A crowd of around 100 mostly young women (teens to early 20s) huddled around the edge of Slowdown’s stage last night and sang along to most of Odie Leigh’s songs. It’s easy to understand why – her lyrics are easy to remember, to memorize while listening driving in your car or sitting in your bedroom or wherever else you’re alone. The words are smart and clever and personal, sometimes sexy, more often filled with melancholy and longing – just the right combination for an audience that’s either going through whatever Leigh was singing about, or remembers what it was like.
Leigh’s music, especially the quiet acoustic songs from her early days (just a few years ago), are semi-healed wounds of memories of past loves, recollections of things that happened (or didn’t happen), and the pain of moving on to whatever comes next.
She opened the evening with upbeat folk rockers from her new album (“My Name on a T-Shirt,” “No Doubt”) that did a good job of showcasing her band. Then Leigh set down her electric guitar and picked up her acoustic for a rendition of waltz-timed “A Month or Two” — one of her early singles about trying to forget something or someone, which ends with the reframe “Give it some time, time, time, time, time, time.”
It perfectly segued into a trio of heart-stoppers – two old ones about heartbreak and betrayal (“Nine Lives,” “Double Shift”), balanced by a new one about longing – “Either Way.” Some songs on her new album, Carrier Pigeon, feel like heartfelt antidotes to the past, testimonies (to the ones that got away) that things are better now, or will be, probably.
Leigh’s songwriting recalls some of my favorite confessional songwriters from the ‘90s — Jonatha Brooke of The Story, Ray and Saliers, Shawn Colvin, Victoria Williams — who themselves were like the progeny of Joni Mitchell. Leigh carries on that tradition.
Realizing she had an eager choir in front of her, Leigh not only encouraged singing along, but also provided directions. Before launching into a song that she’s yet to record, she gave the audience a primer on its chorus. She did this again for the night’s encore, “Take Back,” which resulted in the entire room loudly singing the reframe – an apt ending to great evening.
I only caught the last three songs by opener Valley James, and wish I would have caught her whole set. Playing solo with an acoustic guitar, James had one of the purest voices I’ve heard on Slowdown’s stage, sounding like (as one fellow audience member told me) a young Neko Case. You’ll be seeing and hearing more from her…
I admit I wasn’t that aware of Cincinnati band WHY? before last night’s show at Slowdown was announced a few months ago. WHY?’s publicist had reached out asking for coverage and I offered a Ten Questions survey, which frontman Yoni Wolf masterfully filled out. For the write-up, I listened to WHY? for the first time.
Their bio, including their Wiki page, suggested WHY? was a hip-hop project, but there was very little rapping on recent release, The Well I Fell Into, the band’s eighth studio album, produced by Brian Joseph (who has worked in the past with Sufjan Stevens and Bon Iver). The record vacillates between dour heartbreak songs and more upbeat keyboard-driven bouncers, and rewards repeated listens.
Playing as a four-piece, WHY? gave new life to the album last night, providing a more lively interpretation. Wolf’s nasal vocals had a similar hang-dog style as Silver Jew’s Dave Berman or Magnetic Fields’ Stephin Merritt (and when combined with guitarist Mol Sullivan’s harmonies, even recalled Timbuk 3’s acoustic moments). The band, filled out by Josiah Wolf on drums and Doug McDiarmid on keyboards and bass, fell into a solid, relaxed groove.
After about an hour, WHY? left the stage but returned for a three-song encore performed standing in front of a single microphone, where Yoni finally got a chance to strut his rhyming skills, performing “Early Whitney” off 2003’s Oaklandazulasylum, “Fatalist Palmistry” from 2008’s Alopecia and “Paper Hearts,” off 2012’s Mumps, Etc., while a hand-clapping crowd of around 75 looked on with glee.
Opener, Chicago’s NNAMDÏ performed solo backed by his laptop, singing with an auto-tune pedal Travis Scott-style. A handful of his fans stood in front of the stage and sang along to every word. The set ascended to the next level when he busted out an electric guitar and riffed over the tracks.
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It’s a trip back to ’78 tonight at The Admiral Theater as Descendents headline with support from Buzzcocks. Descendents’ current line-up is Bill Stevenson, drums, Karl Alvarez, bass; Stephen Egerton, guitar, and Milo Aukerman, vocals. While Steve Diggle is the only remaining original member of Buzzcocks playing tonight. Bay-area punk band Grumpster kicks things off at 7:30 p.m. $37-$75.
Indian Caves achieved its highest level of dreaminess about halfway through their set Friday night at Slowdown. The fourpiece, fronted by singer/songwriter Leslie Wells, play an alt-rock-verging-on-prog style reminiscent of ‘90s bands like Smashing Pumpkins with Wells at times sounding like a midwestern version of Billy Corgan.
