All Tomorrow’s Parties, Day 3

MAGNET’s Matt Siblo reports from the All Tomorrow’s Parties festival in the Catskill Mountains.

Sunday belonged to the Flaming Lips (pictured), not only as curators but spiritual musical guides. The day was billed as (mostly) unique and concept-driven, much like the Lips themselves, in an effort to combat the doldrums of routine often found at festivals. The Boredoms were the first up, with their nine-drummer Boadrum. The enthusiasm the band inspires in its audience is a sight to behold, all thrashing bodies and pounding fists. As spectacle, the incessant pounding and theatrical flourishes cannot be matched. But the music felt stagnant at points, and the high level of intensity was hard to maintain. The Caribou Vibration Ensemble came next, a 15-member band featuring Kieran Hebden (Four Tet), Jeremy Greenspan (Junior Boys) and Marshall Allen (current Sun Ra Arkestra bandleader). With such a wide array of talent (and sheer quantity), it’s hard not to expect anything but sheer genius. But as is often the case, too many cooks left the broth tasteless. In both cases, Boadrum and the Caribou Vibration Ensemble captured a commendable spirit of collaboration and improvisation, but by stretching their ideas across full sets, the music’s novelty and spontaneity was stunted.

Or they could have taken a page from Oneida and infinitely stretched themselves out. The Brooklyn band transformed a faded sports bar into the Ocropolis, a blissed-out safe haven for the barbiturate inclined. The noise shifted and swirled alongside whomever joined in, whether it be Akron/Family, the Flaming Lips or even Oneida playing Oneida. Black Moth Super Rainbow was the closest manifestation of the Lips’ expansive influence over the day; with its drippy, drug-addled synth and furry mascot, the band had the room swaying in a mid-afternoon haze.

If the Boadrum and Caribou Vibration Ensemble sets came together in an effort toward musical craftsmanship, No Age and Bob Mould came together for a set of swirling angst. Alternating songs from No Age’s Nouns and Hüsker Dü classics (such as “Makes No Sense At All” and “I Apologize”), the trio looked remarkably comfortable indulging in each other’s noise. Not to be outdone, Bradford Cox joined them on a rendition of the Heartbreakers’ “Chinese Rocks.” Not all nostalgia feels so youthful.

And then, of course, there was the Flaming Lips. After an exhaustive weekend, the band descended to reinforce its place as the penultimate live band. Much has been said both good and bad about the group’s delirious antics (too much bark, not much bite), which is valid as an intellectual exercise. But for a visceral experience in unbridled enthusiasm, the Lips are the undisputed champions. If Kutsher’s is in the market for a new house band, they might have stumbled upon kindred spirits.

Around 2:15 a.m., Bradford Cox and Circulatory System’s Will Cullen Hart strolled by the lake with a cello player and violin, as a dozen fans strolled alongside them, following them to three different locations around the hotel. In a dimly lit piano-room area and under a bright star-filled sky, the crowd was treated to a wide-ranging set of covers and originals in one collective sing-a-long. Strumming on top of a picnic table, as it turns out, is just as effective as strobe lights and confetti.