Welcome to our coverage of Capitol Hill Block Party. Below are our thoughts on Day 1. More pieces coming daily and look for a photo recap soon!

Radiation City  

For my money, Portland’s Radiation City is the perfect choice for a festival-opening band.  While not familiar with their music before hearing them, they immediately ingratiated themselves into my heart with their lilting harmonies and a journeying sound that continued to evolve throughout the set.  Pink Floyd, Jefferson Airplane, Zappa, and all the finest sonic explorers of the 60s and 70s woven into one conscious thought, and the whole thing has a bonafide, full-on Casiotone backbone.  At times chaotic and at times softly wrapping you in the scarlet tones of intertwining harmonies, Radiation City set a VERY high bar for those to come. 

Lures

Lures (formerly Ambulance) are surf rock for sure, but less sunshine and more rain. Spencer Miller’s bass and Dillon Christopher’s drums are watch-like in their precision, as well they should be.  The two have been playing together for years now, and it shows. Sam Peterson’s guitar has the jangle that you need it to have but not the joy you’d expect from a “surf rock” sound. The guitar tends to meander throughout the generally under appreciated lower register, which leads perfectly for singers vocals. With a signature low tone and not a ton of movement Sam’s vocals could fall victim to monotony, but instead become conversational. No wailing or shrieking makes for a heartfelt honest interplay between singer and audience. While the bass and drums could easily fall into the boring rock beat and four count pound the move, subtly, as if to make sure you’re paying attention. And they’re SMART. None of this bar bar bar fill shit. It’s alive. It’s intelligently syncopated and arranged. With a full length record in the can to be released early next year, Lures is definitely a Seattle band to watch.

Telekinesis

Having seen the touring incarnation of Michael Lerner’s project Telekinesis at Sasquatch, I was excited to see if anything had changed.  While I remain impressed by the talent of Mr. Lerner in creating the music (as well as his ability to wear the same shirt every time I see him perform), and the musicianship of the performers he’s currently touring with, I remain unimpressed with the music itself.  I understand that it’s impressive that it’s created by one guy, but I don’t really feel like there’s an identifiable aspect of the music where I hear it and immediately say “Oh hey that’s Telekinesis.”  I miss that.  I want that.  Michael Lerner, please give me that.

Heavy Petting

This prog-rock brainchild of two Evans and a Derek is relentless. The instrumental trio care not for vocals, and why should they?  They deceitfully weave crushing solos with spacey ethereal interludes, seemingly never satisfied with the product, and then pouring down the rabbit hole of complexity with reckless abandon. They build intricate webs of sound held together by the finest gossamer, such that when each song ends, it’s as if it comes crashing don around you. These guys fuck around with rhythm and key like they care not for convention, but never recklessly, and never inaccessibly, and its so refreshing.  So refreshing that for about 20 minutes, I forgot that the Cha-Cha is a hellish sweat box when it’s packed.

Danny Brown 

Danny Brown is great.  Everyone should listen to more Danny Brown.  The crowd loved  it, but I had already seen him play the exact same set, so I was able to go check out Iska Dhaaf back in the Cha-Cha.

Iska Dhaaf 

Iska Dhaaf is Mt St Helens Vietnam guitarist and front-man Benjamin Verdoes and Seattle staple Nathan Quiroga (Mad Rad), and goddammit they mean business.  Verdoes puts down the guitar and picks up the sticks for this round, and it’s a perfect match. Here’s the thing though:  Ben had to learn how to play drums, then to drum with one hand and play keys with the other.  Nathan, an MC in his human form, had to learn guitar AND bass AND keys, and here I am unable to walk and drink anything at the same time.  Verdoes’ unrelenting search for perfection shows in his drumming style, resulting in a perfectly timed,  reliable foundation from which Quiroga’s guitar, bass, and keys grow and bloom.  Quiroga’s vocals are perfect and light, with lyrics pulled from the collective soul of man.  The greatness of Iska Dhaaf is found in the joining of these two massively talented musicians and the fact that despite individual success, they do not require that their egos be fed in order to find satisfaction.  It’s in the letting go that greatness comes.

Young Evils 

I had just missed the Young Evils earlier in the day at the Vita Room, so I was determined to finally catch them at Barboza.  I came down to a packed house, and took up a spot in the back. With credit to whomever was doing sound in Barboza, I could hear fairly well, but what I heard was disconcerting.  I had heard so much hype about how “this band opened for this famous band” that I came in with expectations of greatness.  Young Evils are talented to be sure, and they deserve all things that come to them.  I, however, had just heard two of Seattle’s best musicians at the top of their game, and after that, Young Evils was powerless.  The duet-style vocals are neat, but lost after a few minutes, with the pounding eight-note kick dominating damn-near everything that I heard.  Having had my fill of pounding kicks at Sasquatch, I made haste for the doorway.   I left just in time.

