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Sunday, September 21
Words by: Kayceman | Images by: Josh Miller
 Treasure Island 2008 by Miller |
Sunday is God's Day. And for those Bay Area folks lucky enough to worship at the Temple of Sound, we gathered at the idyllic Treasure Island Music Festival. Lodged between S.F. and Oakland, a more beautiful spot would be hard to find, and when God lets the glorious sun breakthrough the fog bank and pour down upon thee, warming the face while the temperate ocean breeze cools it just the same, there are few more wonderful places to spend your time.
The day began at 12:30 with local country-tinged roots act Or, The Whale and ended in triumphant fashion at 10:30 with rock & roll superstars The Raconteurs. Packed between were twelve other bands making this a fourteen act full day of sonic bliss. While not every artist had the glow of God ringing through their amps, we were treated to a few Higher Power minstrels. The Fleet Foxes' heavenly harmonies, Dr. Dog's biblical references, Jason Pierce's Spiritualized (come on, the name says it all!) and good ole devil boy Jackie White and his Raconteurs. God's no fool; he wants White on his team. Jack may have traded spit with Satan but he's still on his way to the pearly gates; God loves him a mean guitar player. So with perfect weather, a perfect sized crowd and a stellar batch of bands, we pray for more days like this one.
Okkervil River - Bridge Stage - 3:05-3:50
One of the premier songwriters hovering just below the cusp of stardom, Will Sheff led his band Okkervil River through a blistering set of jangly, fuzzed-out rock & roll stories. With Sheff primarily on acoustic guitar, the swaying rhythms were propelled by a giant kick-drum thump while the "la-la-la" melodies softened its blow. Amongst the six rowdy players onstage, the gal to the left swapped between dissonant guitar wails, banjo, lap steel and handclaps to give nuance and shading to Sheff's manic, almost neurotic (in a good way) delivery. There were few solos, the band instead electing to build tension by playing together and for each other, always finding the right spots – not just looking for the hot ones. With the blazing sun creating beads of sweat upon each and every face, Sheff closed the set by leading the crowd in a fast-paced, clap-along, throbbing reading of standout track "Unless It Kicks."
Fleet Foxes -Tunnel Stage - 3:50-4:25
 Robin Pecknold - Fleet Foxes by Miller |
As you ride that escalator up to Heaven, it's Seattle's Fleet Foxes who will be providing the score. Built on lush harmonies, earthy rhythms and beautiful compositions, there's really nothing not to like about the Fleet Foxes. With the sun behind him, lead singer-acoustic guitarist Robin Pecknold began the set by leading his bards through the appropriate "Sun Giant." With his unique voice, Shakespearean imagery and almost medieval song structure, Pecknold gives Fleet Foxes a timeless aura that's difficult to pin into any one category. The harmonies remind one of CSNY, but the musical accompaniment and casual, almost shy stage demeanor set them in another, truly unique place altogether. If there were a complaint it would be the amount of stage banter between songs. Not that it was annoying (like a band soon to be discussed), it was just a short set and we wanted more songs. With only 35-minutes to perform (that's all most side stage acts got), there was no time for chitchat, but it was well worth waiting for songs like the show-stopping "Blue Ridge Mountains." Next time around, Fleet Foxes deserve a spot on the big stage.
Spiritualized - Bridge Stage - 4:30-5:15
Just as the Fleet Foxes were trying to squeeze in one more delicate song, the giant fuzz of Spiritualized covered the island. Switching from the swooning church harmonies of Fleet Foxes to the devastating drone of Spiritualized surprisingly wasn't a stretch at all. This was just a different take on communion. Huge distorted guitars tore at eardrums as the two black backup singers pushed the set-opening "Amazing Grace" above the wall of noise into what could be considered garage-gospel. Easily the loudest band of the day (and for the most part in a good way) with seven people onstage, bandleader Jason Pierce is still going for volume, and here he let it scream with primal indulgence. Perhaps the most impressive thing about this squall of noise is that it contains a secret overdrive. There is a whole new level of loud that they go to long after you think the noise has been maxed out. A fun, bone-shaking trick if you can pull it off. While the sheer power of the sound waves moving at the listener are critical, what gives them context is the gorgeous counterpoint of the backup singers and the layers of instrumentation (like a healing slide guitar, for example) that are sparingly allowed to pop out from under the guitar wail. During a stellar version of their smash hit "Ladies and Gentleman We Are Floating in Space," Pierce sang, "All I want in life's a little bit of love to take the pain away," which eventually drifted into an interesting take on Elvis' "Can't Help Falling In Love" before the whole set melted down with a heated "Come Together" (their original song, not the Beatles track) that left most in the crowd with their mouth open and ears ringing.