The rhythm section really drove their live sound, with bassist Dan Krueger taking the lead, or maybe it was just the initial mix hiding the guitars behind bass and drums. Things leveled out later in the set.
The band closed out the evening in front of a crowd of around 50 with a cover of Talk Talk’s “It’s My Life” that, again, had me wondering if it was a Smashing Pumpkins cover. Oh, to hear them try “Bullet with Butterfly Wing.”
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Tonight at The Waiting Room it’s the return of M. Ward, which has me wondering what M. Ward has been up to lately.
His last studio album was Supernatural Thing (2023, Anti-), which featured guest appearances by a plethora of indie notables including Neko Case, First Aid Kit, Jim James and Shovels & Rope (who themselves will be playing The Waiting Room this Friday night).
Merge Records earlier this month also issued For Beginners: The Best of M. Ward, and no doubt tonight’s performance will feature a collection of Ward’s “best,” such as “Chinese Translation” and “Never Had Nobody Like You.”
Opening for Ward tonight is singer/songwriter Leslie Stevens, whose recent video for single “Blue Roses” featured Hollywood veteran Jon Hamm as a gristled, cowboy-hat-wearing cooze hound. Stevens will also join Ward on a few songs during his set. $35, 8 p.m.
A small but attentive crowd intensely listened to songs and stories from wandering troubadour/author David Dondero at Ming Toy Gallery last night.
Sitting in the center of the gallery with guitar and microphone he performed tunes from his latest album, 2023’s Immersion Therapy, before diving into a reading from his novel Chaos the Cat. The night’s emcee and Q&A leader, Rob Walters, joined in the reading along with a volunteer from the crowd, backed scene-setting recording of Dondero playing acoustic guitar.
Dondero, who has been cited by a number of artists (including Bright Eyes’ Conor Oberst) as a musical influence, talked about his life traveling around the country both performing music and working in odd jobs. The novel, which chronicles the people surrounding a pot-growing operation in California, is no doubt semi-autobiographical, as is most of Dondero’s songs.
The night concluded with a rendition of his song “Bacon, Eggs and Beer,” from his 2017 album Inside the Cat’s Eye – which tied directly to the novel, forming a perfect circle of sorts. A fun night indeed.
While a lot people RSVP-ed for the performance on Facebook, the turnout was disappointing, possibly because there were no pre-show ticket sales (despite a number of requests). Buying a ticket can be a sort of commitment – without one, it’s easier for potential patrons to instead stay home on their Wednesday night and finish their TV shows or YouTube videos or whatever they do to unwind. Dondero said he might return to Ming Toy for a more music-driven show, and if it happens, we’ll figure out a way to sell pre-show tickets…
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Yesterday afternoon, Bright Eyes posted on social media that the band has cancelled three upcoming record-release shows, including an appearance at Riotfest Saturday and Sunday’s show at Steelhouse Omaha.
“The warm up shows we played earlier this week resulted in Conor losing his voice and, on the advice of doctors, we’ve made the difficult but sensible decision to prioritize rest and recuperation for the remainder of the month,” the post read. It went onto say they’re working to reschedule the dates.
Youtube videos shot at the warmup shows in Cleveland and Chicago featured a froggy, groggy-looking Oberst. Hopefully he’ll find a cure for what ails him because Bright Eyes has a very busy six months ahead. The band has three dates scheduled for mid-October as well as a 9-date European tour in mid-November followed by West Coast dates in January. That leads into an enormous 34-date U.S. theater tour that kicks off Feb. 26 in Fayetteville.
The band’s new album, Five Dice, All Threes, comes out tomorrow on Dead Oceans.
Professional musicians play music for a whole variety of reasons – whether it’s for the love of song, to meet chicks (or dudes) or to try to make a living (the true dreamers!).
And some do it for the sheer joy of sharing a moment with their family, friends and fellow musicians.
Midwest Dilemma falls into that last category. Frontman/singer/songwriter Justin Lamoureux always has surrounded himself with friends when performing on stage, all the way back to the very early days of his career 20 or so years ago. That again was the case Friday night when his band played an album release show at The Benson Theatre. There, center stage, was Justin, surrounded by 10 fellow musicians, all having the time of their lives.
Instrumentation varied from cello to flute to tuba to stringed things I didn’t recognize. Musicians either intensely focused on their sheet music or danced alongside Lamoureux as he played songs from his new album, whose style ranges from upbeat indie rock to baroque shanty tunes to folk in its purest form, all seemingly powered by their glowing smiles. While below, seated or dancing, an adoring capacity crowd shared in the joy of the moment. It wasn’t so much a rock concert as a community gathering of friends, family and fans, brought together to celebrate Lamoureux’s music.
