DVD Reviews: Fested: A Journey to Fest 7

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2011
Images from the Internet


Fested: A Journey to Fest 7
Directed by Reese Lester
Blue Elephant Media, 2010
109 minutes, USD $14.95
Wildeyereleasing.com
NationalUnderground.org
Getfested.com
MVDvisual.com

”It’s a big, drunk, punk rock, bearded, tattooed family reunion”
X – Chris, Static Radio (NJ)

This release begs the question, at what point does recording an event go from snapshot to document, and then to documentary? With the availability of digital recording technology being ever increasingly omnipresent, this becomes more of an issue. For me, Fested lands somewhere in the middle, near the document level.

But first, to the topic at hand: during a weekend in late October, there is a drunk punk festival (aka “The Fest”) held yearly in the redneck setting of Gainesville, Florida, for which people come from all over the world (both to play, and to view). During the 2008 gathering, there were 3,000 fans and 270 bands playing in 12 venues ranging in size from the size of a storage unit to large theaters. Reese Lester and a bunch of his friends attended that year, with digi-cams in hand. They documented many moments, sometimes in snippets, no matter how great, no matter how mundane.

The issue of the “mundane” is why I pose the question at the beginning of this review. They start shooting four days before the Fest, so for the first 20 minutes or more of this DVD, we watch them eat and yak with friends at a taco stand, a drunken yet unexciting party to watch, hanging out at the band Dirty Money (after the Fest they would change their name to Spanish Gamble) where we watch shots of them get drunk and yakking, buying drinks and yakking, and later a jumbled volunteer orientation meeting. All this is pretty much a waste of time for the viewer, actually.

It finally gets interesting when we watch Dirty Money practice in what is called a warehouse, but actually is that storage unit I mentioned earlier. This is the first point of real significance, even though only part of a song is shown.

Dirty Money meet the band OK Pilot (from Exeter, Devon, UK) and they pass around a bottle of Night Train, while we watch their reactions. I’ve had it myself, and could commiserate with them. For those who haven’t, its taste is somewhere between cherry cough syrup and Nyquil. If that sounds disgusting, well, it is until you get used to the taste, but it’s cheap (it was $1 a bottle when I drank it in the late ‘70s) and gives a buzz quite quickly.

After watching them pick up some people at the airport in a scene that is full of jump cuts and dialog that is simply impossible to follow (i.e., a waste), we get to see some of the pre-first night show at the 1982 club; well, actually, not inside the club, just talking to people outside. Fortunately, this is followed by another pre-Fest warehouse show with The Anchor, from Austin, TX (playing "This is For My Friends”). The song is good, but the vocals are drowned out. The filmmakers use the mic on the cameras, so depending on where they stand is what you hear, so since they were near one of the speakers that didn’t spit out the vox, we don’t really hear it well.

The morning of the registration, we see interviews with members of bands such as OK Pilot, the Flatliners (Trono, or Toronto to non-Canadian), and Static Radio (NJ; this is from where the quote at the top of the review comes). Following is a registration drunken pool party where people fall over and dialog is almost impossible to follow (i.e., a waste).

Now we’re a third into this (just over 30 minutes) and nothing much has really happened. If you’re watching Fested for the second or more time, this is probably where you’ll stop jumping chapters.

The first song, natch, is by Dirty Money at The Venue club (“123 Fest”). The song has a good chant-along anthem chorus. This is followed by OK Pilot at 1982. They have a more punk style, and could be considered dissonant post-hardcore. Again, the sound varies from venue to venue, dependent of the system, and where the camera is placed.

.From there, lots more music flows and the reason for getting this DVD becomes clear; I’m grateful that most of the songs are complete, not just clips. Sure, there’s some crap in between (i.e., a waste), but the music holds out. A list of the bands that perform is at the end of this review. The first band who is captured with a really decent sound is pop punkers The Falcon (Chicago) at the Common Grounds (“The La-Z-Boy 500”).

