My wife and I attended, and we began getting excited as we neared the fairgrounds where the three-day festival is held. Now in its eighth year, BottleRock, the high-profile wine country music festival, descended upon the Napa Valley this past Memorial Day weekend. So captivated and present are we that we fear no judgements. We may not even talk to each other, but we’ll feel comfortable enough among a sea of strangers to dance, sway, sing, close our eyes. For me personally, there’s no better way I can think of to connect with other members of our species. An opportunity to hear great music and cut loose. Everyone in attendance is looking for a good time.
But for a time, none of those things matter. They may believe in different gods of different colors.
But at secular concerts, people come together knowing very little about each other. At sporting events, there are normally two sides, and while those are fun, it’s a different kind of interaction. An element of tension or surprise is lacking. Churches provide communion for some, but everyone in attendance believes in the same entity. From then on, seeing live music – whether at a small jazz club, a large stadium concert or a music festival – became a regular and even necessary part of my life.Ĭoncerts, when they go well – and most of them do – present opportunities for communion with other humans in ways that other public events don’t. More rock and punk, but I liked Springfield’s song, “Jessie’s Girl.” Being in that crowd, on a warm summer night, taking sips of cheap beer out of plastic cups on the sly…well, that was it.
My sister’s friend had gotten us some tickets. Rick Springfield at the Concord Pavilion in Northern California. Rather, they serve as little more than a one-note percussive tool, which is disappointing considering how many other metal bands ensure that even their harshest vocals are intriguing melodically and show some degree of variation from composition to composition.In 1982, I attended my first music concert. They fit fine alongside the music, and they’re definitely impressive technically, but there’s nothing to cling to, if that makes sense. Sadly, the same can’t be said for the aforementioned screams, as they always sound identical and bland. Thankfully, Rysakov, Dubrovskiy, and Popov add enough tricky counterpoints and spiraling motifs on top of those foundations to give each track sufficient instrumental variety and weight (if only just barely). Of course, “Night Shine” closes the LP with static drones that stand as perhaps the most subdued yet arresting passage of the affair.Īround and within those sections, the group serves up your usual blend of guttural dismay (effectively backed by cleaner singing in a few places) and thrashing riffs and rhythms.
Later, “Shores” veers in a matching direction-but with a bit more sophistication-whereas “Dorian” offers a sharper and denser calm halfway in. For example, follow-up “Beast” uses echoey guitar arpeggios, dismayed syncopation, and chilling ambiance to yield cosmic catharsis amidst the hecticness. Fortunately, Nug continues to craft comparably affective passages as the album progresses. It’s a testament to how some of the most haunting and lingering music is often quite simple and impressionistic. Nug (Photo provided by Willowtip Records)Īs its name suggests, “The Birth” introduces the journey as a concisely traumatic piece: mournfully cautionary tones swell beneath programmed upswings of panic and tension, symbolizing the sort of inner conflict and cognitive dissonance that would arise from extreme mental turmoil.
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