|
|
Wrapping up its fourth year, the MidPoint Music Festival has grown on several levels, the most basic being the raw numbers that have expanded steadily with each festival.
Its three-day run Sept. 22-24 featured performances on 21 stages mostly centered in the Main Street Entertainment District and daytime panels/workshop for musicians in first-time MPMF headquarters host, the Contemporary Arts Center (CAC). With nearly 300 acts scheduled to appear (though a handful failed to show) and an estimated attendance at 50,000, MidPoint’s 2005 edition saw an increase similar to its growth from 2003 to 2004.
But the less tangible expansion came via MidPoint’s acceptance level within the city. The support from city leaders and local sponsors gets more solid with each successful event, and local media treat the event with at least the same amount of respect, if not more, other local festival institutions (Oktoberfest, the now-defunct Jammin’ on Main, etc.) receive on an annual basis.
I saw a big sign of the city’s acceptance of MidPoint driving in to downtown for Thursday’s opening showcases. Literally. Cruising down I-75, the Artemis digital signage over the highway (normally designated for traffic delay and construction warnings) glowed with a message about MidPoint, instructing us to use the Fifth Street exit.
When a motorist perhaps just passing through the city on their way to another destination can say they’ve heard of MPMF without the benefit of any of the word-of-mouth or hype machines, you know you’ve got something big. And when a D.I.Y. music festival dedicated to unsigned and unheralded musical acts gets this kind of treatment, you know MidPoint is well on its way to becoming the city’s next cultural institution.
Panelize this
Musicians can be anxious people. During the daytime industry panels on Friday and Saturday, I see several young music types bouncing their legs like jackrabbits scratching fleas and absent-mindedly cracking water bottles and Red Bull cans.
The abundance of free energy drink available during the workshops at the CAC surely has something to do with the jitteriness. More likely, though, the anxiousness is a result of pent-up energy, as many artists are anticipating gigs later that night or the next.
It’s cool to see some of the out-of-town musicians making the most of the workshop and networking opportunities MidPoint lays out for them. It’s all high-quality stuff, but the panel discussions — aimed at helping the struggling musician make his or her way through the dark forest that is the music biz — are sparsely attended. The CAC’s basement theater, where the panels took place, is small enough to make it not appear to be a total wash, and the eagerness of many of the participants makes it all seem worthwhile.
Sitting in on some of the panels, it’s clear that each one addresses individual stages in an unsigned band’s career — recording a CD, selling a CD, touring and so on. Perhaps it’s the musician’s one-track-mindedness that contributes to the low turnout.
Ideally, the majority of the thousands of musicians downtown for the event would be on hand to hear about the tricks of the trade. But a band working on an Internet promo campaign might not be worrying about how to track bass-lines at this time. An artist on the verge of going into the studio might not want to hear a talk about booking a tour.
Rightfully, musicians are using the panels to get tips on whatever project is right in front of them, so perhaps things that are a little more down the line don’t get much consideration, making the panels’ attendance figures expand and contract.
But some might not be showing up because they’re concerned that the discussions won’t offer something that relates to their own circumstance. Different artists have different aspirations, and sometimes the big-league talk of “stardom” or recording on a bazillion-dollar budget doesn’t speak to someone just trying to do something artistically fulfilling on their own modest level. Not everyone wants to be a Rock Star.
To the panelists’ credit, each strives to offer information and advice for varying degrees of aspiration. Ultimately, the workshops’ main thrust is to get the most out of what you want as an artist and to get the most people to hear your music as possible. I would guess that every musician wants people to hear his or her creations.
While MidPoint’s panelists might not speak to everyone, attending the sessions allows you to pick and choose what might be useful in your own endeavors. Of course, some musicians are jaded enough to think they don’t need any more information and some have an aversion to “industry weasels” on any level. This aversion is understandable, but, for the record, there are only a couple of “hot shot” types involved in the daytime activities. And they’re mostly just amusingly self-involved.
Don’t be scared. The panels don’t address everyone’s needs and niches, but, given the amount of performers I see in the clubs who fit the mold of wanting to “make it,” I’m a little surprised there aren’t more musicians getting panelized.
Thursday: Rising tide
As “artist keynote” speaker Greg Dulli says during his on-stage interview with Cincinnati native and world-class journalist Alan Light (who gave his own insightful speech Friday), playing live is still the most effective promotional gun in an artist’s arsenal. And MPMF’s live performance aspect is where the real action is.