In fact, many of the bands are pop-punk, as that seems to be the punk genre du jour, which I like better than, say, grunge, so no complaints. There are some other punk variations, like hardcore (such as the Flatliners and Hour of the Wolf), but the presence of beards after beards say it all. Curiously, there is very little moshing or stage diving shown, nor are there many bands with women.

One of the few funny drunken entertainment moments is when Lester interviews a few street winos who are joking about their friend lying unconscious on the sidewalk in an awkward position. One says, “He hit is tree on the head.” I do admit that including these guys could be seen as in questionable taste as they didn’t really have anything to do with the Fest, but it’s compelling, nonetheless. Sad that these alcoholics are some of the more engaging people we meet on this journey.

An unfunny drunk moment towards the end is at a party where we have to hang out with soused Dirty Money and OK Pilot, who Lester tries to interview. Everyone gives up at some point, however, when they realize there is nothing happening.

What starts as one of the better scenes is when Paint It Black tries to play a show in a parking lot from the back of a U-Haul truck after a Bouncing Souls gig. Soon, there’s technical problems followed by the arrival of the police on horseback who break the event up. The entire thing is nearly 6 minutes long, but it really could have been cut down to 4 or so, as it just goes on and on past the point of anything happening.

There are three bonus extras included. The first is “The Stage Dives of Fest 7,” which is in very slo-mo, to the soundtrack of Vangelis’s “Chariots of Fire” (a song I was tired of when it was overused during slo-mo scenes in the ‘80s). I found this 3:15 B&W short more interesting at 2x speed, which is not quite normal, but fast enough not to grow tedious. Second up is the humorous “Get FESTED Drinking Game,” which is text-based, gives some suggestions on when to take a hit, such as every time someone says “dude” or “bro” (just two of many). The last is 1:35 of the band Hour of the Wolf doing a cover of Black Flag’s “Fix Me.” The mic on the singer sounds terrible and you can’t hear it, though I guess the main, interesting point is the bassist stage diving stark naked.

So, to sum up, the event itself is important to document, and I appreciate and enjoyed quite a bit of the effort made. The extraneous shit was exactly that, and thank goodness for the fast forward and skip buttons. Please, Lester, don’t sop filming, especially shows, but some serious editing out of anything that has nothing to do with anything would be greatly appreciated. Y’know, if we don’t know these people, we are not going to be interested in snippets of them. This 109 minute opus would have been a very nice 50 minute or so documentary. I am hoping that Lester continues to shoot events like this, and has someone helping him in the editing room. Dude, I’m with ya, bro (hic).

Bands performing on DVD:
The Anchor
Dirty Money
OK Pilot
Static Radio
The Falcon
Hour of the Wolf
The Lawrence Arms
None More Black
Paint It Black
New Mexican Disaster Squad
The Flatliners

Thoughts on Flying from West Palm Beach to LaGuardia

Text and photos (c) Robert Barry Francos

Written throughout the day of Monday, April 20, 2008.

• I bought my tickets from an online service to save some cost, but they split it on two separate airlines, flying from West Palm Beach (WPB) and switching at Dulles outside Washington, DC, with a four-hour layover. Because it was split that way, Jet Blue would not permit me to switch to a direct flight to LaGuardia (LGA), despite being room in standby. I would have been home in mid-afternoon, hours before my flight was scheduled to arrive. Next time, I only fly with partners.

• At WPB, I'm sitting directly across from the flight to LGA that I was banned from, and they made numerous announcements about the flight boarding, especially since it was a bit late. The doors closed at 11:30 (I had been there since 10:30, my flight at 12:40). At 11:35, a woman about 65-70 years old comes up to the gate and wants to get aboard, yelling that she has been waiting for the flight since 9:30 and didn't hear the announcements, and somehow missed the large crowds lining up to board. She is arguing with the man at the gate (same one that would not let me switch flights), so she apparently is not deaf. Don't know why she was so clueless. The gate people check, but it is too late, the plane bridge is already detatched.

