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Prefix At Northside Festival 2011: Day One

2:55 p.m. · June 17, 2011 · by Hilary Beck

Now celebrating its third birthday, the L Magazine's Northside Festival has grown from SXSW's plucky Brooklynite younger sibling into quite a monster in its own right. The four-day tribute to Williamsburg and Greenpoint -- the new scene that celebrates itself -- now boasts over 200 bands (most homegrown and a few returning wayward sons), a fierce championing of local art and D.I.Y. film, and a sort of nebulous creative discussion panel called the "Ideas Festival," all contained within walkable (or for the lazy, tipsy, and overheated, L train-able) distances through the area's myriad venues, bars, and galleries.

But ultimately, and with apologies to the guy screening his film at Uniondocs I met picking up my badge, Northside Festival is about the music; as with all music festival coverage, there will be complaints you've heard and made before. There will be people leaving in the middle of a set to hop to a conflicting gig. Due to the quick-change nature of showcase schedules, there will be sound problems, even in the most impressive of spaces. There will be hour-long lines, especially with the McCarren Park shows, and at least on my end, there will be this existential crisis: "Why am I making myself suffer through Wavves?"

There will also be tough decision making. My first stop of the night was meant to be Theophilus London's opening party at Music Hall of Williamsburg -- but since he wasn't set to take the stage until 9, not 8 as previously thought, he was scratched off the list. I'd also wanted to stop by the NYC Popfest showcase at Bruar Falls, especially to check out Eternal Summers. But my Long Island-honed fondness for church shows won out, and after a couple of false starts, I made my way up to St. Cecilia's for Atlas Sound.

At first entry, the early-2000s church show vibe hit a little too close to home; fans waited impatiently at fold-out tables in a rec room festooned only with Heineken and a dude playing "Champagne Supernova" off his laptop. Thankfully, this was only a makeshift bar to keep drinks out of the church itself, a truly formidable thing of decadent Roman Catholic beauty. From my seat about ten pews back, I had a better view of Jesus on the ceiling than any of the artists actually playing, but it didn't really matter. Openers White Rainbow and Lichens each provided looping, psychedelic electronic drones, and St. Cecilia's echoing acoustics served them well. Atlas Sound -- Bradford Cox armed with a couple of guitars and enough effects pedals to crumble the architecture -- played a continuous stream of songs, many of them new. Aside from the sound blowing out a couple of times (due to an errant and clumsy cameraman crouched at the front), Cox's laments and one-man art-pop reverberated through the church gorgeously.

Unfortunately -- I got a wag of the finger from a member of St. Cecilia's staff -- I was one of many who had to skulk out early, and I made my way back down to North 6th St. for the Wierd Records/The Bunker/No Fun showcase at Public Assembly. It wasn't a show full of too many surprises, given the sponsors: sound artists Rene Hell and Carlos Giffoni provided the noise and occasional experimental noodling, and Peter Van Hoesen soundtracked the shuffle between Public Assembly's front and back rooms with the same sort of minimal wave and early EBM not unfamiliar to Wierd party regulars.

But the night made for a wall-to-wall-packed wecome return for Xeno & Oaklander, who came onstage bathed in fog and loaded with a host of older-than-old-school analog electronics. With a set culled mostly from 2009's Sentinelle, Sean McBride and Liz Wendelbo proved once again why they're two of the scenes most enduring  favorites. Earlier on in the back room, Kindest Lines offered the real breath of fresh air. As well-schooled in melancholy and industrial music as their labelmates, the New Orleans group injected a much-needed dose of fun -- they bounced onstage to the not-exactly-coldwave beats of Cash Money Millionaires -- hazy sunshine, and pop melodies into an occasionally esoteric, over-serious scene.

Day 2 poses a further challenge -- hometown heroes vs. young hype. While a potentially rained-out Beirut is the night's obvious draw, I'm going to hedge my bets and head over to Public Assembly once again for Iceage. The Danish teens land stateside with a lot of enthusiasm for their intense post-punk and blistering live shows; since the night also features Prurient, back in NYC after 2+ years, and a lowered age limit due to Iceage being barely out of secondary school, it's best to get there early.