Back to the glorious decaying resort of Kutsher's for the 2nd installment of the ATP/NY weekend of music, film, discussion, camaraderie and general good time.  Day 1 featured some bands playing their seminal records (a la 'Don't Look Back') like last year, but others just doled out a mix of their work without pretense to playing favorites in regards to a particular album.  Here's a quick rundown...The Drones kicked off the weekend with a rip through their Wait Long By The River & The Bodies Of Your Enemies Will Float By, their second record which was released five years ago.  Raw-edged rock with an edge sharper than a laser, Gareth Liddiard howled like a man possessed, with his only salvation determined by the amount of force he could put to his guitar's tremelo bar.  Next up was The Feelies with their nervous but exuberant debut Crazy Rhythms, newly-reissued.  Tight, snarled VU riffs and a precision percussion team was pure excellence, the performance a bit looser than last year's Boston show. 

The Dirty Three added a surprise guest, with fellow Aussie Nick Cave providing the piano on their Ocean Songs album.  De facto leader Warren Ellis whirled and kicked like a bespoke-suited Dervish when he wasn't defending his band against the inspiration of emo between songs.  Jim White would win any Gene Shalit lookalike contest to be held on site, and his arms continually windmilled through the air, holding either sticks, mallets or brushes. Suicide brought their harrowing dystopian views into full throbbing focus, Martin Rev's massive synth attack making the stage shake while Alan Vega told tales that most would not wish to hear.  But they must be heard, especially the monstrous "Frankie Teardrop," a detached tale of ultimate despair.

Panda Bear crammed the main room like it was a saline immersion tank, deep beats providing a sonar depth charge, frosted by his sweet vocals, and Iron & Wine was a gentle folk wind to prepare for the hurricane to come.  He kicked off his set with a breezy cover of "Such Great Heights" from Postal Service, encouraging the audience to sing along.  I skipped over to the comedy room to check out Eugene Mirman and David Cross, who delivered stories of shitting his pants with a straight face. 

The evening was closed out with a roar via the resurrected Jesus Lizard, and David Yow spent as much time in or on the crowd as he did on stage.  Snarling, brooding, incisive, and sorely missed.  These guys slayed.  As far as musical proficiency goes it's tough to beat this team, and the unpredictable antics of Yow kept the adrenaline level in the red all night.  Welcome back.