• Cell phones, cell phones, cell phones everywhere, and not an importance to hear.

• Watching the luggage get loaded in WPM through the plane window, wondering why they always slam the luggage down on the conveyor. I'm grateful that I have carry-on.

• Woman across from me at United's gate at Dulles busily using Purell, then rubbing her hands with an alcohol pre-soaked cloth...all the while coughing deeply without covering her mouth.

• I am set to fly out of Dulles at 6:59/18:59, so I went to see if I can get an earlier flight. I'm put on standby (while keeping the original ticket) for a 5:09/17:09-er. Thanks to delays at LGA due to storms, as I write this my standby flight is bumped up to 6:54/18:54, with my original one set to 7:46/19:46. No matter what, I'm going to miss Heroes.

• I write most of the blog about the Detours: NYC's Premiere Film Noir and Arts Festival that I saw on Thursday night, before I left for WPB. I'll finish it tomorrow, but meanwhile, as I wait, I'm reading Travis Nichols' Punk Rock Etiquette: The ultimate how-to guide for DIY, punk, indie, and underground bands (Roaring Brook Press, NY: 2008). He's a musician and cartoonist (for Nickelodeon Magazine). It's a short and funny book on how to start and maintain a band, including recording and going on the road. Far easier to read the book than to focus on the article right now.

• Dulles is a badly laid out airport which has these huge people moving bus vehicles that take you from terminal to terminal. They remind me of the two-legged machines from The Empire Strikes Back, or as I like to call it now, "Something, Something, Something, Dark Side."

• A couple about my age now sitting across from me at Dulles, both dressed in purple: his shirt and her jacket, blouse and pants. He looks a little like Robert Foxworth, she like Maggie Smith. Don't know what led up to it, but he flipped out and violently grabbed something out of her hand and then ripped it up. He sulked for a bit, and then walked off, dragging his luggage and leaving her behind. I was thinking of reaching out to her and asking if she was okay, but he came back, without saying anything at first. Then he opened his carry on suitcase and pulled out something from an amber bottle and took it, and then gave one to her. She hesitantly swallowed it. Prozac? He put his hand on hers and while I couldn't make out much of what he was saying, it was obviously an apology. I did then hear him say that there was a lot he was sorry for in his life. And through his whole long comment, he kept his eyes tightly closed, like one does praying hard. Hmmm. He's getting teary and she is responsive, but stony). Her hand is on top of his patting it as she responds, and she fiddles with the ring on the other hand (looks like fancy wedding band, but on her right). So much drama; meanwhile, the standby flight is still 1-1/2 hours away and I do not know if I'll be on it.

• Well, when I got my standby pass, I was told I was first on the list; now it is 6:20/18:20 and I've just been told that I am 12th because of my low air miles (i.e., I'm not on their "plan"). And my real flight is now scheduled for 10:00/22:00. My chances, so I'm told, are slim. That means I am looking forward to another 4 hours of waiting. Fuck! That will mean 12 hours for a 2-1/2 hour trip.

• Finished Travis' Punk Rock Etiquette book. I'd like to see 2 additions: In the "Packing" and "Roadmance" sections, include condoms. And when staying in other people's houses, do NOT steal!

• So, I didn't make it onto the standby flight. I was number 12, and they let on 4 people. Didn't even come close.

• Starving, as I haven't eaten since 8:30 this morning, I grabbed a burger about 100 yards down the terminal. I come back to find out my 10:00 flight was cancelled. In fact, everything out of Dulles was cancelled for the night. After standing on line at the courtesy desk (which was directly across from the burger place) for an hour, I booked a flight for tomorrow morning. I am staying at a Holiday Inn for $75 (plus tax). Have to check out tomorrow at 6:00. I am writing this on the hotel's Business Suite computer, and am saving it without publishing, which I will do tomorrow. More when I get back home...

