Day 1:
Nursing a beer on the sidewalk on the first day of Capitol Hill Block Party in Seattle, a friend and I watched death metal band Theories through the open backstage door at Neumos. What are they so angry about this early in the day? I joked. Most metal, he suggested, is about being angry with the earth. Its existence? The fact that humans have to live on it? All of the above, probably. We finished our drinks, but stayed to watch the set, hooked on the throbbing, grinding wail from the guitar and the singer’s guttural screams pouring off the stage and out onto the street.
Next we headed to the Cha Cha Lounge, a basement bar and stage bathed exclusively in red light, to catch Steal Shit Do Drugs. Listen to SSDD with your eyes closed and you might imagine yourself in sitting on a ragged old couch in a friend’s garage, waiting for band practice to be over. I mean that in the best way — they are a low maintenance, accessible band, with a washed out ’80s punk vibe that’s both catchy and charming. They were clearly having fun performing their music, so the audience had fun watching their set.
The crowds began to thicken as Jamie xx took the Main Stage. His electronic remixes are reminiscent of Girl Talk, but my friend and I agree that Jamie xx is better: he’s got more finesse, more elegance in his arrangements, and as the bass pumped around us, we expected the crowd to melt into a mass of jiggling butts and waving arms. Almost everyone clutched at their beers though, snapping selfies and carrying on regular conversation, as if we were assembled at a high school reunion or a backyard BBQ that also just happened to feature some live music in the background.
One last thing: earlier in the day while running to catch Acid Tongue, I got distracted by Shabazz Palaces. I hung back on the sidewalk behind the semi-large crowd that amassed around the Main Stage, getting wrapped up in the groovy electronic drum beats. Time, it seemed, had slowed down as I listened to this dreamy experimental hip-hop — which feels appropriate coming from Ishmael Butler, a former member of the classic hip-hop group Digable Planets. The urge to jam out to Shabazz is almost involuntary: your shoulders start bobbing to the rhythm, you’re rocking back and forth, and suddenly it’s 6:00pm and you missed the band you meant to see. Oh well — it was worth it. Toward the end of the set Butler playfully prods the crowd, asking “We can’t get no love at home?” The sentiment is met with tepid applause, from an audience perhaps too young to appreciate the triumphant return of this essential Seattle musician. So I picked up everyone’s slack and cheered and showed him that, yes, someone out there knew exactly what the moment meant.
Day 2:
No one should be particularly surprised that Seattle still produces most of the West Coast’s teenage angst. Girlpool is proof enough of this: this drummer-less punk outfit consists of two girls (Harmony and Cleo), sparse, simple chords, and the earnestness of youth that produces music that is at once deeply felt, catchy, and raw. The lyric “Mom do I tell you that I love you enough?” doesn’t sound very punk, but these two girls pull it off: there’s anger there, in the anxious vocals, as though what we’re witnessing is not just music but the opening of old wounds.
If you’re looking for rock in the more traditional sense, look to Meatbodies, who offer several different genres simultaneously. Faces adorned in colorful makeup reminiscent of a more glamorous KISS, red fishnet tights, capes, and (in the case of one of the guitarists) a gold glittery jump suit, Meatbodies oscillated between heavy, throbbing rifts reminiscent of heavy metal and raucous, energetic tones of a punk, all while sporting the dazzle and charm of an ’80s hair metal band. That their genre is difficult to pin down makes them an even more exciting act: these unpredictable, enthralling performers inspired a safety-conscious mosh pit that even a security guard briefly entered (at first to break-up a couple of overly enthusiastic participants, but then he decided to stick around), and, when the set was (sadly) finished, the chant “MORE MEAT!”
To come down from my Meatbodies-induced buzz, I headed down to Cha Cha Lounge. First up was Heiress, who droned along hypnotically as I sipped my drink, to the point where I felt more relaxed than I realized was possible while listening to metal. Lost in the pleasant ambiance of what I later discovered is described as “post-metal shoegaze,” I decided to regain some of my energy at Brothers From Another (BFA), a local hip-hop trio. This bouncy, youthful group is the epitome of the term “positive vibes.” They rap about day trips to the beach and trying to get girls to go out on dates, and there ends up being something like a communion at a BFA show: they’re just the guys next door, and in another life our friends, not just our entertainment.
But the best show of the night was Lesbian, touting thrashing death metal that turned me deaf to any other sound except the boom from their bass. They call themselves “psychedelic metal,” and under the red and orange lights of the Cha Cha Lounge, I found myself going into a trance. It’s muddy, it’s dark, it weighs down the room like a shadow, and sure, maybe that describes any other metal band you might run into, but nonetheless, Lesbian transported me to a world of pure sound, where all you can hear is a screaming voice and a groaning guitar, and that’s all you need.
Day 3:
Seeing Kathleen Hanna’s new band, the Julie Ruin, as the rain poured down over Capitol Hill was a special experience. The high pitched screech of her voice, her goofy dance moves, the fact that she kept flashing the audience her underwear as she pulled up her tights: she’s a charm bomb that exploded all over Seattle. Go see this band perform live if you have the chance: it’s an act brimming with nostalgia, but a mature one too. Perhaps not as wild and reckless as I would have wished, the Julie Ruin does showcase Hanna’s ability to retain her punk sensibilities while adapting to the gentler tones of modern rock music.
The day continued in the same vein with the all girl rock band Chastity Belt. Their attitude is brazen and carefree, even a little arrogant, and why shouldn’t it be? “This song is called Cool Slut and it’s about being a big slut,” the vocalist Julia Shapiro informs the audience, and we break out into a riot of cheers. “So what, we like to fuck,” she yells proudly into the microphone. Thank God for these women, who are must-see performers not just because they are fearless female rockers but because their nonchalance on stage — combined with their undeniable musical talent — equals an electric coolness that is unmissable.
Coming off a strong female empowerment vibe, I headed to Barboza to see DIIV, dreamy indie rock with a washed out sound that reminds me of jeans that have been bleached too many times. The simple chords produce sweet and to-the-point melodies that make me want to dance with my crush; there’s just an aura of romance to DIIV’s music that make them easy listening, and sure to be enjoyed if you have the chance to catch them live. Oh and their take on Seattle? “It’s less poisonous than New York.” Agreed.
At the end of the night, I rounded up my friends and we found a spot on the sidewalk to dance to Ratatat. The streets were filled with people, the night sky was blue and tinged with orange and gold from the strobing lights. This is electronic music at it’s best: the easily danceable beats sweep you up like a strong wave you can ride all night, making a blissful end to the Block Party.
Article by Elisabeth Sherman.