The crowds are light on Thursday, as they have been in past years. But Friday’s turnout is remarkable and Saturday’s is downright staggering, with Main Street jammed with traffic like there’s a cornhole tournament finals going on or something.
Patrons are local music loyalists, newbies interested in reaching beyond their normal nightlife comfort zones and, it must be said, a lot of people just looking for a party. Those lines blur as the long weekend wears on.
The media attention given to MidPoint helps people who usually avoid local, original music take the plunge, if only because they know there will be a lot of people to hit on. You don’t really think everyone who goes to a cheesy dance club every weekend really likes bad ’80s music and Top 40 hits, do you? They go because they know that’s where the crowds are.
Now they can add MidPoint to their cruising agenda. At the very least, maybe they’ll continue to check out local and/or original artists, even if they’re looking only for some non-musical action.
The attention MidPoint brings to original, new music — much of it homegrown — helps nurture a scene that sometimes has a huge, Rodney Dangerfield-shaped chip on its shoulder. It’s also a provocative party scene.
The first artist I see Thursday is the polar opposite of the last band I’ll witness. While Saturday’s set by “Japunk” animals The Spunks shows the unhinged, outrageous and explosive side of music, local singer/songwriter Scott Cunningham’s first set as Wake the Bear is a reminder of music’s luminous beauty and tender-heartedness.
No Emo whiny-boy, Cunningham unspools lustrous nuggets of melodic splendor, armed only with an acoustic guitar and small keyboard. His effortless set is witnessed by about 30 people at the smallish Courtyard Café, but each seems appropriately spellbound.
While the rest of the fest would be filled with performances ranging from excellent to mediocre, with some bands doing their best to show off what they believe to be a rockin’ live show, Cunningham’s set is all about his amazing art and songcraft. Above marketing, schmoozing and promoting, that’s really what any music festival should be about.
Australia’s Dream Catcha has the showmanship thing down, bouncing around the stage at Jefferson Hall Thursday with gleeful exuberance. But musically the band pumps out typical bar-band fare.
If the group — which also performs at Copper’s on Main the next night in place of an act that cancels — had been from the States, would they have made the fest? Perhaps. While their performance is lively, their music is stale. If the singer’s Aussie accent doesn’t tip fans off to their country of origin, the bassist’s Crocodile Dundee hat makes it clear.
Elsewhere on Thursday, locals Wussy play a highlight-worthy set at Club Dream (tucked away in “Jail Alley” between the main Main Street succession of venues). At RBC, Missouri’s Bockman makes sonically adventurous sounds for a modest crowd, straddling the line between Jam Band grooviness and Math Rock progressiveness.
I raise my “devil horn” salute for the Rap/Metal crew The Five L’s, who play an energetic set at meat-market dance spot Red Cheetah (strangely, the Cheetah gives over only its outdoor patio to MidPoint, opening its dance club to the usual patrons Friday and Saturday). The North Carolina metallers play atop a dizzyingly high makeshift stage beneath giant letters that read “Bikini Beach,” bringing to mind a Spring Break party hi-jacked by dreadlocked hooligans.
Rappin’ and metallin’ combined is getting a bit tired, but The Five L’s sell it well, and singer Cheebo has some of the best on-stage banter of the fest. “This shit’s called ‘Samurai,’ ” he says at one point, by way of introduction, “and if you don’t like it, I don’t know what the fuck’s wrong with you.” Later, when told to wrap things up, Cheebo says, “Five more minutes? Shit, we can fit two in there.”
Local quartet Humans Bow Down play at Japp’s, a venue clearly not equipped to handle the acoustics of loud, bombastic Rock & Roll. HBD soldier through the ping-ponging loudness and play one of the best sets I see throughout MPMF’s three days, providing soaring songs that are as dynamic as they are powerful.
Around the corner at Club Dream, long-running Cincinnati greats The Wolverton Brothers provide another fest highlight with a set that’s more diversely eccentric and exploratory, a great non-cookie-cutter alternative to all of the “Pop”-based acts that dominate the event.
The artists who play Thursday have to be disappointed in the turnout if they venture out Friday and Saturday night. Still, the crowds, while meager, are largely enthusiastic. And, impressively, almost every act plays like the house is full.
Although it’s a school/work night, it’s a little puzzling just how low (comparatively) the turnouts are on Thursday nights. Survivor, which curiously gets some of its biggest ratings right here in Cincinnati, must have been on the TV.
If there’s anything that could stand to be worked on with MidPoint, it’s how to get more people to show up on opening night.