Sharing in the evening were openers Kyle Harvey and Brad Hoshaw. Kyle brought his classic moody acoustic folk that highlights simple song structures and his brilliant voice for a collection of mid-tempo heartbreakers accentuated by his own funny between-song storytelling.
Like Harvey, Hoshaw used the show to unveil a number of new songs that, while in keeping with his knack for creating hook-filled melodies, stretched their stories beyond the usual whiskey-soaked elegies that characterize his early songwriting. The former Omahan has found new life in Nashville, no doubt to the lament of an army of Benson barkeeps.
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To my surprise, they moved this year’s Little Bo Backyard Bash from last year’s location in the parking lot and green space east of 13th Street to a blocked-off William Street west of 13th stretching to 14th. I preferred last year’s location to the rather tight confines of the caged-in street. Tents and picnic benches were crammed between the curbs overlooked by abandoned buildings, with the Omaha Mobile Stage parked on one end.
Not to be outdone by Midwest Dilemma, Head of Femur boasted seven musicians for their set, all crushed inside the tiny converted shipping container. Maybe it was the great weather or the mixed drinks or the overall camaraderie from the middle-aged hipster crowd (and their children) but it was one of the most enjoyable sets I’ve heard from Matt Focht and Company. A standout was the amazing violin that added soaring solos that lifted the entire set. Hey, who needs a lead electric guitar when you’ve got that in your arsonal? No doubt we’ll be seeing more of Femur as Focht said from stage that the band will soon be getting a retrospective box set released by a very reputable indie label, who also will be releasing new material.
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Finally, last night someone on the Friends of the Drumstick Lincoln, NE Facebook page posted that singer/songwriter Charlie Burton passed away yesterday morning.
I only knew Burton from having seen him perform at the Howard Street Tavern in the ‘90s and having interviewed him after he had moved to Austin. Though far from over, Burton reflected on his career in that interview, conducted in 1998, summing it up in this story about a run-in with a record exec following an appearance at the annual South By Southwest Festival in Austin.
From the article:
Burton sums up the festival with a story that is so good, he was afraid it would dominate the article. At first, he didn’t want to tell me, either because he doesn’t want to come off as glum or because he doesn’t want it to be a metaphor for his entire career.
“It was right after last year’s South by Southwest festival,” he said. “We played very well, and my friends from all over came to see me. It inflated my ego, stroked it, and then it was over. Suddenly it was Sunday and I had to go back to work at ABCD’s (an Austin CD store). As I opened up that morning, these lyrics just kept running through my mind — the line from P.F. Sloan’s “Eve of Destruction,” as sung by Barry McGuire: ‘You might leave for four days in space, but when you return it’s the same old place.’ It was like the day after Christmas, when you’ve opened all your presents and are already bored with them.
“So this guy walks in the store and asks for the Charlie Burton CD. ‘Do we have it?,’ I said, ‘as a matter of fact I am Charlie Burton!’ He says, ‘I saw your first 45 reviewed in Cream magazine in 1977. You sent me an autographed copy. I ordered more and gave them to all my friends. It’s still one of my favorites of all time.’
“He walks up with a copy of Rustic Fixer Upper and I offer to sign it for him. He gives me his card so I know who to write it to and the guy’s the vice president of A&R for Warner Bros. I said, ‘How come I have all these big fans in the record business and I’m starving out here?’ His response, basically was ‘You’re not 24 anymore, are you Charlie? And that’s what I’m looking for.'”
Burton sold him the CD and also sent a copy of the single “Spare me the Details,” (which will be on the One Man’s Trash compilation) along with a letter. “I realized that I had an opportunity to kiss the guy’s ass, but missed it. I haven’t even received so much as a ‘thank you.’
“I don’t know what those guys want anyway. Back when I was a kid, you either liked the Beatles or the Stones or both. Now the music buying public is so fractionalized, they want lounge or swing or urban… Yesterday’s gothic Trent Reznor kid is tomorrow’s rockabilly Dale Watson fan. The trends are run down their throats. They haven’t figured out they are being taken advantage of.”
Despite the angst, Burton knows that there’s no other kind of music he can — or wants — to play. “I still believe in myself, but the bottom line is that the industry wags know when they see a money-losing proposition. Maybe they’re right; maybe I never made it because I don’t deserve to.”
No, Charlie, they were wrong. And judging by the avalanche of loving rememberances pouring out over social media this morning, you definitely “made it.”