---

Continued the next day, Tuesday, April 21, 2008.

• Fell asleep last night near midnight, waking up with a start at 4:00 AM (had a call set for 5:30), so I scanned the hotel television, including the two music channels. Lady CaCa: Are you serious? People like this? Jamie Foxx: Like T. Pain, he has a good voice that is wasted by electronica vocals. Kelly Clarkson: Reminscent of Celine Dion, as a blaster, but KC has a bit more subtly, though doesn't show it much trying to be a pop rocker. Britney Spears: Congrats on the comeback but go away again now, okay? Pink: I also like her voice, but her style and production values make her uninteresting to me. The same videos are playing on both channels. Wasn't VH1 started to be different? Apparently, I'm not missing much by not "wanting my MTV."

• The Holiday Inn Dulles-Chantilly bill came to $81.75 after tax. Not sure where that will come from. It would have been double that without the United voucher. Because it was weather related, I was lucky to get that.

• They tell me to be at the gate 2 hours before the flight because of what happened last night. When I get there, I'm told I didn't even need to check in because I already had my ticket. What was the point of my early arrival? I could have had my Continental breakfast after all.

• My 8:25 flight is delayed until 8:45 due to clouds over LGA. Didn't they used to fly in rain and clouds, climbing above and landing through? Isn't that what radar is for?

• We board at 8:20, and sit on the tarmac, told the flight had clearance to leave at 9:30; still, we take off at 9:15, and I alpha-sleep most of the way.

• The plane lands at LGA officially 10 minutes late, after a 38 minuite flight. That 38 minutes took me about 20 hours and $81 extra.

• The M-30 bus and N/D trains come quickly. On the train I'm thinking that I used to enjoy riding outside the tunnels and having a view; now I anticipate the tunnels for the silence.

• I walk in my door just about at noon, and my cats are as thrills for me to be home as I am.

• Next time, St. Louis. Stay tuned...

Seeing Bands in Ft. Lauderdale - 1982

Text © Robert Barry Francos
Images from the Internet

Soon, I will be taking a very brief trip to south Florida to visit relatives, many of whom I haven’t seen in a number of years. Needless to say, I am excited about it.

The Majestic Gardens condo

Coincidently, I recently found my journal from the early ‘80s, which includes a visit to these same relatives, who then lived in adult complex called Majestic Gardens, across the street from the Lauderhill Mall. My pal Alan Abramowitz joined me for a few days, and then flew back while I remained at my Aunt’s insistence (not that I had any complaints, mind you). It was between jobs (much as I am now), so I stayed down there for about a month, hitting thrift shops looking for albums (found a ton, which I had shipped back), and seeing films (including Ghost Story, Raiders of the Lost Arc, and the cheesy horror film, The Beast Within).

Back in the ‘80s, South Florida was a minor hotbed of musical action. There were a large number of bars that flowed along the coast from Ft. Lauderdale down through Hollywood and Miami, as it was still one of the Spring Break hotspots. Each place had their own house band and even those groups made their tours of other bars in the area. Some were great, like Charlie Pickett and the Eggs (who I saw at CBGB), but mostly there were cover bands.

I am reprinting, in part, my diary entry for Tuesday, March 16, 1982, which discusses the night before, when I went bar hopping with a relative of a member of the condo complex in which I was staying with my Aunt Elsie. Any comment I have added will be in brackets and italicized, [like this]. For longer commentary, I have used asterisks (*), which will be referenced at the end.

---

11:20 PM – At Aunt Elsie’s House, Florida

Lauderhill, in relation to Ft. Lauderdale

At 7:00 PM last night, I met Robert (W–, grandson of Chasen) and we drove [From previous day’s journal: He has the car for one night (tonight) so we’re gonna head to downtown Ft. Lauderdale and do a bit of bar-hopping. I’m meeting him…by the pool.] to a bar in Ft. Lauderdale called the Playpen*. They had two bands playing. One was a ‘60s band (members about 35 years old) called, appropriately, The Greasers. They also did early ‘60s surf song, etc. Not bad.