Friday: Working for the weekend
At last year’s MidPoint, I was flabbergasted by the panhandlers’ aggressiveness and the low police presence on Main Street. I lived on Main Street for five years, so I understand the neighborhood. But during such a big event, safety should be a priority.
This year, police are more visible, but the panhandling is just as ubiquitous. Thursday, it takes three hours before I’m approached by someone asking for change (maybe they were watching Survivor too). Within five minutes of arriving Friday, I’ve not only been panhandled but threatened.
“Have a good evening,” a man loitering near Kaldi’s offers as I walk toward Cooper’s. “Thanks,” I say, passing by.
“And if you come back this way, I’ll be sure you have a bad evening,” he yells after me, following it up with an evil laugh.
He’s gone by the time I dare walk back up the street, making my way to yet another dance-club-turned-live-music venue, The Exchange. Canadian band Starewell play a strong set of radio-friendly Grunge Pop that has elements of so many other bands (Green Day, blink 182, The Vines, Nirvana) you have to think they were a cover band at some point.
Oddly, of the first six or seven songs I hear on Friday, three are covers (including impressive young Country singer Wendy Newcomer’s shuffling version of Tom Petty’s “American Girl” and an acoustic duo’s coffeehouse rendering of a Jackson 5 song at Kaldi’s), and the rest might as well be. The ghosts of cover bands — ostracized to the suburban clubs, at least for this weekend — must be lingering over Main Street.
Promoting music on a larger scale is the emphasis of the daytime workshops, but a lot of participants are ahead of the game, doing groundwork for their showcases tirelessly. Many acts pass out CDs and fliers in an effort to get more people to their gigs.
For Jekyll and Hyde’s second floor festivities Friday, the performers unite to promote their night as an Electronic showcase. Dominated by local acts, it features everything from the dreamy, hypnotic New Age-tinged “Trip Pop” of Hungry Lucy to the textural Electro Rock of Diet Audio, who utilize electronic drums, viola and distorted bass but are better when using their more conventional synth/guitar/ bass/trap kit setup.
Singer Amy Whitaker, decked out in a stylish cocktail dress, gives a strong performance, keeping the mid-sized crowd informed of the mood of every song. (“This next song is kinda suicidal,’ she apologizes. “But it will get happy soon.”) The video projections shining over top the band while they play create a cool effect, though bassist Frank P seems unprepared for it (“Ouch,” he yells playfully, after stepping up for a background vocal only to be blinded).
Around 11 p.m. Friday, the clubs really start to fill up. Local space-aged Indie popsters (in)camera draw an elbow-to-elbow crowd for their impressive set on alchemize’s upstairs stage. The band sounds and plays great, but their mass of equipment forces singers/keyboardists Susan Smith and Shelagh Larkin to perform in front of the stage while the rest of the band towers over them from behind. Their sharp vocal harmonies and incandescent melodies (one of the band’s strong suits) are unfortunately lost in the mix.
Knoxville Power Pop heroes The Rockwells live up to their name at The Exchange, pulling off a high energy set dosed with humorous between-song exchanges. At one point, bassist Fred Kelly invites the men in the crowd to join the ladies who are dancing up front. “You can dance and still get laid,” he jokes.
After watching a few songs from promising up-and-coming singer/songwriter Ramsey at the Courtyard Café, I see a man run through the traffic of Main Street to tell Lisa Walker of Wussy that she and her bandmates are his “new heroes,” saying how amazed he was by their set the night before.
After a performance from local faves Buckra at Red Cheetah — which moved its stage from the steep-stepped incline to a lower, centered and well-lit stage for the weekend — it’s clear that L.A. Latino rockers Viva Malpache are going to be a no-show for their 1 a.m. slot. While Buckra is initially forbidden to simply stretch out their midnight performance, the stage manager comes over to guitarist Jacob Heintz to offer the band some more time. But Heintz suggests giving the extra set to out-of-towners Bishop Don.
“They drove all the way from Atlanta,” the chivalrous guitarist says. Bishop Don proceed to play a loose but fun (and slightly intoxicated) collection of their Southern-slanted Indie Pop to a well-lubricated audience.
The pastel-hued promo photo of Florida’s Girls on Film (where they look like extras from Lionel Ritchie’s “All Night Long” video) don’t properly prepare me for the icy-cool New Wave/No Wave sound of their 1 a.m. set at Club Dream. While the band’s angular haircuts and makeup gave them an unavoidably gimmicky flair, their music is more in the vein of ’80s underground Electronica.