I began to lose touch with Tim Kasher and Cursive sometime after I Am Gemini came out in 2012 – a record I own on vinyl and have listened to only a few times and almost never all the way through – just a very difficult listen. Then came Vitriola in 2018 that included maybe my favorite Kasher-penned song of the past decade or so — the wholly ignored “Remorse,” that was never released as a single despite its jaw-dropping beauty. Then came Get Fixed in 2019, which I can’t remember having listened to (though I know I did).
Within that same timeframe, The Good Life (another Kasher-penned project) released Everybody’s Coming Down (in 2015) and Kasher released three solo outings – Adult Film (2013) (with the infectious single “A Raincloud is a Raincloud”; No Resolution (2017), and most recently, Middling Age (2022), with the delectable “I Don’t Think About You.”
Kasher also created a Patreon website, which I don’t subscribe to. He’s prolific, to say the least. But despite this, I’m not aware of any song from any of the above albums receiving airplay on Sirius XMU or any other national channel. Kasher has reached a point in his career where he can keep releasing albums year after year and his core fans will continue to buy them (or stream them) and show up when he rolls through town.
Conversely – or whatever – Conor Oberst and Bright Eyes, who shared the national limelight with Kasher/Cursive and The Faint in the 2000s, continues to be heard on Sirius XMU with or without Phoebe Bridgers singing on the track. Is it a matter of fame or quality that drives XMU programmers to choose one over the other? I cannot say.
So, to those Sirius XMU programmers – or maybe just Jenny Eliscu: Give Cursive’s latest album, Devourer, a chance, if only for the obvious pop songs, which I’ll get to in a minute.
Devourer, which comes out Sept. 13 on the band’s new label, Run for Cover Records, is a throwback of sorts to the kind of records the band made 20 or so years ago, circa Happy Hollow, The Ugly Organ and, yes, Domestica. The band, which has now ballooned to seven members, while every bit as pounding and “angular” as you remember, has never sounded more properly structured, which is a stupid way of saying the songs are more focused, more compact, more self-contained vs. the too-often meandering complications of the past couple decades.
That said, Devourer isn’t a “pop” album by any means. Cursive/Kasher albums are typically concept in nature, and this one is no exception. The core idea: Accept living with bitterness, dissolution and regret as you wallow in middle age, angry that all those wrong decisions you made along the way will now doom you to disappointment as your remaining years slip away.
Kasher is the king of self-revelatory navel-gazing, and whether he denies it or not, you have to believe the bitterness in these songs were born of personal experience. That, or he’s the king of make believe.
The album jumps out of the gate with a trio of hard-rocking bummers. “Botch Job” and “Up and Away” underscore a life wasted, whereas “The Avalanche of Our Demise” bemoans mankind’s perceived apathy toward impending catastrophe – whether from climate change or (from Kasher’s West Coast vantage point) an inevitable earthquake that drops California into the sea. “At the beginning of the end / Will you run and hide / Or sleep in?” It’s a message that may resonate more clearly with a Z Generation stuck with the task of fixing the rest of the alphabet’s mistakes… or suffering for them.
The follow-up track, “Imposturing,” acknowledges that Kasher (and you) might be getting tired of the complaints, but hey, it’s a living: “No one wants to listen to sins / Regurgitated on colored wax again / You played your best cards / When you were young and insolent.” I’m not so sure.
Sonically, those four are the hardest rocking of the batch thanks to Matt Maginn’s bass work, which drives this record. Kasher and Ted Stevens’ guitars are gritty and angular as you’ve come to expect, but for my money, it’s Patrick Newbery’s synths and Megan Siebe’s cello that put this album in Ugly Organ territory, adding sharp shards of color to Cursive’s dark-toned doom-swing.
Which brings us to those pop numbers I mentioned earlier.
“Dead End Days” is a hand-clapper, with Ted sharing vocals with Tim and Newbery providing a soaring synth glide-path. “Dark Star” swings with a funky synth line, a Clint Schnase-powered dance beat and Siebe’s sinewy cello, while Kasher imagines he’s the snake in the garden. That cello surprises throughout the album’s second half. On “What Do We Do Now” Newbery’s synth line combines with cello and his own trumpet to allow you to imagine Jon Brion playing within Cursive’s usual thunderous syncopation.
The only downside is Kasher’s dark-cloud downer message, which can get overwhelming especially when matched with an overdose of angst and frustration that bleeds into overkill on tracks like “What the Fuck” and “The Age of Impotence.” OK, you’re disappointed, we get it. Even when he’s trying to resolve it, like on album closer “The Loss,” he overshadows a line like “The nightmare is over” with the ender “Death is all it costs / What a brutal, devastating price.” Spoken like a fellow born-again atheist.
See the album performed live when Cursive plays at The Waiting Room Oct. 18 and 19.