The other band was a rock’n’roll group call The New Society Band**. They were really good. They were doing covers of early ‘sixties stuff like the Who, Beatles, Elvis, etc., along with the occasional Lynyrd Skynyrd (Yeeech), Go-Go’s (“Got the Beat”), and Split Enz songs. During one of the songs, the lead signer points to my Buddy Holly button and goes an “OK” sign. Then shows his Elvis button and I returned the sign.

We went outside to go to another bar and ran into the latter band. The lead singer (Robert, who looks like a young Alice Cooper sans make-up) remembered me because of the button. I told him I liked the band, even though they only did covers. He said that they do originals, but they get paid to do covers to the students in for Spring Break. I gave him my card and told him to get in touch with me if they ever get into NYC. He said he’d subscribe! [To my fanzine, FFanzeen, which was active at the time.]

Ft. Lauderdale

Robert (W.) and I drove around a bit after putting on free Playpen tee shirts (for coming in before 8:00 – it was a $4 cover and one beer at $1.75). We ended up back at the Playpen and saw another set of both groups. The bass player and lead singer Robert waved to me. During the Greasers’ set, we stepped outside and talked for a while with Robert (they are Playpen’s house band it seems, and they work 7 nights a week – he’s 30). He said that he’d include an original, “Middle Class Blues,” for me.

When they were on stage, the bass player waved to me, and when it came time to do the original number, Robert said, “This goes out for Robert. Everybody buy FFanzeen!” I was impressed, even though I doubt there was anyone there who knows what the hell he was talking about. Still, it’s rare a song was dedicated to me (the first being by the Rattlers at Zappas [a long-gone Brooklyn bar and showcase]. We left while they were still on stage (the place, which is also known as the “Pigpen,” is rightfully nicknamed, ‘cause it was a real zoo), and they waved goodbye to us.

After driving around a bit, we ate at a Denny’s on 441 and Oakland (I had a terrible sandwich of dried beef and melted swiss cheese). We got home around 2:15 am. I woke up once at 6:30 for 20 minutes (dreaming of chainsaw murders!) and then Aunt Elsie woke me at 9:30.

---

There isn’t much of a takeaway from this, but one of the points for my reprinting this is to reinforce something I have stated before: when one goes to see independent bands, one is never certain what will be found, quality wise, but the groups are usually accessible, giving a more personal feel to the music. For example, I was able to walk up to the Cramps at CBGB to ask for an interview in 1977. Getting to hang out with the Ramones backstage/upstairs with the Ramones the day before they left for their infamous first tour of the UK is something I’ll treasure. Perhaps the New Society Band and the Greasers never reached the level of any of the bands they covered, but they were fun and personable. I thank them, and all the up-and-coming (or down-and-coming) bands out there.

* From inthe80s.com: “Art Stock's Playpen, South Fort Lauderdale, FL – 1981-1987. Great hole in the wall that had 'Heavy Metal Mondays' and free drinks every weeknight from 8p-10p. Cool local bands and even a few national acts from time to time. Hot metal chicks (does anybody remember Ruby?) and great local acts like Diamond Rose, Panic, etc. One Monday night, with my buddy Mark Fenney passed out on a bench outside, I actually met a fella named James Hetfield there, who at the time was the lead singer and rhythm axeman of a little know up and coming band called 'Metallica'! The place became a popular titty bar in the late 80's called 'Pure Platinum' and the memories (but certainly not the mammaries) were gone forever!"

** I am not sure if this Bangor, ME-located band is the same, as I have a slightly different name for the lead singer in the journal, but who knows if I heard right. Also, the style of music they list is similar to the kind played that night, and the age of the band is similar. If this is the same group, great; if not, my apologies: myspace.com/rockinronandthenewsocietyband.