The Dodos - Tunnel Stage - 5:15-5:50
 Ezra Koenig - Vampire Weekend TI 08 by Miller |
Another rising San Francisco act, The Dodos are officially the duo of acoustic guitarist Meric Long and drummer Logan Kroeber but are often joined by a third member on percussion who adds a nice touch with the vibes. Watching the local boys bang out an urgent blend of indie pop with tastefully muddled hooks in front of the city skyline was a cool visual to compliment their sound. Much of the vocals were difficult to discern in the rowdy live setting, but it didn't make much difference – this is all about rhythm. From the syncopated drumbeats to the rhythm guitar to the rhythmic singing, The Dodos were clear in their intentions. Not overly impressive but good fun nonetheless, and their set-closing selection, "Jodi" (with the refrain "We can do this on our own"), proved to be the catchiest of the bunch.
Vampire Weekend - Bridge Stage - 5:55-6:40
Here's the thing about Vampire Weekend: They're really not that bad. Obviously lots of folks think this. They get good slots at lots of festivals, sell tons of albums, play big rooms and get an insane amount of press including the cover of Spin magazine at the beginning of 2008 with the words "The Year's Best New Band... Already!?" next to their cute little prep school picture. Best New Band of The Year? Hardly. They aren't even the best new band at Treasure Island. Hype can be a real bitch. After all the buzz fell flat when everyone saw a half-baked Vampire Weekend at SXSW there was a backlash that is still being felt. For every college coed who praised their bouncy indie pop there were three dudes in black t-shirts talking shit. Giving the guys another chance at Treasure Island, it might have been the drummer's Phish shirt that received the most interesting commentary, but it was their infectious African guitar lines that had folks moving. There was plenty to enjoy, but just like most flash in the pan, overexposed new acts, it was thin like a wafer. From the songwriting to the delivery to the actual sound, it was almost transparent. No meat, no juice, no umph, no texture. It's nice and can work in the background, but does anyone really want their music described like that? This is a classic case of the need for maturation, hard knocks on the road, some life experience and dirt-under-the-nails struggle. If the band can make a second and a third album that keeps fans glued to their boyish looks, well, then we may have to reconsider; but for now one assumes Vampire Weekend will be in the "where are they now?" category in less than five years.
Dr. Dog - Tunnel Stage - 6:40-7:20
 Scott McMicken - Dr. Dog TI 08 by Miller |
If Vampire Weekend is the product of an ailing industry, built up by the hype-machine and an A&R rep that knew they had the look, Dr. Dog is the exact opposite. They don't have the classic good looks that fit on glossy mags and they don't make shiny pop that your mom would play at her cocktail party. The Dog are retro-rockers who have been grinding it out in Philly for almost a decade, cranking out weirdo home recordings, packing CDs with sprinkles and constantly creating exciting albums and putting on cathartic shows. At Treasure Island, they came out swinging with "Hang On," the second song off their stellar new album, Fate. Usually a five-piece, for this festival set they swelled to seven, adding an extra acoustic guitarist and a tambourine man. Switching from the gritty, husky vocals of bass player Toby Leaman to the quirky (a compliment here, for sure), higher range of guitarist, and sometimes pianist Scott McMicken, this is a band in the truest sense - full of subtle dynamics, shifts in focus and intricate moments of brilliance where everyone knows their place and pushes their section to the edge. With rarely any attention paid to the limelight or gratuitous dialogue, they milked every second of their 40-minute slot on the smaller stage. Playing a wide range of material but sticking most closely to the newer songs, the comparisons to The Beatles and The Beach Boys (a lo-fi version) were apparent in the vocal harmonies and interplay between musicians, but trying to pin them under any one umbrella would be foolish. Dr. Dog is their own band, and this day they were huge, the rhythm section swinging with big brass balls and a thick, heavy backbone while every solo and every word were delivered with the utmost passion and emotion. Songs like "Worst Trip" and the thundering, apocalyptic "The Ark" displayed the secret ingredient that truly makes Dr. Dog special: song craft. Like any band they've ever been compared to, these guys know how to write a song. The instrumental sections are laid out well but are never sterile. The vocal parts lean on harmonies but also allow for guttural screaming. Everything this band performs is built incredibly well. Dr. Dog was the best set of the day up until this point.
