Mike Chouinard

RIYL: Alvvays, Wild Ones, The Japanese House, Better Oblivion Community Center, Stars

It was perfect weather while leaving the East Bay to witness the sunny sounds of The Greeting Committee’s latest record, Everyone’s Gone And I Know I’m The Cause. That said, Divisadero was already fog-soaked before the doors opened at The Independent so the coat check would see no peace from a full load of Northface jackets and baggy ponchos.

Following their tour mates Toledo, the all clear signal was given and the crowd slowly stood to attention to “The End of the World” by Skeeter Davis. It was a fitting intro for a band who has unleashed a record of finely tuned, danceable pop songs containing themes like longing, self loathing, and broken relationships.

The seemingly sleepy Sunday crowd officially woke up halfway through song two (“Is This It”). And it was only this far in that vocalist Addie Sartino cemented her energy level that would be sustained for the night. The mic rarely would sit snug in its stand and instead was being bounced, hopped, and generally danced alongside its beholder. Another song or two in, I spotted multiple people yelling the lyrics of “Sex and Taxes” at friends who clearly didn’t know the words. This tactic easily worked, and songs with a scattering of crowd singers could ripple into more of a chorus.

Few instrument changes get a bigger roar than someone, in this case bassist Pierce Turcotte, grabbing a saxophone (“You’ve Got Me”). Guitarist Noah Spencer may be able to occasionally enable a power saving mode as the rest of his time towering over his bandmates is spent in berserker mode. He pushed the limits of the invisible fence he was stationed in like a lost member of The Hives. One of two newer additions with Spencer, was the kit was captained by Michah Richie. You wouldn’t be able to convince me that either person attached to the guitar or drums hadn’t been playing with founders Sartino & Turcotte since Day One.

I need to take a moment to announce how good “popmoneyhits” and “Where’d All My Friends Go” work back to back; they’re a setlist power couple. Do you know what gets a crowd amped more than someone taking charge of a seemingly decorative horn on stage? That same previously mentioned ever present vocalist ending up in the middle of the crowd to sing a verse. During “Cyclical”, two objects engaged in a fierce battle for my attention: a the man in the front row clad in a magenta sequin covered jacket versus Richie’s simmering pink pastel drum kit. There was no clear winner. Keeping up their ability to throw their spectators for a loop everyone gave another yell as Turcotte took a turn heading into the people with a tambourine in hand. Most shows see one orchestrated moment of crowd participation like this, TGC knew their audience and that one wouldn’t be enough at all.

And away into “How It Goes” they went. The track is without question what I have been playing the most from their new record. There’s a non-zero chance part of appeal comes from the fuzzy guitar and the smooth low to high vocals all bringing me back to the glory of Rooney’s debut album. Noah and Addie’s momentum became wildly contagious, leading to at least one tom, mic stand, and a pair of in-ear monitors going airborne. The band and crowd alike all took a breathe following what only the newest of concert-goer may have believed to be the final number. Be still my thirtysomething heart, they only made us stir for the legal minimum 60 seconds before returning. They barreled into “Pull It Together”, the room absorbed it all, and TGC didn’t look back.

Sneaking past everyone still catching their breath and muttering giddy praise I threw myself back outside into civilization. Being one of the Oakland residents who will never bring a second layer when crossing the bridge, I had about ten minutes to pace for warmth waiting for the bus. The solution was simple: get “Where’d All My Friends Go?” on repeat.

As the current tour winds down you may still be able to catch up to TGC if you’re in the Pacific Northwest. Or you can holdout for a trip to their home base of Kansas City, MO for their 10 Year Anniversary festivities. 

Remaining Tour Dates
8/6     Portland, OR @ Aladdin Theater
8/7     Vancouver, BC @ Biltmore
8/8     Seattle, WA @ Neumos
8/10   Salt Lake City, UT @ Soundwell
8/11   Denver, CO @ Bluebird
8/17   Kansas City, MO @ The Midland Theatre

