Once Gonerfest hits its first full day, as Gonerfest 20 did yesterday, pacing is everything. Is this not what the immortal Keith Richards taught us? (Keith’s other bit of advice? “Always insist on medical grade product…”). And one could not possibly see all the bands present. Yet, all pacing aside, there was a large turnout for the day’s opener, Memphis’ own Optic Sink. We took a deep dive into that group’s new album earlier this week. Now it was time to hear how it would translate to the stage.
A host of fans were curious, braving the blazing sun to see their 1:30 p.m. set. And while many lingered on the peripheries of Railgarten, clinging to the shade, just as many stood defiantly in the open area before the stage, just to see this one-of-a-kind band up close. And it was clear they were knocked out.
With Keith Cooper added on bass, the group has ramped up their stage energy considerably. Also contributing to this was Natalie Hoffmann’s increasing use of guitar in Optic Sink. And Ben Bauermeister’s increasingly imaginative drum programming ties it all together. As Hoffman alternately strummed or played synth, the rhythms marched on. And the crowd was primed for dancing, doing the Ratchet, the Twitch, and the Energizer Bunny as they baked in the sun.
Other bands kept them moving, and from that point on it was clearly “Aussie Day” at Gonerfest, with Vintage Crop, 1-800-Mikey, Tee Vee Repairmann, C.O.F.F.I.N., and Civic all hailing from Down Under. Many raved about 1-800-Mikey, but for my money Tee Vee Repairmann was the afternoon’s real shot in the arm. Both brought an intoxicating pop sensibility to their punkish underpinnings, but it was the latter band that has “hooks a mile wide,” as the Gonerfest program guide notes.
C.O.F.F.I.N. and Civic, meanwhile, demonstrated the heavier side of Down Under. I sat with friends as the former band played, parsing out their influences. “There’s clearly some AC/DC going on there,” said one. “Yeah, but I hear a bit of Southern Rock in their riffs,” said another. Both were right, as the band, sometimes verging on hardcore, steamrolled all over us. The raw power went to our heads, or was it Memphis Made’s special Golden Pass Gonerfest brew?
The day was not without its hiccups. After a captivating start, local post-punk heroes Ibex Clone were only able to play six songs or so, after which singer Alec McIntire was heard telling the band his voice was shot. Furthermore, the Skull Practitioners were delayed in even getting to town, hailing as they do from that land of sudden flooding, New York City. This left a hole in the afternoon lineup, gamely taken up by the New Memphis Legs, featuring Goner’s own Eric Friedl. Though they were more of a presence a decade ago, it clearly came back to them like riding a bike — a very noisy one.
By the time Sweeping Promises appeared, after much buzz and anticipation, the crowd was pressed up to the stage, and their sparse, dynamic drive with hints of angular melody and otherworldly vocals from singer Lira Mondal drove everyone mad. With one of the most identifiable sounds in in recent memory, echoing the odd niche that Lene Lovich occupied many decades ago, they were also incredibly propulsive after extensive touring recently. Caufield Schnug’s guitar lines were thin and reedy, a perfect complement to Mondal’s overdriven bass. A power trio, yes, but not in the conventional sense.
For a power trio with an emphasis on power, one needed look no further than the delayed set by Skull Practitioners. With current Dream Syndicate guitarist Jason Victor backed by only bass and drums, they managed to conjure up the biggest sound of the night, specializing in heavy rock with some tasty feedback-swathed soloing from Victory. Between songs, Victor was so amiable that you could have introduced him to your mother, expressing gratitude that their delayed flight had not squelched their Gonerfest dreams, but only deferred them to a later, shorter slot before the evening’s headliner.
That, of course, was The Gories. As emcee Dane Perugini said in his introduction, “If you don’t know who they are, what the fuck are you doing here?” As the group took the stage, Mick Collins, Danny Kroha, and Peg O’Neil were not as jittery as they were when they first played the Antenna Club over 30 years ago, with reunion shows making consummate professionals out of these erstwhile garage-dwelling guttersnipes, but the same energy was there once they launched into “Going to the River.” The two guitars over O’Neil’s soulful thumping hit the crowd like a cool breeze. The sonic palette of the group was far more minimalist and blues-based than many of the heavier rock bands of the day, but the interplay between the three was so perfect as to galvanize the audience. The lust-fueled “Queenie,” with its manic, screamed chorus, was a highlight.
“It’s been 13 years since we played Gonerfest,” quipped Kroha, expressing the band’s love of Memphis, instilled when they came down in the spring of 1990 to work with producer Alex Chilton. But they made it clear that they were proud Detroiters, and saluted the Keggs, a much-loved ’60s group “from the wild suburbs of Detroit,” as Kroha put it. “We’ve got a nice little Detroit contingent down here,” he went on. “Toledo is also represented — the Great Lakes states!”
Meanwhile, Collins was fiddling with his guitar, which he clawed at through the night like a feral cat. “Man, this thing is still in tune,” he exclaimed. “Incredible! For us it is…”
Decadent bourgeois concepts like tuning mattered little as the band launched into one classic after another, and not only their own classics. They made covers of Bo Diddley, John Lee Hooker, and the Keggs their own, combining the looseness of the blues with the attack of a Motor City V8 engine. Kroha even rocked a mean blues harp for one number. But it was their cover of Suicide’s “Ghostrider” that brought the house down, as Collins screamed “America, America is killing its youth!” to the wildly gyrating crowd. It culminated in one of the greatest feedback-drenched guitar solos ever heard on a Gonerfest stage. The amp and guitar seemed glued to Collins’ hands as if he was being electrocuted, while the gear at his command howled in protest. And then, all too soon, it was over. The midnight hour approached, the day was done, and as The Gories surveyed the battlefield, the audience before them scattered and slain under the harvest moon.
