The FYF Fest returned to the dusty strip of land that is LA Historic State Park for a day full of rock, dust, and unpleasant odors. Last year’s festival was widely whined about for its stunning lack of food, shade, and creature comforts, so much so that promoters Altamont moved the event to a closed off section of streets nearby. A month before the show, they decided to enlist the help of big-event experts Goldenvoice and keep FYF Fest at the park just north of Chinatown.
It’s hard not to think of the FYF Fest as an indie step-brother to the Goldenvoice-produced Coachella, a festival that succeeds despite being held in the desert, however, Coachella has a couple things that FYF just can’t seem to get right: parking and grass. When the people directing traffic around the event can’t even tell you where you aught to park, that’s a pretty big problem. Laying down wood chips to control the dirt from kicking up sounded like a good idea, except that the wood chips smelled like manure and were useless in the face of the swirling mosh pits which churned up clouds of choking dust.
The music was often great, though.
Punk vet Keith Morris led his new group OFF! through blasts of energy between stories of running wild in the streets adjacent to the park. The defiant charges felt a little out of place on a bright sunny day, but their vitriol was sufficient to render any corny sunshine-love a dust covered blob.
Across the park, past the 30-person line to fill water bottles at the drinking fountain, was Cults. Their bouncy, chirpy pop was pleasant without being saccharine. Kind of a Yeah Yeah Yeah’s vibe.
The Strange Boys had a jam band vibe, but with big blast of blues, and a wonderful lack of actual jamming.
No Age blew out a huge sound. So much noise for two people, twisting and writhing in the wind. An intense set. Pretty while it pounded. And to paraphrase a Dead Milkmen song: You people will slam-dance to anything.
Broken Social Scene played their tender anthems, and a Modest Mouse cover. They’re a band that sounded ripe for a hit song in a rom-com. Their set got a visual boost from the sun running down behind the Dodger Stadium parking lot. Lots of hugging and swaying.
Descendents sounded as poppy and spry as ever, but man did they just drip with that late middle-age look. Grey with slight paunch and a sort of sense of parental responsibility. And bringing out little kids to recite the sacred “All-o-Gistics” only exacerbated those effects. Bill Stevenson is still one of the tightest drummers going.
Heard some rhino roars from the Death From Above 1979 stage, but nostalgia led us to The Dead Milkmen. They sounded angrier than we remember and kinda sloppy. Should’ve explored new music instead.
