The absence of Silverlake’s annual Sunset Junction Music Fest this year was tangible this past weekend in Eagle Rock, for its rendition of community music festival. A glut of people from surrounding neighborhoods crammed into a blocked off section of Colorado Boulevard as unrelenting summer temperatures were still taunting Angelenos citywide. Even as time passed and the sun vanished, the air remained suffused with that sinus drying Santa Ana wind we all forget about (then, consequently complain about for an additional week or two) as we anticipate the onset of October, or fall, or whatever this maddeningly schizophrenic weather wants to brand itself.

The heat and restricted personal space, however, was no match for the allure that is a free, genuine concert experience. As I tried to maintain the air of an innocuous hipster/music journalist, meticulously taking mental notes of the theatrics swirling about, I came to the realization my presence was as integral to these events as everyone else’s. We all have our roles to play at these things: the embodiment of teenage freedom, fluttering away from the parental nest in a maxi skirt and combat boots; the euphoric parents, emerging from a heap of dirty diapers to do something–anything; or me, simply needing to review a grungetronica band out of interest.

Wine consumption began early on, pretty much the moment I passed Colorado Wines. What a boon to Eagle Rock’s economy this music festival would end up being. Sure, it was free, but the money the city accrued from sales tax or other business taxes will either plug some debt or fund some gallant social works project. As I sat in a gloriously air conditioned Colorado Wines waiting for the sweat percolating down my back to dry and sucking down a glass of Pinot Grigio, I plotted my course for ERMF13. This initial beverage would prove useful as I tried to navigate my way through the crowd, sorting out the pros and cons of my experience along the way.

Con #1: People really hate smokers.

While snaking my way through the street I suffered from the guilt complex that arises while smoking cigarettes, especially since there are teenagers, children, new humans, and the elderly within cigarette flicking distance. All those years of PSA’s bemoaning the hazards of second-hand smoke are entrenched in my psyche, thus making one of the music festivals’ simplest pleasures dirty look elicitor number one. As dutifully as I tried to isolate myself from others, my habit was still within shooting range of these silent arrows of rebuke.

Con #2: Too many teenagers.

I get it. I was a teenager once. I had even been to some major music festivals as a teen. It was a thrilling experience then, so I can’t discredit teenagers now who shed whatever Disney icon they’re glazed in from birth for something meaningful or less mainstream. Despite this, my current age gives me the authority to declare show teenagers annoying. They just are.

While discreetly ashing a cig and catching some of All Spots To Black, a local moody ‘n mellow band, I witnessed something synchronously poetic and disheartening—two teenage boys and a teenage girl flipping through an LA Weekly, happening upon a Mr. Brainwash exhibition advertisement, and then collectively squealing with delight. “Funny,” I thought to myself as a stack of DUM DUM zines hung out in my canvas tote bag. “Mr. Brainwash has ripped off so many artists and garnered not only profits, but popularity in doing so—he is the penultimate dum dum of the post-modern age.” I toyed with the idea of handing them a zine and some candy, but as soon as I emerged from my thoughts and cigarette butt squashing, alas! The teens had scampered off.

Con #3: The Jaded.

You can add my lot to this category. We’re an omnipresent species at the festival, complaining about how we’ve seen band “xyz” too many times and question why we’re doing it again. You can eavesdrop on our conversations debating whether or not this one artist is going to “blow up” soon and when they do, we wonder with subtle facial expressions signaling disgust, if we’ll ever want to see a live performance by them again. The verdict on these topics of discussion is usually “maybe,” hinging on the level of popularity met by said artist (read: if the bros know, then hell no.) Existential crises pop up like burning bushes on a plain and multiply quickly.

Pro #1: Hearing Something New.

I was really anticipating HEALTH. I’d never heard the music performed and was wondering how they were going mimic, or get close to replicating, their recorded sound. Once these guys got started, with some percussion hearkening back to some primordial human era, they then launched into a cacophony of guitar, head banging, and hair swirling magic. One of the guitarists has an incredible mane of long brown hair that obscured his face the entire time he played, even as he swished it around and around a la grunge rockers of the early ‘90s. I began to fear I made a fatal error, because this was not what I was expecting and I had already mentally hyped up HEALTH.

Fortunately, my worries were allayed. Once the first few measures of “USA Boys” tore into the evening, the crowd dissolved into a mosh pit, probably instigated by the hair action. HEALTH strikes a perfect balance of electronic loops, guitar noise, and body moving percussion. Factor in the lead singer’s seraphim vocals that seem to hover above all the ruckus going on below, HEALTH’s music facilitates an atmosphere where inhibitions and bodily safety are set aside in exchange for an out-of-body experience.

Pro #2: Hearing Something Old.

During the Allah Las performance, a friend leaned over to me and said, “These guys really hit the nail on the head with this ‘60s California surf rock vibe.” I’ve been struggling with the idea of retro mania, posited by Simon Reynolds and others, and the notion that we can’t produce art or music that is avant-garde, or generation defining because we’re preoccupied with the past. Even though the Allah Las sound like a band that worm holed its way from the Southern California beaches and canyons of 1962 to the present, bringing with them the sweetness of nostalgia, they’re still making great music and should be recognized for it. I have a sneaking suspicion the Allah Las will gain clout, so I’m relieved to have seen a few of their performances, including this one before they cross over.

Pro #3: Giving musicians a stage.

Despite my complaints about community music festivals, I do acknowledge their importance in giving musicians an opportunity they otherwise wouldn’t get. Among the plentitude of indie acts at ERMF, you could also find a Neil Diamond cover band, the Creole-inspired Bonne Misique Zydeco, and The Ukulele Orchestra of the Western Hemisphere (which is exactly what you’d expect from a band of that name). There is usually something for everyone at this type of thing, but it’s possible you’ll surprise yourself when you find “Heart of Gold” is all you needed to hear or a ukulele orchestra performance is beyond satisfying. There aren’t any subtexts you have to grasp or novelty to digest.

All photographs by Dominoe Farris Gilbert.

Monday, October 3, 2011