Jam on the River (Nate's Take): One Fulfilling Philly Weekend

I just enjoyed a fantastic weekend in Philadelphia where I attended the much anticipated Captain Morgan’s Jam on the River featuring The Disco Biscuits, The Flaming Lips, and Lotus. It was a relaxing time filled with great music, positive people, and unparalleled hospitality by the family of this blog’s co-author, with whom I stayed. I was once again reminded of the calming and optimistic effects music can have not only on an individual, but on an entire culture that is willing to embrace an atmosphere of perpetual happiness.

Saturday afternoon we arrived at Festival Pier just in time catch Bassnectar working the thousands in attendance into a spontaneous dance party with his progressive form of techno and energetic stage presence. I have never been one to get into a live performance from a DJ--preferring the visibility and growth of live music—but Bassnectar’s connection with the crowd and obvious passion for his music gave me a new appreciation of electronica.

After the set I was finally able to take a tour of the pier, and was absolutely fascinated by the cultural community that had literally sprung up overnight in what would normally be an empty parking lot. There was a large tent filled with a wide variety of vendors offering the drug-filled crowd an array of psychedelic jewelry, t-shirts, and art to explore. There were bars offering those who lacked a legitimate tailgate session (but didn’t lack a fat wallet) Captain and Cokes for seven dollars a pop. The scene was social; a steady buzz of conversation filled the venue and few seemed not to be thoroughly enjoying themselves. The crowd was a demographic I was not familiar with but one that I quickly found I related to and understood. The urban jam scene would be my most accurate portrayal. A crowd of college kids with a passion for both Phish and Notorious B.I.G. Oversized-sunglass-wearing liberals with Grateful Dead t-shirts fashionably complimenting their brand new flat-brimmed New Era hats, worn sideways with a confidence that borders on arrogance. City hippies. It was all new to me, and then I was introduced to the culprit behind the culture: The Disco Biscuits.

They came on and immediately broke into a mind-blowing jam of Wizards of Winter, beginning the song as a well-structured piece of classically-influenced music and evolving into a danceable soundscape filled with synthesizer solos and the pulsing energy that has become the bands trademark. The musicianship was staggering, the dedication of the fans admirable, and the show powerful. Before I knew it, I found myself completely immersed in the “trance-fusion” experience and was dancing like a crazed tripping hippie at Woodstock. And I wasn’t alone. By the time The Biscuits finished their second set I was drained of energy and thinking that my $40 ticket had already paid itself off.

And then there were The Flaming Lips. I was expecting a bizarre band with an emphasis on experimentation, but never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined what was to come.Thats right, a crowd-surfing lead singer encapsulated in a plastic bubble. A twenty foot Santa Clause dancing opposite an equally enormous alien. Full frontal nudity for the entirety of a song as five women danced around on stage showing their love of being naked (though unfortunately not their love of razors). Enough confetti to make New Years in Times Square look like a five year-old's birthday party. The Flaming Lips did not put on a concert, they put on a circus. A spectacle of dramatic proportions. It was a celebration that originally filled me with a spontaneous feeling of youthful happiness, but as the show went on my fatigue compounded with the lack of quality music to make me annoyed at the bands performance. The headliners were as original as they come, but the priority of placing sensory overload over auditory delight quickly elevated my disappointment.

Following Saturday’s show we returned to the homey suburban residence of John and continued the celebration into a deep drunken summer slumber. Sunday morning we ventured into some (semi) secret hills of fairmount park before returning to the show, but I think I’ll let John get his ten cents in and give our loyal readers (if such a description exists) his own account of the weekend, including one of his soon to be famous reviews of Lotus' dramatic closing to the festival (visit magnetmagazine.com and check out John’s first published review of The Black Keys).

p.s. Don't trust hot tripping hippie bitches who say they are cold with your favorite shirt, even if they promise to bring it back at the end of the show

All photos c/o Screamin' Andy Beam