Basilica Block Party
Stacy Schwartz
Each summer the Basilica Block Party swings around with an ad campaign as aggressive and heavy-handed as incense on Sunday. This year's incarnation cast the Cities97-sponsored and -curated event as begging forgiveness for musical sins of varying veniality. Without the local connections, reunions, and ornithological theme of last year's headliners (The Hold Steady, The Jayhawks, The Black Crowes, and Counting Crows), the 2010 edition relied on the marketable indie cred of bands like Spoon and The Avett Brothers, as well as adult-contemporary-radio heavy hitters Weezer and Barenaked Ladies. Over the course of two days there were musical revelations from the sublime to the damned, and the ever-present purgatory of midway food courts on the long haul between stages.
The Block Party kicked off Friday with a pair of local bands making the case for music that doesn’t necessarily fit into the Cities97 programming. The winner of the Cities97 Battle of the Bands, Hunter(HERO), made a big joyful clatter on the M&M’s Stage (the sacrament of snacks!), and Dada Trash Collage brought slinky synths and ethereal vocals to the Vita.mn Stage. The local string continued with rapper Kristoff Krane, who was backed by the members of the ersatz hip-hop crew No Bird Sing, as well as bassist Casey O’Brien and sax player Kyle Keller. Since he had the band and his iPod was broken, he laid off “the rap jams” in favor of the instrumental and experimental work from his recently released record Hunting For Father (except for an Eminem impression that the young crowd ate up). Playing simultaneously was the Chris Koza-fronted Rogue Valley, whose friendly harmonies and solid structures are the hallmarks of Koza's stellar songwriting. Tunes like “I-5 Love Affair” fit the sunny afternoon perfectly.
After making the pilgrimage across the freeway to the Sun Country Stage, the lovely turned damned as Eric Hutchinson took to the keyboard with some innocuous and bland rip-offs of Randy Newman tunes, replete in a white sportcoat stolen from Barry Manilow’s closet. It was all perfectly encapsulated when Hutchinson announced a new song called “Why Don’t You Try?” and the sizable crowd waiting for Weezer met him with silence. Fortunately, there was some musical redemption with Grace Potter And The Nocturnals, a jam-heavy band in a '70s vein fronted by a whiling dervish whose wailing, yelping, and roaring channeled Janis Joplin and Grace Slick. With freewheeling dancing and flesh on display, Potter closed the set chanting, “I got the medicine you need,” and many were willingly led into temptation.
Following Grace Potter were Austin, Texas indie darlings Spoon, who started off the night right with “Don’t You Evah,” working the bass buzz in a way that didn’t throw off the mix. Live, the band was just as fresh and inventive as its sonically solid recorded performances. Closing out the set with “The Beast And The Dragon, Adored”—and its chorus of “And when you believe they call it rock and roll”—was a testament of faith.
As the big draw of the night, Weezer was a testament to the power of two solid records and a patchy string of hits. Although Rivers Cuomo irritated a lot of photographers by refusing them access to the press pit, the band knows how to keep the public happy. After a set that included “Hash Pipe,” “Undone (The Sweater Song),” “Island In the Sun,” and “El Scorcho” (all while Cuomo danced around on stage and climbed the scaffolding), it was almost tempting to forgive Weezer the excesses of The Red Album and Raditude.
Saturday brought a new crop of local and national acts, starting with Chester Bay, the other winner of the Cities97 Battle of the Bands, who served as the event’s token Dave Matthews-ish act. Susstones' Blue Sky Blackout made its Block Party debut with a set of epic guitar jams, while frontman Christian Erickson’s kids ran in circles on the lawn. The uncovered stage meant that the show was briefly interrupted by rain, but then the heavens parted and the sun shone down on the anthemic sextet. The sun was out in full force for Ingrid Michaelson, who delayed her set as she ran backstage for sunscreen and, after the first song, solicited sunglasses from the audience to distribute to her band. The songstress is a Cities97 regular, and she delighted fans with tunes like “Die Alone” (“A happy song with a sad name,” she quipped) and got a sing-along going with “Giving Up,” encouraging the male members of the audience with “Guys, you can do it too; your penis won't shrink.”
The revelation of the weekend was the Minneapolis debut of VV Brown, a London-born soul singer with a penchant for '50s riffs, a punk edge, and deep funk. For anyone who was disappointed when Janelle Monáe canceled her Taste of Minnesota appearance, Brown was the perfect antidote, bringing sass and fire to her set and getting the staid crowd to wave and dance along as she dedicated songs to nerds she loved, exorcised the demons of ex-boyfriends, and joked about SpongeBob SquarePants. Among the songs she played were a cover of Drake’s “Best I Ever Had” and lead single “Shark In The Water” from her debut, Travelling Like The Light.
Following Brown were The Avett Brothers, who have been through the Twin Cities once already this year and have built a following worthy of a spot on the main stage: The Basilica grounds were packed for the well-dressed North Carolinians. They opened with “Head Full Of Doubt/Road Full Of Promise,” and although their high-octane playing is always fun to watch, the bass-heavy mix that pervaded the event meant that the subtleties of the cello and banjo were lost. But the crowd stayed with them, as was in evidence over at the Barenaked Ladies’ stage, which had a considerably thinner crowd than Weezer the night before. The affable Canadians of BNL are giant dorks, introducing themselves with a white-as-mayo rap and the promise to “make love to each and every one of you.” The hits will do just fine, thanks—they did “The Old Apartment” and, of course, “One Week,” giving the sunned and Michelob Light-sated crowd one last chance to bounce around, with the knowledge that confession was readily available on Sunday.