I close Friday out on a high note, seeing the newly revamped local Indie Pop band The Spectacular Fantastic for the first time. While previously somewhat timid and stoic in a live setting, the new SpecFan is beefier and fiery, giving singer/songwriter Mike Detmer’s brilliant tunes the live manifestation they so greatly deserve.
Excessive boozing and debauchery is no odd occurrence in the Main Street Entertainment District. An over-indulger at Courtyard Café is told to leave and proceeds to shatter a glass and tell the bartender, “I’ll remember you!” (Uh, you’ll be lucky to remember what city you were in, buddy.)
Near Red Cheetah, a young woman is crouched against a wall, head down and feet bare. She looks like she might be in need of medical attention but then suddenly lets out a jubilant, “Yeaaahhhh!” Later that night, another young woman approaches me and asks if she can ask a question. “Can I buy a joint?” she pleads. Informed that I don’t have anything on me, she drunkenly continues, “Where do you live?!”
In other words, a typical weekend night on Main Street.
Saturday: Clubbed to death
Every year there are grumblings about flaws, real and perceived, in the MidPoint system. Complaints — many from artists who are declined invitations — range from how some lesser acts slip though to make the fest and the corporate presence (necessary to foot some of the bills) to organizers’ unwillingness to book “name” national Indie acts (see: the unsigned acts part of the MPMF manifesto) and occasionally inconsistent bills.
The bitching is mostly petty, though the perception that MidPoint is primarily a Rock festival is understandable. This year sees an increased diversity, but it seems like a lot of non-Rock musicians don’t feel welcome, despite the fact that organizers go out of their way to promote that MidPoint is for everyone.
Still, perhaps there’s the potential for some sort of outreach program where the organizers can approach artists in, say, the Jazz or Hip Hop communities and strongly encourage their participation. Each artist who submits an MPMF entry goes through the same objective judging process, suggesting a lack of submissions from the non-Rock world. Still, a little give and take on both ends would be fruitful.
Hip Hop got its own night this year, which shows that at least some acts outside of the Rock realm are getting in on the action. After a 15-minute delay, the Saturday showcase on Jekyll and Hyde’s second floor stage kicks off with local duo Definition, who perform a playful, tight set of smart, energized Hip Hop.
Live Hip Hop can be a bit like Punk Rock — over-spilling energy, where sometimes the message or poetry of the lyrics gets lost in the live vigor. For Definition’s Ill Poetic and Zone Ill, two fantastic lyricists, the bombast of bass battled for frequencies with their vocals and the bass usually won, leaving their rhymes largely unintelligible. The twosome makes the most of it, cracking each other up regularly with one-liners (“Stay classy, San Diego,” they both say at the end of their set) and enjoying themselves despite the small audience, which consists of several members of the other Hip Hop acts on the bill who all seem impressed.
I designate Saturday as the night to explore some of the clubs off the traditional MPMF route. While the majority of the venues are located within about two blocks of each other around Main Street, to get to Arnold’s and the Blue Wisp Jazz Club one has to cross Central Parkway and get down to Eighth Street.
Expecting less than full crowds, I’m impressed to see that both venues are almost as busy as the Main Street clubs. At the Blue Wisp, L.A.’s Layabout plays a soothing set of “Jazz Pop” that sounds like James Taylor on a Jazz bender. Singer/ pianist Edward “Tex” Miller lauds the club, saying he and his bandmates read up on it before coming into town. “It’s about one in every 20 gigs that I get to play a real piano,” Miller says, referring to the baby grand provided by the club.
The Blue Wisp — which hosts everything from Jazz to Americana acts — is probably the coziest MidPoint venue, with comfortable seating and that cool, low-key Jazz club vibe. It also draws perhaps the cleanest cut audiences of the whole fest. Let’s just say it gets the award for most tucked-in-shirts.
Then there’s The Viper Room, which, on first glance, would appear to be the odd club out, as its location across town makes walking impractical. But while not wall-to-wall, the new venue has a substantial crowd Saturday to see the fantastic local Rock foursome The Defrost Star. (Owner Tony Dotson says the club was full the night before when local up-and-comers The Terrors played.)
In its first year, MidPoint suffered from too many clubs scattered throughout Greater Cincinnati. The consolidation of venues on Main Street remedied that, so this year’s inclusion of The Viper Room is a bit of an experiment. A shuttle bus is available to bring revelers here, but it doesn’t go well. No one seems to know where to go to catch the shuttle, and its regularity is questionable at best.
