Rocktoberfest Acht

So yeah, my friends and I, in a bout of total unoriginality, started this annual party called Rocktoberfest back in 2002. Rocktoberfest is a celebration of beer and friendship and meat and rocking until you break yourself. If that sounds childish and/or unimportant to you, maybe you should attend Rocktoberfest before you go judging things you don’t understand. Or maybe you’re humorless California gubernatorial candidate Meg Whitman, who doesn’t seem to like anything at all, especially if it has ever a) been in a union or b) been poor. But I digress.

This year was the 8th annual Rocktoberfest (Rocktoberfest Acht in German. So Achtoberfest, as my pal Jom pointed out while quite drunk) and we held it at my friend Badier’s mostly former house in Menlo Park, which is dangerously close to Stanford University. Having a massive party in a house that is mostly empty is definitely the way to go. Less shit to break.

I’d like to think that everyone who attends  our Rocktoberfest recognizes that, like Hold Steady albums and good beers, the most recent one is always the best one ever. This year was no exception.

Somewhere in the haze of music, drunk, and smoke, I realized why Rocktoberfest feels like a holiday to those who attend it and, as a sort of bonus realization, why rock ‘n’ roll is not a terrible substitute for a religion (when it doesn’t suck, of course). Let’s deal with the last thing first: at its best, rock ‘n’ roll creates community. When you go to see your favorite band, you share in the pure joy of music with a roomful of strangers. The audience and the band are all plugged in to something much bigger than the sum of its parts. The potential exists in that moment to meet new people and make new friends. You don’t have to do that, of course, but you totally can. And maybe you should. Rocktoberfest is a celebration of an ever-expanding community that started with five guys in a house. Those five guys didn’t always get along by any means, but Rocktoberfest creates a unique present in which the past is mostly obliterated while people sing along to songs like “This Fire” by Franz Ferdinand (modified by us so that the chorus is now, “This beer is out of control/ I’m gonna drink this beer/ drink this beer”) and “Holy Diver” by Dio (we poured one out for Ronnie James Dio this year). Sure, it’s silly. But what’s wrong with being silly?

What happened at Rocktoberfest this year was what I  imagine happened around Joe Strummer’s famous campfires at Glastonbury. Old friends met new friends, some of us had wives to bring, others had kids to leave at home. But for several hours of a Saturday, everyone was cool with everyone. For my part, I was deliriously happy. You can do this anytime you want, and you should. Gather your friends and some drinks and some great music, and celebrate your personal community. Rocktoberfest Acht was a reminder of why I love music and – more important – why I literally love a majority of the people I know. It’s not prayer and it won’t save you from much besides boredom, but it could provide you with one helluva a great night.

So, in the great words of Mr. Craig Finn, “Let this be my annual reminder/ that we can all be something bigger.” Go forward, kids, be awesome to each other, and rock the fuck on.


All We Want, Baby, Is Everything


So Dan Boeckner and his wife, Alexei Perry, are touring Eastern Europe as Handsome Furs and they’re talking to people about life under communism, etc. Boeckner told The Villager about meeting people who were “illegally importing bands into these countries and running clubs with no money and building all their equipment themselves”. Boeckner and Perry were moved by these people’s “tenacious attchment to promoting music, whether it’s gonna make money or not” – so moved, in fact, that they began writing Face Control on that very tour. Coming home to an increasingly right-wing Canadian government and the last days of GW Bush in the U.S. helped add the proper dash of modern paranoia to the mix and the result is a simple (at first) sounding pop record that celebrates music’s ability to lift our spirits even when the powers that be are out to crush them.

That said, nothing on Face Control is all that overt – these are songs about people, and they’re rock songs. Boeckner recognizes that to the real authoritarians out there, rock ‘n’ roll itself is a threat. Anything that’s fun for the kids, anything that gets ’em all sweaty and huggy, is intolerable to most types of dogmatic people, be they religious fundamentalists or revolutionary dictators. Sure, the Clash (whom Boeckner quite rightly praises in the Villager article) sang overtly political tunes, but they also sang “Lover’s Rock,” the first song I know of to suggest cunnilingus as an effective means of birth control. This is probably why Face Control‘s best moments are upbeat rockers like “Talking Hotel Arbat Blues” with its gleeful bass drum stomp (courtesy of Perry) and Boeckner’s shouting “Baby’s outta step with the occupation.” Boeckner adds, “I don’t know/ but I’ve been told/ every little thing’s been bought and sold” just in case you forgot that the narrators of Face Control‘s songs are living under a cloud of oppression and censorship.

In the Villager article (linked here – you should check it out. It’s brief but informative), Boeckner takes a moment to pan indie acts who are dressing up love songs in what he refers to as Dungeons & Dragons metaphors while their continent is plunging into economic ruin caused by nearly a decade of fuck-awful leadership. Boeckner is talking about basically walking a highwire over two pits – one is the Preachy Band pit, where even my hero Billy Bragg is wont to fall (one of my friends summed up Bragg’s entire catalogue once by shouting in an off-key cockney accent, “I don’t like the government.” I was hard-put to argue with him). The other is, to borrow a phrase from Mr. Boeckner, the “bleached-out, ’60s Eagles” Pit. (*cough*Fleet Foxes*cough*). Face Control walks the line pretty well, delivering the rousing “Talking Hotel Arbat Blues” and the beautiful “All We Want, Baby, is Everything,” where Boeckner sings, “Heaven was a place we built out of stone.”

Face Control has been panned by some critics for sounding a like a tossed-off, done-in-a-weekend sort of project, and it does kinda have that sound to it, but whether that’s good or bad is in the ear of the beholder. I happen to like that the album feels that way – it makes me feel like Boeckner and Perry had a sense of urgency about making the music, which suggests that, just as music helped people deal with the atrocities of communism (and, despite what Bob Avakian might have you believe, there is not one communist regime in history that hasn’t censored, persecuted, and trampled the rights of the people they’ve claimed to be helping), perhaps music is helping Canadians Boeckner and Perry deal with the fact that their PM suspended Parliament just as they were finishing the album. Immediacy alone is not reason enough to like an album (sorry, Neil Young. I like that you did Living with War more than I like how it sounds), but the songs on Face Control are quite strong and usually pretty catchy.

The album closes with a song called “Radio Kalininbrad,” which the Villager suggests is alluding to radio station B92 in Serbia, a station that snuck factual reports about Slobodan Milosevic’s crimes out to international news outlets. Boeckner and Perry met with staffers from the radio station who were routinely persecuted by the Milosevic government. Despite being shut down repeatedly, Boeckner credits B92 with helping to get protests going in Belgrade and calling attention to the ethnic cleansing that was going on there at the time. These are the people who need to be celebrated in rock songs and Handsome Furs do them a great honor on Face Control.