Super Bock Super Rock 2012 - the music

I'm back! I had the chance to see some amazing shows at Super Bock Super Rock. I had never been to a music festival for more than a single night, so my experience this time was really different: I felt I connected to the music in a much more visceral way. I could just go from one concert to another, even from a band or an artist I had never heard of before, be sucked in by the sound almost immediately, and dance and share in the feel of the moment. 

Of course my favourite concerts were still those by artists whose songs I knew and loved already. The connection you develop from listening many times, taking advice from, and generally interacting personally with their music (often more than you do with real people - the songs won't judge you, an they show you you're never alone) is so wide and deep that your heart just keeps leaping and jumping and soaring and flying while they are performing. I don't think saying that musicians often play the role of demi-gods is going to far: most people do experience a kind of catharsis due to music, and certainly idolise them for being able to express more about our inner lives than we ourselves.

The sum of these two types of experience - the open fun of dancing and smiling to refreshing songs and the emotional pull of seeing some of my favourites perform - made me feel everything in a more complete way.

The first day, the effect of the music was impressive. I was feeling, for a variety of reasons, miserably nervous and distressed; however, as the evening progressed, I forgot and let go of everything that was bothering me. Time flew by without me ever feeling tired or out of place.


The energy and warmth of the Alabama Shakes' concert certainly contributed to make me feel at ease. Their music comes straight from a weary, but joyful, acceptance of life, and they are natural, sincere performers on stage.

I then saw a bit of Bloc Party's concert, which was certainly absorbing and got me dancing. I was sorry to go, but I really wanted to see Bat for Lashes at the secondary stage, and I was not disappointed. She  and her music (of course) are the most entrancing mix of light and darkness: sensuous, honey-voiced, moving in sweet abandon between hope and despair, with a flow of sounds (a powerful use of drums and keyboard) that balances theatrical antics and self-expression. Listening to Travelling Woman that night was one of those crisp moments of realisation that inspired me to make some peace with my own mind. (I will definitely write about it later.) Her new songs seem to have a slightly happier, more danceable tonality - I liked them and look forward to her new album.

After seeing Incubus perform their classic (Drive, better known as that song that goes 'Whatever tomorrow brings I'll be there...'), I surprised myself by being gripped into a state of thoughtlessness by Battles. I generally hate electronic music, but for once I got into it, maybe because of their strong use of fast-changing bright, colourful images, of their attractive presence on stage, and of the structured feel of their music.

The second night, the first act I saw was the main one - the controversial Lana del Rey. My opinion? She is a dream-catcher and producer; she weaves an appealing fantasy world for many people of my generation, and that is an achievement to be praised. Her artificiality is not a bad thing: the emotions she sings about are all too human, and the shiny gloss she adds to them allows the listener to find a meaning in common experiences - isn't that one of the purposes of music and art in general?


I liked her show - her coy shyness, 'perfect' prettiness, good voice and diva-like poses are seductive to watch - but I think she loses some of her mellow shine when performing live. Besides, it was much too short (45 minutes leaves you wanting more).

I then danced for the rest of the night: first, to Oh Land's sweet, happy and very colourful pop (a pleasant surprise); then to Friendly Fires (devilishly Summery music), and finally to MIA, with her powerful mix of sonorities and god-like stage presence. It was great fun!

The last night started with Perfume Genius - a quiet, sensitive type who sang ballads and looked a bit like a young, blond Morrissey -, who gave a very nice early evening show.

I was touched by Peter Gabriel's show with his New Blood Orchestra. The orchestra made all of the songs sound majestic, and I liked it that he read a few critical excerpts on politics and society. Of course, my favourite moment was his duet with Regina Spektor singing Aprés Moi.

St. Vincent's show was also impressive - her broken-doll figure, twisty movements and devil-may-care attitude made her riveting to watch, particularly when she crowd-surfed! 

The concert I most enjoyed was definitely Regina Spektor's, which was the last one I saw. She is one of my very  favourites: I have listened to her songs almost daily since I was fourteen, and keep finding new layers of meaning in the lyrics and new forms of beauty in the sounds. I had already seen her live, and been amazed. This time, though she played less songs and none of her endearing back catalogue curiosities (she kept to the singles and to songs from the last two albums), it was even a more intense experience because I was literally in the front row, which I had never been before! She (and her band) played beautifully, and her attitude on stage is the definition of sweet, which is something I admire.


The audience was a strange mix of Regina Spektor fans, excitedly singing every word and interacting with Regina - the most beautiful moment was, for me, when she sang "For all the friends that we have lost/Let's give them one more round of applause" and the audience started clapping and Regina looked so moved -, and Skrillex fans waiting for his performance afterwards. It was really a very poor decision by the organisation to put two artists that are so different performing one after the other. I found the Skrillex fans' attitude really disrespectful: they kept complaining about having to wait, asking for the time, making unpleasant comments on Regina, and generally looked very bored/almost asleep. Except for that, the concert was perfect!