Words by Mike Chouinard / DangerVenture
Photos by Nadine Ordaz / El Tiburón

Another weird and wacky weekend was upon us. Every Bay Area punk rocker’s favorite festival, Mosswood Meltdown, was here for another year, hosted by the filthy and cultish John Waters. The summer sun beat down hard as I arrived Saturday afternoon, my body ready for a long weekend of dancing and Bloody Marys. I took in the atmosphere as the opening act of Day One, Oakland’s very own Hot Laundry, danced synchronously in matching rockabilly dresses and beehive updos. The weekend was barely beginning, but I had already run into so many friends, to which my friend Sarah joked, “This is like our rock ‘n roll summer camp”. I strolled through the various pop-up shops and vendors selling merchandise before settling on an ube ice cream sandwich. The next band was Trap Girl, a trans-fronted punk group from Los Angeles, and they took to the stage in a fury. “This one is for all my bad bitches with a big dick!” roared frontwoman Drew Arriola-Sands. They steamrolled through their set, and at the end, brought out the legendary Lynn Breedlove from San Francisco queercore group Tribe 8 to do a cover of his song “Butch in the Streets”. This was a mind-blowing musical moment for me. 

The crowd was buzzing with excitement and anticipation for the next act, Cher Strauberry’s newest project Wifey. A departure from Cher’s usual ferocious hardcore punk, Wifey delivered dreamy bedroom pop in a short but sweet set. This was the perfect opening for the next band of the day. Go Sailor, the short-lived twee pop band from Northern California, was reunited for their first performance in 12 years, and they did not disappoint. Spirits were high in the crowd despite the heat, and everyone danced along nonstop. The group up next were no strangers to the Mosswood Meltdown scene. After an incredible introduction by John Waters, Pansy Division took their spots on stage. As another seminal queercore group from the Bay Area, the crowd was hyped, and you could easily see the band members feeding off that energy through their angry thrashing onstage. 

We took a break from the music to introduce to the main stage…Peaches Christ! Formerly an after party at Thee Stork Club, the Peaches Christ drag show was now a main event. I took a seat in the photo pit, buzzing with excitement, so I could be up close and personal with all the contestants. The first queen of the competition was Munster Mash from Austin, Texas. Donning a demented clown costume with colorful spikes, she lip synced to a song that began cute but quickly shifted into an intense metal performance. I had seen her earlier in the day, front and center, screaming along to Trap Girl. Next up was Mr. He, who was sporting adorable victory rolls and painted blue. She stripped down onstage from a jumpsuit down to sexy, red lingerie, revealing a very real-looking, silicone pregnant belly, all while singing live to her own original song. Bay Area drag king Papi Churro, with help from fellow king Meat Flap, marched confidently onto the stage with a prop cardboard wall. On the wall was a bunch of crude graffiti and a yellow brick road leading to a glory hole. Papi Churro was on his knees in front of the wall performing all sorts of crude acts on Meat Flap’s massive (and I mean massive) flesh-colored dildo before causing a silly string orgasm onto the audience.

Up next were two of three queens from the Tucson, Arizona drag group Tarp Queens, Zeena Karina and Piranha. Both were dressed in furry leotards and creepy cat makeup and began to dismember a giant doll (who vaguely resembled John Waters) from head to toe all while prancing around to various cat-themed songs, including the iconic “Kitty Girl” by Rupaul. Our final performance of the day came from longtime San Francisco queen, Raya Light, under the alter ego for the day, Taffy Davenpuss. She came out with a full body sunburn and bright green wig, lip syncing to “Blister in the Sun” by the Violent Femmes. She was dazed and out of it, and began eating her own peeling, sunburnt skin and blisters. After all these amazing performances, it was time for John Waters and Peaches Christ to name a winner . . . Papi Churro! He was crowned by the reigning Mx. Mosswood champion Kafka-X and given a huge $500 check. I thought this was an amazing addition to the festival, and I hope they do it again next year!

Now we were down to the final three acts of the day starting with Hunx & his Punx, another Mosswood veteran. Boasting members from other notorious Bay Area bands such as Shannon and the Clams and Gravy Train, Hunx set the scene by moaning into his microphone and throwing out a bunch of giant beach balls wearing underwear into the audience. “This one’s for all the straight guys who like to suck dick!” Hunx yells. The penultimate act of the day was longtime California punk outfit, Redd Kross. For their set, I was in the back on a picnic blanket with some friends enjoying the sunset and, finally, some cooler air. Unfortunately for the band, the sound levels never reached any louder than the tracks played in between acts, so it was hard for any of us to hear from our spot on the grass.