In year’s past I compared Petfest – the annual bacchanal held in the parking lot behind the Petshop Gallery in Benson – to South By Southwest day parties, where Austin locals get together outside the “festival establishment” to drink Lone Stars and eat breakfast tacos while listening to great indie bands perform in parks and strip-bar back lots. Those Austin day parties typically eclipse the staid, programmed, corporate-sponsored, formal showcases SXSW is/was known for.
That comparison remains apt.
In the calendar of Omaha summer music festivals, Petfest is the one I look forward to most, not necessarily because of the music line-up — which is always first-rate — but because it’s easy. Petfest is a laid-back, end-of-summer gathering of local music aficionados, art freaks, neighbors and friends enjoying a perfect late-summer afternoon with the best local music the state has to offer.
This year’s Petfest was no exception. Maybe (or likely) the fine weather was the reason this year’s festival felt more lively than last-year’s 100-plus-degree endurance test. The festival footprint actually felt smaller, though if anything there was more space to spread out on the white-rock parking lot. Like last year, bands performed on two “stages” – an outdoor stage and a small stage set up in the Petshop garage – with bands alternating between the locations for their (scheduled) 20-minute sets. The sets’ brevity meant never getting tired of any one band, and in most cases, leaving the crowd wanting more.
That was the case with Vempire. It was the debut performance by the synth duo of Lindsey Yoneda and Thirst Things First frontman Mike Elfers, whose debut album, Your Steps, dropped last Friday on Bandcamp. The music’s stripped down dance vibe at times has the same manic energy I remembered from Thirst Things First, especially after the first three underpowered songs. The soundguy eventually made necessary adjustments, and by the end of the set, Vempire was pumping.
Sound was a challenge throughout the day, as the sound dude made the best of what he had to work work with, which was limited, but, hey, this is a neighborhood festival, not Outlandia.
Vempire was followed by another Lincoln band – the five-piece Saving Fiona. Their debut album What a Shame caught a lot of people’s attention when it was released this past June. And while the songcraft was still there, the band was woefully underpowered throughout its set, especially the three vocalists. But again, as the set went on, adjustments were made and the band was shining by the end.
That theme continued with The Dirts, an act that really needs (and deserves) a big sound system to float their dense, trippy, shoe-gaze rock. They definitely made the best of the situation, pulling a pro move when the lead guitarist broke a string and came back on stage with one of Size Queen’s guitars. This is the most promising new band I’ve seen in years.
Then came Heet Deth, a Chicago-based drum-and-guitar duo that blew up the garage stage with their edgy psych rock reminiscent of the heavy early days of Yeah Yeah Yeahs — a Petfest highlight.
I stepped out of the festival compound for a couple hours to get some grub and returned for PROBLEMS, the one-man electronic/dance/synth project by Darren Keen. Keen always knows how to bring the party, but Saturday night’s set really showcased how he’s grown in creating deep, thick beats and almost orchestral synth arrangements that get a crowd moving.
Darren was followed by the Flamboyant Gods, a punk act fronted by Icky Blossoms’ Dereck Pressnall that includes a number of local superstars who I don’t know (though I recognized CJ Olson from Saddle Creek Records on one of the guitars!). The frenetic, kick-ass set of hard, fast punk songs was like Pressnall’s Flowers Forever on speed. They’ve been around for years (check out their Youtube videos) but they rarely play out these days. I’d love to see a full set of this chaos.
Speaking of chaos, Flamboyant Gods were followed by the return of Dance Me Pregnant, a punk band whose origins date back to the heyday of O’Leaver’s rock shows, featuring many of the faces that made The Club famous more than a decade ago — Johnny Vredenburg on bass, Chris Machmuller on guitar, Corey Broman on drums and frontman Jeff Ankenbauer, who I barely recognized when he walked up and said hello prior to the gig.
DMP is more metal than punk but has a much groovier sound, thanks to rock riffs that go beyond typical metal structures. They swing but keep their punk edge thanks to Ankenbauer’s full-throated yell vocals and up-close-and-personal approach that brought him out of the garage and in the faces of the thrashing crowd. A great set.
And that was the end of my Petfest experience for 2024. It could very well have been the best Petfest ever, but I say that every year. Suggestions for next year? Maybe get a little better sound system, add some non-alcohol drinking options (other than water), add one more food truck, but don’t change much more. Petfest’s charm comes from its quaint size and neighborhood, good-time feel.
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Tonight at Slowdown, get ready for the sludge-metal of King Buzzo a.k.a. Roger “Buzz” Osborne of the Melvins. Opening is JD Pinkus of Butthole Surfers. Things could get loud. $35, 8 p.m.
