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The Fish Schticks/ Bob Hay & The Jolly Beggars/ Allison Weiss/ Titans of Filth, PopFest 2008, Cine, 8/12/08

by Fran McDonald
08/13/2008

I have this tendency for tailoring my drinks orders according to the genre of music playing. This usually works out quite nicely. I order PBR for dirty rock music and whisky and coke for bluegrass. On the rare occasion I step into an 80s bar I limit myself to drinking complex cocktails that burn neon bright and redistribute my internal organs as soon as they hit the stomach. This is the opening night of Popfest 2008, and I am screwed.

Fish Schticks are first on the bill, and if they were a drink they would be twelve shots of vodka and a kick in the head. And then maybe a tall glass of lemonade. They are a fearsome looking foursome, there is neon war paint and bandanas and bareknuckled hubris. The lead singer has an appropriately Courtney Love tiara-white dress-pink tights-black army boots combo going on and when the first riff rips into the crowd it is clear that the Fish Schticks are the genuine article.

Lyrics are drowned in a sea of noise and it hits you with the velocity that causes your insides to literally vibrate. The Athens crowd are coaxed closer and by this time the band are unstoppable, vocals kick back in and we hear the singer shouting "I don't need your audience to give me courage" and it is impossible to not believe her swagger.

But for all the vodka and the abruptness there is a nostalgic sweetness to the Fish Schticks and their music. The drum kit is sat on an old rug and there is this basement cassette shoegazing garage band feel to the whole display. In between songs the two girls take it in turns to wax lyrical on the power and value of grrrl music. One song heavily features a cowbell and at one point I am pretty sure I can hear The Kinks in the bassline.

As the entire Athens crowd - audience and bands alike - pile outside for a communal smoke break I head to the bar to figure out which drink would best compliment Bob Hay and the Jolly Beggars. It's a toss up between whiskey and beer but I go for Terrapin because it is homegrown and moonshine apparently was unavailable.

The first thing you notice with Bob Hay is the guitars. Lots and lots of guitars. Or at least there was one. But the five-piece between them clutch a double bass, a violin, a mandolin (maybe, but at this point I am somewhat bluffing as my knowledge of stringed instruments is somewhat limited), a regular banged up old acoustic guitar and, satisfyingly enough, a banjo. Bob Hay clearly comes from the old Southern storytelling tradition, and his covering and toying with the poetry of Robert Burns' 16th century Scottish melodies is as innovative and exciting as it promises.

The narrative arc of the songs are brought to life by Hay's strange and alluring mimes. Later, he will produce a neon green flute from nowhere and the crowd will whistle. It is the kind of music that makes me want to collapse into foot-tappin' free-wheelin' word-abbreviatin' cliches whenever I talk about it. It is the kind of music that makes me want to wear a lumberjack shirt and a short denim skirt and dance in circles on dusty ground.

Appropriating Burns and restyling him in the American tradition of bluesy call and response refrains and ramshackle folk guitar melodies is inspired. And that is the point of folk music isn't it: it is designed to be passed down and rewritten and sung over and over again to new generations and new faces. And as far as storytellers go, you can't get much better than Bob Hay and the Jolly Beggars.

Smoke break number two, and the crowd is growing. Allison Weiss is on next, and my drink choice is complicated by the fact that up until about thirty minutes previously I was convinced I was about to see Alison Krauss. I play it safe with a PBR and head back in to the glorious liltings of Weiss, who is strumming furiously on a guitar that is about twice the size of her. In her scruffy ankle boots and pink rimmed glasses I can imagine she is the poster child for indie kids everywhere.

Her voice is impeccable and her music makes me want to sit on the floor crosslegged with a boy I like and play records. Her set list makes use of the good old Pixies loud soft loud soft technique, she alternates between acoustic songs and loud satisfying numbers in which she is backed by her band. During her quiet songs, the simple poetry of her lyrics take over the room ("Lying to keep me afloat, trying to keep my eyes closed") and it feels like I will never be able to look away from her face. During the loud ones, there is handclapping and the occasional smatter of synth and people seem to know all the words and I feel smug that I ordered PBR. I think I would quite like to go out for a drink with Allison Weiss. I even bought a T-shirt, it says "ALLISON WEISS IS OK I GUESS" on it and it is twee and retro and friendly and unpretentious and represents everything I liked about her set.

By now the entrance to Cine has disappeared under plumes of cigarette smoke. People are sitting on the floor and everyone is talking about Weiss. It seems that everyone likes her and if I'm going to be in with a chance of getting that drink with her I am going to have to resort to violence or bribery.

The last band is Titans of Filth. People who I know for a fact have no interest in music keep telling me that they are really good, but I have never heard of them and going solely off the name I order some whisky because it makes me violent and obnoxious and the name Titans of Filth sound violent and obnoxious. They are neither.

They sing perfect two and a half minute pop songs with deadpan humor and the audience is enraptured. They are what would happen if Weezer and The Violent Femmes had a secret lovechild. They are twee but their lyrics resonate and there is a small town, communal feel to their songs that make them the perfect bookend to Popfest's coming out party. My whisky went undrunk and I wished I had ordered something unpretentious and local with a turtle on the label.

As everyone emerged breathless and happy and a little bit drunk to smoke the final cigarette of the show and dissect the last two and a half hours, I am reminded why I am in love with Athens. Because it seems that everyone is brought together by a genuine open-minded interest in and love for music, all music. And Popfest is the perfect distillation of this Athenian quality, this drawing together of riot grrrl and old timey folk and geek chic and twee pop and drowned vocals and lyrical complexity and hard rock and roll riffs and soft banjo and handclaps. And that was only Day One.

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