie about how much coal you have?
Why would you lie about something dumb like that?
Why would you lie about anything at all?
First the window, then it's to the wall
Lil' Jon, he always tells the truth

Check your passport, it's no trick
Take the chapstick, put it on your lips
Crack a smile, adjust my tie
Know your butler, unlike other guys

Why would you lie about how much coal you have?
Why would you lie about something dumb like that?
Why would you lie about anything at all?
First the window, then it's through the wall
Why would you tape my conversations?
Show your paintings at the United Nations
Lil' Jon, he always tells the truth

I love the bitter alliteration of “diction dripping with disdain.” I love the pun about “crack”ing a smile after applying chapstick. I love the subtle transposition of the word “boyfriend” to “butler” between verses. And I love the reference to one of the filthiest songs ever, “Get Low” by Lil” Jon, as an absurd, yet arguable example of honesty.

Vampire Weekend gets a lot of flak for being bourgeoisie, but the more I analyze their lyrics, the more I see the satire in their act. They are ridiculing pretension, the very image they put forth. Vampire Weekend’s songs are so rich in educated allusions, that I’ve had to do some research just to know to what obscure place or person the band was referring. Vampire Weekend is pretentious, too, but that seems to be part of their upper-class, prep-school Caucasian upbringing that they only sort of apologize for, and only sort-of have to.

Being both a participant and a critic of an identity might get you branded a hypocrite, but I’d argue for honest. For example, I can relate to hating the identity I’ve been raised to be, but still acknowledge that it is a major part of me. Heck, I simultaneously give a fuck about an oxford comma, and don’t. Perhaps it shouldn’t matter, but still, it sort of does. Call it tradition, call it elitism, but I have a hang up that necessitates me using one. And it probably has a lot more to do with the fact that I also understand the inside jokes about Cape Cod than I was previously willing to admit.

In short, I think a lot about the societal implications of Vampire Weekend. The concert didn’t necessarily provide me with any new insight, but it sure was fun. Maybe that's all I really need to understand.

To close the night, we slogged over to the main stage for Beck. I’m tempted to call Beck’s performance boring, but I think it’s more accurate to call myself boring. After about eight hours of standing, I didn’t have it in me to enjoy Beck like I should have. Though most of his repertoire features high-energy songs, my favorite in the moment was his somber lullaby-like lament, “Lost Cause.” Of course, I might have identified more with “Loser” had I made it to the set in time to hear it.

Beck - Lost Cause


Overall, I had a good time, and had the opportunity to check off a lot of artists from my “Want-to-See-Live” list. I’m going to have to contemplate whether I can handle large amounts of stupid people before attempting this sort of activity again, however.



(I’ve “borrowed” divShare, this better way of posting music to stream and download, from Preston, so credit and thanks to em.)