Block Party is beautiful. Every little thing about it is absolutely fantastic. From security yelling at people to get off the sidewalks, and into the streets, to the endless cacophony of music coming from every direction, it’s all wonderful.
The day started off with a short set by Fucked Up, broadcast by KEXP. There is a lot to be said about Fucked Up, but we’ll get there in a moment. For now, here’s a photo of me with Damian, the singer of the band. Yes, I asked him to take his shirt off for the photo.
Next up, was another KEXP set, this time by beloved Seattle band The Head and the Heart. I hadn’t listened to them up to this point, but I wasn’t going to miss them this time.
It has to be said that the band has an absolutely fanatic following. The Bean Room reached capacity about fifteen minutes before the set, and there were people milling around in anticipation two hours before they were scheduled to play. Are they worth the hype?
That depends on taste, but I definitely saw something intriguing in their short set. The band plays enjoyable acoustic music, and I saw enough to understand what the fuss is about. I’ll be watching The Head and the Heart more closely in the future.
Next, it was over to Neumo’s to stand in line for the bathrooms, and to see New York’s Cults. Cults sort of sound like twee pop filtered through Joy Division. The strobe lights hit, the band took the stage, and the sound of dark dance music filtered through the room.
Lead singer Madeline Follin came off something like a Gwen Stefani for the goth set, but the band had a sense of joy around it. A beach ball hit the stage at least a dozen times during the set, and the crowd seemed extremely happy to be there. The music had plenty of fantastic distortion, and people danced like they were on fire. It was a great show, and up next was the highlight of the evening.
Fucked Up tore the roof off Neumos, in a way that’s rarely seen. The band was noisy, but played extremely well together, even though from the balcony the songs were often indistinguishable from one another. That didn’t matter. Two dozen stage divers cannot be argued with.
Singer Damian Abraham led the crowd in a sweaty, raucous, mess that was absolutely astonishing to witness. At one point he lead the crowd into chanting “I hate summer” during one song, and into “we’re dying on the inside” during the next. It was beautiful. He took off his shirt, and began twirling his microphone during the first song, and the energy did waver for a solid forty-five minutes.
This was punk rock at it’s purest. Not only did Abraham stage dive but so did one of the guitar players, and the (female) bass player. The latter two did so while they continued playing. The crowd was putty in Abraham’s hands, even when he dove into the crowd during the second to last song, and went to the bar to get a drink. This kind of ballsy awesomeness is so rarely seen at shows. It was breathtaking to behold, and I cannot wait to see this band again.
After Fucked Up, complete exhaustion set in, but I stayed around for Yuck. The band set up, and by their second song the crowd was enthralled. They played a set of slacker rock that made one nostalgic for the mid-90’s, when bands like Pavement were in their prime.
The set ended, and I struggled my way through the crowd, into the street, and through an exhilarated, completely transformed Capitol Hill. It’s 1 a.m., and I can still hear the drunks partying in the streets from my living room window.