Petfest, Omaha’s best live music festival for showcasing local indie talent, happens this Saturday in Benson. There’s a shit-ton of talent playing on two stages. You can arrive just about anytime between 2 p.m. and midnight and you won’t go wrong, but one band you may want to consider “appointment listening” is The Dirts at 5:15 on the outside stage.
The band opened last night for Toronto band PACKS at Slowdown’s front room and, like the past few times I’ve seen them, they played a heavy set of shoe-gaze-style indie rock influenced by the likes of Galaxy 500, Jesus and Mary Chain, The Cure, etc.
In fact, if the folks who run the Astro were daring sorts, they’d have The Dirts open for the upcoming Psychedelic Furs/Jesus and Mary Chain show Oct. 22. I mean, what would they have to lose, and certainly fans coming to see those two bands would dig what the Dirts are doing.
A brief synopsis from what little I know about them – The Dirts are a local five-piece consisting of four women (synth, drums, guitar, bass, vocals) along with a dude lead guitarist/vocalist who (I think) used to be in Garst. They divide the vocal duties between three members, and if there’s a flaw in the composite it’s that you can barely hear the two women when they sing (Someone once told me that was a common trait in early shoe-gaze, but I just find it frustrating because both have good voices).
They’re a young band and somewhat raw – I’m not aware they’ve recorded anything, at least I can’t find any of their music online — but they’ve got whatever it is that makes good shoe-gaze fun to listen to – great hooks, good guitar riffs, very dense arrangements. Definitely worth checking out if you’re going to Petfest tomorrow.
The band’s rawness was in stark contrast to last night’s headliner – PACKS – who were a well-honed four-piece indie rock machine. I had no problem hearing frontwoman Madeline Link sing throughout the set, though I had a difficult time understanding what she was singing. Her slurred, unenunciated vocal style made the lyrics indecipherable, which is a shame because she has something to say in her songs.
The only time you could understand what she was singing was briefly during one tune where Link reverted to spoken word over the riffage (very cool) and during the set’s finale, “HFCS,” which she introduced with “This is for everyone who loves corn and everyone who feels so-so about corn and those who don’t like corn.” HFCS sands for high fructose corn syrup, the song’s main chorus, which got sing-along treatment by the 20 or so folks in the crowd.
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So what other highlights can I recommend for Petfest? Like I said, it’s hard to go wrong at any point, so you’re best bet is to BE THERE FOR THE WHOLE DANG THING!
Here’s the deal, though – each band only plays 20-minute sets, so if you don’t like what you’re hearing, grab a beer and check your phone and before you know it, the next act will be on stage.
The performers alternate between an indoor (garage) and outdoor stage, starting with Western Haikus in the garage. Here’s the full schedule:
2 p.m. – Western Haikus 2:20 p.m. – McCarthy Trenching 2:40 p.m. – Ebba Rose 3 p.m. – Rike 3:20 p.m – Mike Sclesinger 3:40 p.m. Ol’ Mo and the Varmints 4 p.m. – Vempire 4:25 p.m. – Saving Fiona 4:50 p.m. – Queer Nite 5:15 p.m. – The Dirts 5:40 p.m. – Heet Deth 6:05 p.m. – Size Queen 6:25 p.m. – Ex-Lover 6:50 p.m. – Mesonjixx Trio 7:20 p.m. – Queer Nite 7:45 p.m. – PROBLEMS 8:10 p.m. – Flamboyant Gods 8:40 p.m. – Dance Me Pregnant 9:10 p.m. – Universe Contest 10 p.m. – Jeff in Leather 9:45 p.m. – Queer Nite 10:45 p.m. DJ Bumproump
Tickets are $40 day of show (or save $10 and buy a ticket for $30 today!). Food available from Terrible Gerald’s Pizza, and there will be plenty of booze. More info here. See you there.
And that’s all I got. If I missed your show, put it in the comments section. Have a great weekend.
Putting on a music festival is a giant gamble. Every decision is an educated guess that will either pay off in spades or aid in your demise.
It starts with the location, and in the Outlandia Music Festival’s case, that choice was the right one. Falconwood Park is a bucolic, pastoral paradise uniquely suited to host a multi-day music fest. You can read about Falconwood and its history right here.
But after that, it’s all a roll of the dice.
Will the lineup attract a large audience? Are the bands too obscure or have they played in the area too often?
Are the tickets correctly priced? How’s the economy? Do fans have available cash to make the buy? Is there a competing event that could lure away their dollars?
How about marketing? Where was the festival marketed and was enough spent to get the word out?
Every dollar is a gamble, from facility and production costs to personnel and security arrangements. Nothing is cheap.
And then, after all that, there’s Mother Nature, because scorching heat or soaking rain does not entice participation in an outdoor event.