Tegan & Sara - Bridge Stage - 7:25-8:20
 Tegan & Sara TI 08 by Miller |
As day turned to night, the weather continued to be a source of joy. The cool breeze that kept the hot sun from being too warm fell calm as the night air blew off the ocean for a mild night framed by the lights twinkling off the San Francisco business district. Everything was going great and Tegan & Sara were off to a fine start with "You Wouldn't Like Me." But then it just got ridiculous. I had never seen these identical twin Canadians before and apparently the between-song banter is part of their deal, but good God, I was ready to throw something at the stage during their repeated dialog about the fucking Lost Boys movie. I shit you not, between every song there was at least a few minutes of pointless dribble - talk about the Ferris Wheel and vampires and premature ejaculation and then The Lost Boys again and more ejaculation. It was ridiculous. When they actually played, it was okay, maybe not my bag, but I could see how the actual music would appeal to some folks. A quick cover of Rihanna's "Umbrella" and a nice rendition of their song "Where Does The Good Go" were solid, but the damage had been done. I spent most of their set thinking about Jack White and laughing at the twins, not with them.
The Kills - Tunnel Stage - 8:20-9:00
The Kills are a punk rock, electro garage duo consisting of vocalist-guitarist VV (aka Alison Mosshart) and guitarist-drummer-vocalist Hotel (aka Jamie Hince). Playing atop preprogrammed synthetic drumbeats, the duo utilized heaps of guitar distortion and drugged out vocals to create a rather interesting, mysterious vibe. The duo configuration brought to mind Ghostland Observatory, but the music was less disco funk and more dirty punk with chunky guitars. That and Ghostland just puts on a far more interesting show with way more stage presence and visual components. With The Raconteurs about to start, The Kills also had me thinking about just how powerful Jack White is in his other band. Of course, they aren't going for the same thing, but watching The Kills really made it clear what a duo that includes Jack White can do. He and Meg make more noise than The Kills could make if they doubled their numbers – but then again, it's not fair to compare anyone to Jack White.
The Raconteurs - Bridge Stage - 9:05-10:20
 Jack White - The Raconteurs by Miller |
Less than two-minutes into The Raconteurs' set and it was clear this was their night (but when isn't it Jack's night?). Walking out to strobe lights and a huge feedback jam full of thrashing drums and punishing guitars, it was finally time to rawk. Starting with the beefy combination of "Salute Your Solutions" and "Level," the band's 90-minute set never waned. There were tempo changes and slower ballads with Jack on the piano ("Blue Veins," "You Don't Understand Me") or acoustic guitar ("Top Yourself" including beautiful slide work by Brendan Benson) but every song, solo and note was electrified with intensity.
It's not hyperbole to say that Jack White is one of the greatest axe-slingers alive. His solos, while often not overly technical, are so overpowering and full of hard to discern sounds, one often finds themselves just staring at the man asking, "What the fuck?" White does depraved, dirty, mean things to his guitar; making it squeal and cry in the most obscene ways. But what makes The Raconteurs so fucking great is that they are a real band. It's easy to assume this is Jack White's gig, but it simply isn't true. Brendan Benson sings at least half (probably more) of the songs, and dude can play a mean guitar as well. But it's not just that he sings and plays guitar, it's HOW he sings and plays guitar. Benson and White have that thing, that energy, that dynamic, that ability to really play off one another while never overstepping. There were times when White would be taking a filthy guitar solo and Benson would weave his guitar around White's, creating a braid of notes that blended together in a blur that made it impossible to distinguish where one man started and the other stopped.
Backing White and Benson were the banging rhythm section of Jack Lawrence (bass, banjo, backup vocals) and drummer Patrick Keeler as well as touring stud Mark Watrous who added beautiful keyboards, percussion and stunning violin on the country-laced "Old Enough." Towards the end of their set they launched into a long, multi-part version of "Rich Kids Blues." About halfway through the song it began to devolve into a fuzzed-out, slow-burning instrumental jam that had me thinking we had walked into a new song. But before long, Jack brought it back to "Rich Kids Blues" and dumped it into a visceral "Steady As She Goes." During "Steady," they pulled the tempo way down, almost giving it a sped-up reggae vibe which found White with his back to the crowd, singing into a mic at the rear of the stage that sent his vocals through a heavily processed, totally watered-down psychedelic warp. Continuing to mix vast instrumental sections with fist-pumping choruses, they soon went into a mean version of "Broken Boy Soldier" with everything covered in filth. It was one highlight after the other, and the encore did not disappoint. Playing a three-song banger to close the night, it was the final song off their 2008 release Consolers of the Lonely which brought another facet of White's genius to the forefront. With his acoustic in hand, White walked us into "Carolina Drama" and proved himself to be one of the best storytellers in the game. Keeping every fan rapt to his every word, the band gave White's tale of families, priests, murder and milk emotion and context as they blew it out and closed the show, making a bid for one of the best live bands around.
Continue reading for more images of Treasure Island...
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