All in all, it was a great musical experience I hope to repeat!

Of course you've changed, you've changed, your mind's been rearranged

Every Summer, the same thing happens: the structure lent to my life by school crumbles apart and friendships are suddenly exposed to the harsh light of our human failings - laziness, selfishness, fear, disinterest. We strive to believe the lies we tell each other - "I miss you", "I can't wait to be with you", and the like -, but these are shown to be a sham by our lack of actual effort to share and communicate with each other. 

It is my fault as well, I am not a hopeless victim of circumstances beyond my control: I know I tend to live very much inside my own head, and that I often choose to stay home reading something interesting instead of going out (mostly, this is a passive choice of not inviting people to go out, not an active choice of refusing invitations). And then, of course, friendship requires effort. It must be nourished and fed, otherwise it dies away in a surprising short time.

And then there is that sickening little jolt when you are walking up the stairs in the dark, expecting another step where there isn't any, and you feel, for a milisecond, that you're doomed. Poof! Your friends? Gone. Strangers with the same physical appearance - often not even that - have taken their place, and look at you through bleary eyes, and new tonalities fill their voices as they talk of the distant land of their lives.

You can just picture them, at that moment, following the small steps of some sterotypical existence which fits their social position and apparent disposition. Sure, you wish them happiness, but in an empty way which is not at all like the personal, shared fever of the "once upon a time" of that particular friendship.

Maybe the issue here is that, in our personal relationships, we tend to suppose others - and yourself - will stay the same, so that you can carry on sharing indefinitely. It is part of our ever-present desire for immortality. But life is not a museum, and people will always be swerved in different directions by diverging pressures, and make different choices. In this way, they will take different shapes: the "self" is not fixed, it is simply the sum total of experiences and genetic background. 

I suppose it is a good thing that the Summer gives us a chance to get some perspective on our relationships, to analyze other people's behaviour and to decide if we want to let them go or cling to them. The lack of the artificial constraints of school life gives freedom to make these important choices. This year, as school is gone for good, the perspective I get is particularly unclouded; and I know that, from now on, all the friendships I have made will require even more effort to stay alive.

Still, it does not fill me with joy to be disappointed, to find faults which I cannot overlook and which stop me from trusting, and even make me question if I ever knew them. I don't like losing people; but it is unavoidable. 

Regina Spektor's What We Saw From the Cheap Seats

Isn't she pretty?

Regina Spektor is one of my favourite musicians/ singers/songwriters. Her lyrics are very literary and take on a huge variety of different topics (seriously, you would say Regina has lived a thousand lives...) in a vivid and sensitive way; her voice is really rich in emotion and, due to her accent, quite distinctive; and her combination of classical piano with contemporary beats really sets her apart. I like the way her music can be both playful and tragic, often almost at the same time - it really rings true to life (at least, to my perception of it).

I like the album cover: simple, in red and black
(a colour combination I like), and Regina wearing
 a silly/awesome cap.

Her new album What We Saw From the Cheap Seats has just come out and it has been colouring my studying/daydreaming (two activities which mix so well that I am unable to say where one begins and the other starts!). Compared to her early albums, it is much softer around the edges, with a clean, luscious production, no strange yelps or unpredictable vocal twists, and no macabre lyrics, but it is still a very lovely and personal output with that blend of upbeat mood and melancholy which her music encapsulates and reflects my own emotional outlook. 

Four of the songs (Small Town Moon, Don't Leave Me, Patron Saint, and Open) are studio versions of songs she had already played live, the rest are new material. Right now, my favourites are:

Small Town Moon 

very close to how I feel about my future at the moment, now that I am waiting to start anew. Giddy excitement and fear and apprehension live close together.

How can I leave without hurting every one who made me? 

All the Rowboats 

a song about museum pieces being locked away forever and trying to escape; it can be read as criticism to our obsession with conserving the past, or to the way we desire to reach eternity, which is cold and lifeless. I like its eeriness.

On the other hand, I really dislike Ballad of a Politician - it sounds very unpleasant to me, even though its criticism of political power and how it is reached is spot on. Maybe it will eventually grow on me, though - it has happened before (I disliked Dance Anthem of the 80's when I first listened to to it, but it grew to become very relevant to my own experiences and I eventually listened to it countless times). The rest of the songs are quite good, and I suppose I will go through phases of listening over and over to at least some of them depending on what's happening in my life. 

Overall, it is definitely worth a listen. I am really glad to have some new songs by Regina to explore: getting to know their textures is a joy to me, and listening to them is like having a cool friend - both wise and fun - speak to you of her life experiences.