If you make all the right decisions and the stars align, the only thing left is to execute the plan, and the Outlandia folks definitely know how to execute.
One of the biggest wild cards was weather, and Outlandia drew aces. The sky was partly cloudy and temps were in the 70s Saturday afternoon when I visited Falconwood Park. The main festival site felt like a small village. Concert-goes walked to the stage area with folding chairs while festival personnel zipped around the small paved paths in golf carts escorting guests from the parking area to the VIP section or the sponsor cabins.
In the back of the compound were the usual food trucks and beer stands as well as merch tents and other vendors scattered around the perimeter. Beyond the long row of port-a-johns, a triangle of dudes played frisbee in the open field. Everywhere tangled in the brown and green grass were scraps of colored paper – the remnants of the previous night’s Flaming Lips’ confetti cannons.
The festival suffered a bit of a set-back the previous day when J. Mascis announced he couldn’t play Saturday because of the death of close friend Dave Swetapple, bassist for Witch, Eerie and Sweet Apple, a band that includes Mascis. The schedule change pushed Buffalo Tom back to 5:30.
The trio of guitarist Bill Janovitz, bassist Chris Colbourn and drummer Tom Maginnis may have looked grayer than they did in the mid-‘90s when their best albums were released, but they didn’t sound any different. They ripped into a greatest hits set that included just about every song any Buffalo Tom fan would want to hear, played to tight perfection. The only thing missing were a couple songs the band had hoped to play with Mascis, who helped produce their first two albums.
I can’t comment on the lighting but the sound was pristine. Outlandia’s huge stage gave the band plenty of room to roam, though they rarely strayed from their fixed positions. About 75 or so stood by the stage while a couple hundred sat behind the “No Chair Zone” area 50 yards or so from the stage. Dozens more sat off of stage-right in the Outlandia VIP section.
Execution-wise, Outlandia appeared to be a home run. But what about the numbers?
Tyler Owen, one of festival’s organizers, said he heard they had around 5,000 in the park for the weekend, but doesn’t have the data yet or the plan for 2025. Owen said during our recent interview for Flatwater Free Press that this year’s Outlandia was “make or break.” I talked to another organizer who said that’s the case every year.
As Owen said, Outlandia has everything it needs to be as successful as Iowa’s Hinterland Music Festival. I searched in vain to find attendance numbers for 2024’s Hinterland, held last weekend, but instead only found article after article that reported complaints about how the enormous crowds put a strain on the festival’s resources, this despite humid temps in the mid-90s throughout the weekend. I’ve heard past festivals drew well over 15,000.
What I do know is that Hinterland quickly sold out their allotment of 3-day General Admission passes on the strength of their line-up, which included major indie artists Chappell Roan, Ethel Cain, The Last Dinner Party, Orville Peck, Blondshell, Vampire Weekend, Hozier, Mt. Joy and more – a line-up that must have cost a gazillion dollars to book.
If Outlandia had booked just the top three of the above list of artists, they might have doubled their attendance this year. But at what cost?
And at the end of the day, even with that star power, it’s all a gamble.
The above headline is like tossing a lit grenade in the room full of indie kids. I have no idea what Maha Music Festival’s current status is. The rumors are that Maha is over, done, won’t be back next year. I’m not so sure, though, and see no reason why it would end except that the Maha folks have yet to provide any updates on the festival’s status for 2025.
But if Maha is over, Grrrl Camp could easily slide in and take its place. In many ways, it reminded me of Maha – its lineup, the vendors/festival atmosphere, the laidback feel of the crowd, even the location, which brings me to Falconwood Park in Bellevue.
This was my first time inside the confines of the Falconwood compound, having skipped the last couple years of Outlandia, partially out of concerns about the facilities and access. Though it’s only a quick 25-minute drive via the Interstate, there’s always been a “do-I-really-want-to-drive-all-the-way-out-there?” sort of feel about it. All the photos I’d seen made it look like Falconwood is an empty field near the banks of the Platte River – muddy, mosquitos, parking in a grass field, etc.
Well, I’m here to tell you, Falconwood was worth the trip. They have a pretty amazing set-up. Getting there is easy via a two-lane county road off the interstate that takes you to a very narrow access road (easy, but I wonder how easy if, say, 8,000 people headed to the concert). Signage makes it hard to miss, though we did go in through the camping entrance by mistake. Parking was, indeed, in a grassy field near the campgrounds but was only a few yards from the concert area.
One of the first buildings you encounter is the facilities’ west lodge, a very cool structure with a stage, a full bar and probably a kitchen (though they weren’t serving food), with bathrooms and booths along one wall. I asked one of the organizers what would happen if there was a heavy rain during the concert, and she told me they’d take it into the lodge, but the structure’s capacity could be more than a few hundred.