Coupled with post-Reds game traffic, venturing to The Viper Room is a bit time-intensive, not exactly what you want when you’re trying to see a gazillion bands in a limited time period. Still, the venue — one of the best Rock clubs in town — is bustling.
Perhaps eventually the space between The Viper Room and Main Street will fill in with more venues and all of downtown can be turned over to MidPoint. This city could really use some more music venues down toward the river to give Cincinnati more of a vibrant city center.
The Defrost Star is one of the more entertaining and powerful bands at the fest. The power comes from their expressive, melodic songs and heavy bluster. The band’s amusing between-song chatter is wildly entertaining. Bad jokes, faux-cockiness (“How’s my hair look?”) and funny non-sequiturs (“This song is about the first time I punched a horse”), coupled with the band’s lively stage presentation, make them the first act I actually feel compelled to stay and watch an entire set.
Rushing back to Main, I find Jekyll and Hyde’s second floor filled up considerably. Columbus’ Lab Rats don’t disappoint, their amusing, atypical setup and musical approach gradually drawing more and more fans closer to the stage as their set moves on. The duo is kind of like a two-man five-piece band, as they jump to guitars, bongos, keyboards, turntables and microphones kinetically throughout their creatively mischievous performance.
Elbowing my way into the packed main stage at alchemize, I see my final highlight performance. New York’s The Spunks (led by astounding Japanese frontman Hajime) are burning down the stage, tearing through a set of joyous, adrenalized Punk Rock as if it’s their last show. The band is indeed signed, like their tourmates and alchemize closing act GitoGito Hustler, to Gearhead Records, which seems to go against the MPMF doctrine of “unsigned only.”
But who cares? This trio is amazing to watch. Referencing the Sex Pistols, The Ramones and Joan Jett in their songs, the band shakes the club like it’s an airport Day’s Inn. The music is basic but explosive Punk, and all eyes are on Hajime and his hysterical hijinks and banter.
Pulling a female audience member on stage to play guitar for the last song, Hajime is suddenly standing right next to me, 20 feet from the stage, looking for something to drink. After picking up a random cup from the table to my left, he tunnels his way to the bar, while the band’s newest member actually does a pretty good job jamming with the other two Spunks on stage. Hajime tells the crowd to enjoy GitoGito Hustler (perhaps the most anticipated band playing the fest, judging from the huge line that stretches around the block right before they hit the stage), but “don’t touch them — they are my wives.”
The Spunks show the best audience-to-band give-and-take of the festival and remind everyone there why they’re at MidPoint in the first place. Music is all about sharing (though don’t tell that to the RIAA) and — beyond the recording process, the touring dos-and-don’ts and the promotional ups and downs — it’s essentially about connecting with an audience. You don’t need a panel to tell you that.
Cream rises to the top
After watching about a half hour of the spirited, hands-on critique session called the “Demo Derby,” where panelists listen to 90 seconds of several artists’ recordings and offer their honest opinions, I head out of the CAC Saturday and walk up Vine Street, where I spot a musician.
Now, I’ve spotted a lot of musicians on downtown streets in the past three days, but this young man probably has no idea what MidPoint even is (even though you could throw a rock and hit the CAC from where we are). With a handful of burned CDs with self-made cover art, he’s approaching people randomly to ask if anyone wants to buy one.
The aspiring Rap star doesn’t have a MidPoint badge (most people at the panels seem to be from the Rock, Alternative and Indie worlds). He doesn’t know about business models per se. But the budding entrepreneur is no less valid than anyone at the festival. In fact, he could easily be famous or successful before any of the artists participating in MidPoint.
Like Master P and other rappers have shown, or what experimental acts do with their burned CD trading, creativity in promotion and doing what fits your image and style is essential. There’s no secret key that gets you to the next level in the music business.
I hear people talking about how they do everything they’ve been told and they still haven’t seen any rewards. Maybe the best advice is to go back to the basement and get better.
As Greg Dulli says during his interview on Friday, “The cream rises to the top.” Because MidPoint is for the unsigned artist, the workshops and panels are a vital, necessary component of the fest — but the primary focus of any musician should be honing his or her craft. Make the best music you can and try to get as many people to listen to it as possible. Play live, promote your shows/CDs and stop bitching about what you don’t get or what other people are doing.
As MidPoint grows and helps give confidence and self-esteem to many in the local music community, here’s hoping no one forgets that the best advice for any artist is to make good art. ©
This article appears in Sep 28 – Oct 4, 2005.