Dillon Francis  

I heard someone say recently that “Djs are the new shamans.”  I love that, because in essence, it’s true.   The modern record-spinners are experts at moving people in a particular way, and manipulating an audience to rise and fall with the music that they give them.  In this aspect, Dillon Francis might be the master.  I’ve seen electronic acts that fall flat, depending on the personality of the DJ rather than the music itself to power the show.  Francis is completely the opposite, appearing onstage in a button-down shirt and no real fanfare, and immediately goes to work.  The sun is setting so it’s that time of day where people are either going to stay out and play or go home to stay, and Mr Francis wouldn’t let us leave even if we wanted to.  The first set dropped and all heads within earshot whipped around in unison, as if the magic spell had been cast.  Utilizing off-center syncopations and frequency-bending samples, Francis wove a tapestry of sound that seemed to start inside you and, over the course of a few minutes built a frenzy in the crowd that was palpable before dropping the whole thing to the floor like a stack of dishes, crashing into a dub arrangement that laid low the landscape.  That’s what I like about electronic music in a festival setting.  Unlike your Macklemore or your Imagine Dragons, it’s less about the stage show and ALL about the music.  Electronic music allows the crowd to throw their heads back and enjoy it, instead of constantly trying to improve your view or proximity to the stage.  Dillon Francis had us all in the palm of his damn hand, and when it was  over, he let us down gently and returned to the sky from whence he came.

Secret Colors

On an electronic music high, I decided to run down to Barboza and check out Secret Colors.  I was met with a mostly empty room with one guy on a keyboard, and a subtly changing drone filling the room.  I really can’t put into words what was happening, but I can tell you it certainly was not what I expected.  I really wanted it to be anything other than the droning complexity that it was.  It was a momentum killer; a knife in the heart of fun.  I can definitely appreciate what Matt Lawson was going for, and exploration of electronic sound, in it’s simplest forms, finding complexity even in simplicity, but it was poorly timed and poorly cast.  This is not an artist for the middle of the day at a festival.  I’d love to hear it in its proper theatrical setting, but right now, I have to go get STRFKD

STRFKR

I’ve maintained for quite some time that STRFKR are some of the Pacific Northwest’s least appreciated sons. This is hard to understand if you’ve ever seen them live. They’re synth-driven undercarriage supports a framework of meandering keys and lead guitars. The vocals are a welcome connecting tissue in it’s finest form.  The best part about STRFKR is the periphery.  There’s the music, which is great, but it’s also the astronaut casually gyrating onstage.  It’s the panda bear wearing a cape throwing confetti from a raft floating on a river of outstretched hands, and it’s the guy in brown and a horse head that isn’t surprising at all.  They are powerful, with an undeniable groove that is impossible to ignore, and, by looking at the thousands of people undulating as one, they’re welcome back home anytime.

GirlTalk

I was hoping that STRFKR was going to be the perfect precursor for GirlTalk.  I was hoping that Greg Gillis was going to take their confetti-strewn torch and run with it.  I was hoping that I would ascend the very steps of FunVallhalla and feast with the FunVikings, but it was not to be. There was just Greg, surrounded by kids, again, playing songs on his computer.  It was basically the same thing he’s always done, weaving popular beats into house rhythms, samples leading to riff changes and artists you recognize, such as Eminem and ODB, mixed with a consistent 4/4 bass beat.  It was okay, and if I would’ve been drunk I probably would have enjoyed it, but I was not.  It seemed tired, old, and out of touch.  It’s neat because it’s fast, but it was nothing like the GirlTalk I had seen a few years ago on this very stage, the manic, possessed Greg Gillis that had no equal.  I miss that guy.

BellaMaine

I wandered into Neumo’s dejected, sad and let down.  Then I heard Julianne and Nick sing.  BellaMaine was a band on my list that I didn’t really expect to see.  I expected to be much more tired after GirlTalk, but this was not the case.  I’m so happy it turned out this way, because BellaMaine is something special.  The Anacortes, WA 5-piece is pop at heart, but with an ethereal quality that instantly captivates.  Julianne Thompson’s vocals are inspired, with a cathedral-like resonance that belies years of practice.  Nick Thompson (husband, methinks?) is equally talented and their voices weave together in a playful, loving way that provided, for me at least, the perfect, retributive close for the day.

(Day 2 here)