Beyond that was the festival area, with more vendors than I’ve seen at any other local music festival. There must have been 100 vendor tents, most selling clothing, jewelry, art and tchotchkes (I saw one selling shoes!). Food trucks were set up along the back – maybe a half-dozen of the usual suspects (the El Churro Spot had the longest lines).
More vendor tents and picnic tables ran along the edges leading up to the stage area, and, just eye-balling it, I’d guess that the footprint for this section of Falconwood is smaller than Stinson Park at Aksarben Village (but this is just a fraction of Falconwood – more on that later).
Maybe it was the fantastic weather, maybe it was the bands, maybe it was the size of the crowd, but the whole thing felt very chill and fun. We got there on Saturday afternoon right before Girl Ray took the stage, found a spot about 30 yards from the stage, and dropped our folding chairs complete with a Modelo tallboy in hand (alas, I didn’t see any Rolling Rock in their coolers).
I’d guestimate the crowd was around 200 not including the army of vendors. Organizers say Grrrl Camp attracted 1,000 people over the course of the weekend (again, not including vendors), which is much less than your typical Maha festival. That said, for its second year (and first with national touring bands), it’s a good start.
Leeds, England, band Girl Ray played tunes off their latest LP, Prestige (2023, Moshi Moshi), which were fun, un-cheesy disco rock songs. I don’t think they play many U.S. festivals, and said they were surprised to get the call for Grrrl Camp. With the weird CrowdStrike outage impacting airports earlier, they had to take a series of overnight flights from LA to make it to the festival, but seemed happy they did.
This stage at Falconwood is a permanent structure and is really all they need for this portion of the park. The sound was fantastic, especially with this band. The young, fashionably hipster crowd happily bounced to the beat. Yeah, it was mostly women in the audience, but there were plenty of dudes, too. There also was a small army of people slinging SLR cameras taking photos everywhere – there must be a shit-ton of aspiring rock photographers in Omaha.
After a quick switch-out and some bumping DJ action, Nashville’s Annie DiRusso and her band were next. Their sound is more akin to modern indie rock, reminiscent of Blondshell and other artists who were clearly influenced by Liz Phair. She played most of the songs off her 2023 EP, God, I Hate This Place, as well as new songs from her upcoming debut full-length (which I think she said drops next month).
Their mix was much heavier and louder (in went my earplugs), which made things sound chunkier and less refined than her recordings. These folks apparently drove from Seattle to make this festival, which in itself was impressive.
In case you didn’t know, Charlie XCX’s new album, brat, has been deemed the album of summer 2024. DiRusso invented the term “NeBratska” in its honor, which she rolled out when introducing her band’s unique, rocked-out cover of “Apple” from that album – a highlight.
After DiRusso’s set, the fine folks at Falconwood gave me a quick tour of the entire facility (via golf cart), including where the upcoming Outlandia Festival will be held on the opposite side of the park. That concert space is immense, surrounded by old cabins that have been renovated for camping (or glamping). There is little doubt that Outlandia will be a completely different concert experience than Grrrl Camp (both are booked by 1% Productions) and more akin to the mammoth machine that was the Maha Music Festival.
The Outlandia Festival, by the way, is in just a few weeks – Aug. 9 and 10 – and will feature headliners The Flaming Lips, The Head and the Heart and The Revivalists, along with a fetching (and, in my opinion, more interesting) undercard that includes The Faint, Dinosaur Jr., Buffalo Tom (yes, that Buffalo Tom), Devotchka, Flipturn and more.
The story behind Falconwood is kind of inspiring and something I hope to pursue at a later date.
Hurray for the Riff Raff were on stage when we got back to the Grrrl Camp area. Their folk-tinged rock was the perfect compliment for a beautiful evening outdoors. No doubt the medical tent was kept busy doling out mosquito repellant (I certainly got my share).
We left before Indigo de Souza, whose music I love but who I’ve seen before. Because of our timing, getting out of Falconwood was simple, but like I said, I’m not so sure how it all works when you have a few thousand people leaving at once.
The moral of this rather long-winded review is to not be afraid of Falconwood Park. The facilities are awesome. The location – while nowhere near as convenient as Stinson Park – is easily accessible from Omaha (though the jury is still out regarding traffic during a big event), and holds far more potential than what Aksarben Village could provide.
Hopefully Grrrl Camp will return next year, building on the buzz generated this year. I was trepidatious about the name, but I get it now. As long as that name doesn’t hold back organizers from booking bands that don’t have at least one female member, I could see this festival growing to Maha proportions.
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