WET are hot people playing hot music. Their aesthetic is neat and navy blue. They have a production style so incredible it makes me miss people I’ll never know.
So Pitted is a Wayne Coyne Ambien nightmare. They look like they want to fight the audience. This is full-contact, hostile garage rock.
I descend into Cha Cha after a victory margarita for Charms, who sound surprisingly melodic considering the sheer volume at which they perform.
When the rain hits, I find shelter in Neumos for Portland’s Summer Cannibals. They are the greatest musical discovery I make this year. The show is packed and it has nothing to do with the weather. Every woman in the crowd looks like Bettie Page. [Note: I just took a break from writing to purchase their album and a t-shirt from their online store. Immediately do the same or you’re a poser.]
The Julie Ruin is perfect because Kathleen Hanna is a fucking legend. It has been raining so hard that everyone has pneumonia so nobody gives a shit about being cold. We’re all dying after this.
Lower Dens starts late because of the rain but get to work quickly. Everyone dances like they’re in The Breakfast Club.
I slink back into Neumos, admittedly to dry off and watch Porter Ray. Who here knew about Porter Ray before Sunday and failed to mention Sub Pop signed a permanently young Drake? I’m less disappointed and more hypnotized by how much of his artistry was lifted from Drizzy. I make a mental note to revisit Thank Me Later when I get home.
As I leave Neumos the rain finally subsides as the mainstage DJ starts up Future’s “Fucked Up Some Commas,” which I do not see as a coincidence.
During Chastity Belt, I realize that Julia Shapiro is the most important rock star in Seattle. Protect Julia Shapiro at all costs.
Father John Misty is arguably the most consistent performer of his generation. His showmanship borders on ironic without negating the power of every gyration and his stage banter is unparallelled. He has a bright demeanor when he performs anything from I Love You, Honeybear. “In love” looks good on him. The clouds part and everyone starts making out.
Shannon & The Clams look like the cast of a cult classic film that was never made and it makes their take on 60s pop-influenced surf rock even better. The thinnest moustache in the world resides on the face of their guitarist. Shannon sounds great but should be turned way up.
Just before Ratatat starts I realize everyone in the vicinity is about to have the hardest flashbacks to their freshman year dorm rooms and I leave several songs in because everyone is high and about to start crying.
I start to think about next year as I exit and ‘The Really Big One’ and how many good times were had.
- Third Opinion: AJ on CHBP Day 3
- Capitol Hill Block Party 2015: Day 3 Recap
- Second Opinion: Cameron on CHBP Day 2
- Capitol Hill Block Party 2015: Day 2 Recap
- Second Opinion: Cameron on CHBP Day 1
- Capitol Hill Block Party 2015: Day 1 Recap