Finally, it was the time that everyone had been waiting for all day, the B-52s. After a quick and quirky video introduction from Fred Armisen, the band all strode onto the stage. I don’t think a single body was standing still throughout their entire one and a half hour long set. The energy was completely unlike anything I had experienced before. My friends and I were dancing and singing and smiling and laughing through each and every song. My friend showed me his tattoo inspired by their song “Mesopotamia” after they played it. I particularly enjoyed the stock footage of random cities and places playing on the screen during their hit “Roam” and the crowd erupted in laughter when they played a Family Guy clip during “Rock Lobster”, which they closed the night with. During the B-52s’ performance, it felt like time stood still, and we could all just let go of everything in our lives and just dance together.

The first act of Day Two that I caught was by the enigmatic Space Lady. From her humble beginnings as a street musician in San Francisco and armed with only a Casiotone MT-40 keyboard and a plastic viking hat, the Space Lady did not disappoint. The crowd at 1pm was small, but passionate. After her otherworldly set, everyone swarmed to her booth hoping to get her signature on a record. She was shocked at the fan reception.

Despite never having listened to them before, the next band, Die Spitz, was probably one of my favorites of the whole weekend. I was completely blown away by their music and stage presence. The lead singer looked like a porcelain doll with her ginger curls, white dress, and thick Texas accent. But when she opened her mouth to sing, out came a ferocious metal scream. For the first time all weekend, the mosh pit opened up and I was thrown around in the dirt and heat. During their last song, the lead singer climbed on top of a huge stack of speakers and flailed around — a proper finale to an incredible set. Despite having a tough act to follow up, New York City’s Bush Tetras headed to the stage next. Sporting sleek jumpsuits, these no-wave legends rocked the house. I could see some of the members of The Linda-Lindas on the side stage having an absolute blast.

Next in the lineup was a musician I had been looking forward to all weekend, The Egyptian Lover, one of the originators of west coast hip-hop sound. The hype man onstage was trying to get the crowd going but he kept getting frustrated by the response. After giving up on making us cheer, his set flowed from one song right into another until he got to what I had been waiting for — his cover of “I Need a Freak” by Sexual Harassment. The Egyptian Lover and his hype man struck a fierce pose as the 808 beat opened up the song and soon the crowd was bumping. I had an amazing time dancing in the hot sun with all of my friends. 

I joined some friends on the grass for a few games of cribbage before Gibby Haynes, of Butthole Surfers fame, took to the stage. His backing band was a group of teenage musicians from the Paul Green Rock Academy who already looked and acted like total rockstars. Their set consisted of almost entirely Butthole Surfers songs. With each distorted note and weird sound emerging from the stage I was more and more drawn in. The kids formed a kick line during a cover of Kenny Rogers’ “Just Dropped In” from The Big Lebowski, much to the surprise and joy of my friends and I. They were definitely one of my favorite acts of the day. 

Up next was another highly anticipated act amongst my friends and I, Big Freedia. Two of my friends working backstage with me and I had gone to see her in Berkeley way back in 2021, so we were excited to shake our asses again. She came out a bit late with three gorgeous dancers but the wait was worth it. Her set was short but full of energy (including a cover of Beyoncé’s “Break My Soul”), all culminating in a twerk contest between over 20 audience members. The mosh pit returned with Pure Hell, an OG punk band from Philadelphia. There were crowd surfers. The Hunx beach balls from Day One came back out to play. Every member of the band was wearing a piece of their own merch (and looking incredibly photogenic).

The weekend all culminated with The Mummies who crashed onto the stage driving a motorcycle chariot in full mummy wraps. I kinda lost my mind during their cover of “Uncontrollable Urge”. As The Mummies disrobed and made their way backstage, Allison Wolfe from Bratmobile, who had been DJing all weekend long in between sets, came onto the microphone trying to hype the audience up into an encore that never happened. Confused, stoned, and drunk, the punks of Mosswood Meltdown began to waddle out of the park and head home after a long weekend of dancing and debauchery. 

Hands down, Mosswood Meltdown is one of my favorite festivals I have ever been to, and I highly recommend anyone go if they haven’t yet already. The atmosphere is fantastic, the food is delicious, the bands are expertly picked and talented to boot. And where else will you witness the legendary John Waters? Thanks for another wonderful time Mosswood Meltdown.

Review by Sam Long
Photos by Jaida Berkheimer