Oh Say Can You (O)cie: Heartfelt Folk from the Great White North

It’s been a scorcher of a week — hot and oppressively humid like you expect once the dog days arrive (mine is snoring loudly at my feet having already exhausted himself after running around for 10 min in the 85 degree heat at 7am) — so wanted to drop in with something cool and lovely to balance things out. (Not a Bellini — you can/should make those on your own. I’ll wait…) This one comes in the form of a couple of Canadians — both in the sense that there are two of them (Jon Middleton and Sierra Lundy) and that they are a romantic item to boot.

This latter detail is worth mentioning not because it’s any of our business (though I wish them all the best), but because of the intimate, almost confessional, sense they give the songs and the incredible way their two voices meld when singing harmonies — something that would be hard for mere strangers to pull off. They perform as Ocie Elliott — the moniker’s front half a product of translating Middleton’s name to its 1920s equivalent, the latter a nod to one of their (and my absolute) faves, the late, great Elliott Smith. That last bit is instructive as the duo channel Elliott’s quieter, earlier fare when it was just him and an acoustic guitar, flaying you with his emotional lyrics and beautiful melodies while he sang scarcely above a whisper. Middleton and Lundy don’t display any of Elliott’s darker, angrier aspects — their songs tend to focus more on the positive, encouraging aspects of love and relationships thus far — but the melodies and harmonies are as warm and inviting as his so often were.

The pair have released a bunch of material the past few years — depending on how you catalog these things, they’ve released 5 or 6 EPs or a couple short albums with a handful of equally long EPs in between — but regardless of how you count what matters is there are a TON of good songs in here.  (They’re nominated for the “breakthrough artist/group” award at this year’s Junos.) From “I Got You, Honey” and “Raincoat” off 2018’s EP to “Run to You” and “Stay, Love” off 2019’s We Fall In or “Thinking About You” and “Anymore of Anything” from 2020’s In That Room, the two are relatively prolific. (There’s roughly 40 songs scattered across those “albums”/EPs, best I can tell.) During the pandemic the two were releasing a new song or two every couple of weeks, leaning into the lockdowns to continue turning out really pretty music. I’m excited to see what they come up with next — in the meantime indulge in the opening track from that debut EP (a perfect little five song gem in its own right), the downright delicious “Down by the Water.”

We’ll take a turn towards slightly darker territory now, as I watched the new three-part documentary that just showed up on Netflix, Trainwreck: Woodstock ’99. I’ve written about my experience there before and think on par this one does a slightly better job than the HBO doc on the festival — for one they’ve got interviews with the concert’s primary organizers, Michael Lang and John Scher, as well as a slew of workers and MTV personalities who were there, providing key context (and contrast) to the former pair’s (still) glossier recollections of things.  It also does a better job attributing blame for why things went down the way they did — it wasn’t primarily (or solely) the predestined result of pent-up racism and misogyny as the HBO doc frequently implies, but rather what every person who was there at the time immediately assumed: greed.

Sure, bad planning, failed services, and an almost willful ignoring of problems once they arose contributed to things getting out of hand (as well as some of the issues that come with having such a brotastic base of concertgoers), but those all stem from the central decision shown here that This Will Make a Profit (and an impressive one at that). That led to corners being cut across each of the eventual problem areas — food and water pricing and availability, trash pickup and restroom services, security and emergency responses, etc etc etc. Each of these failed in painful and spectacular ways over the three days, reinforcing and impacting each other like a flaming house of cards, but would never have been as bad if such a priority wasn’t placed on making fistfuls of cash above all else.

The film hits a lot of the key memories I have from that weekend and wrote about before — the oppressive heat, the endless miles of concrete, and the inability to escape the sun. The unfathomable filth and grime, the lack of water, and the skyrocketing prices for anything that might fill you up or cool you down. The oceans of bros and painted breasts as far as the eye could see, the undulating waves of both during blistering sets by Korn and Limp Bizkit, and the growing amount of destruction and mayhem that cropped up in their wake. What it misses in its laudable deconstruction of what went wrong is another element that remains notable all these years later, the thing that drove people there in the first place — the music.

In spite of all the terrible things that happened that weekend, the lineup was/is pretty darn good and there were some fantastic performances from the artists over the three days. The doc covers a number of them, but leaves out some key ones — DMX’s blistering set, the Chemical Brothers at the peak of their powers, Rage and Metallica’s thunderous (and almost equally volatile, especially for the former) continuation of Bizkit’s hard rock Saturday. (I’ve still never seen anything like the response during the Korn/Bizkit sets — truly unforgettable, whether you like the music or not.)

Having more of a focus on the music that was occurring in the midst of all the chaos would actually have provided a better account of the push-pull dynamic that eventually sent things spiraling out of control. (Like the wobbling sound tower shown here that was slowly rocked back and forth before finally toppling over.)  You’d see an amazing performance or two, but then be confronted by one of the many aforementioned ills — lines, walks, prices, trash, etc — which would rev people up and piss them off. But then you’d see another amazing set or two and calm back down. As soon as that was done though you’d be confronted by those ills again and get revved right back up. Over and over again for three days straight in 100 degree heat. It was this endless cycle of up and down, up and down that eventually sent things over the edge as each of the aforementioned problem areas continued to fray alongside, but to gloss over some of that music diminishes some of the impact.

All told, though, the filmmakers do a good job and hit the majority of the thoughts/points I have as someone who was there, so would say it’s worth the watch. (My skin started crawling midway through the first episode and it took a couple hours to calm down after the series was over, so clearly still have some subconscious PTSD 20+ years later.) That Chemicals set kept popping into my head as I was watching, so figured it was worth digging up — even the security guards were getting into it!  Give it a ride (and get into it yourself) below:


We’ll close with some quick hitters to round out the weekend — first up are a couple of quick reads, the first a retrospective of the Rolling Stones’ albums in celebration of their 60th anniversary, courtesy of the AV Club. They do a good job running through the band’s voluminous catalog and while I may quibble with some of the ordering at the top (Sticky Fingers and Some Girls would be higher in my list) I think they get it mostly right. (And most important for lists such as these, it gives you a reason to go back to these albums to enjoy the abundance of great songs and come up with your own argument for how you’d rank them!)

Speaking of bands with abundant catalogs, this article from FLOOD has beloved GBV frontman Robert Pollard picking ten of his favorite songs from the band’s recent relentless hot streak. (Their latest, Tremblers and Goggles by Rank, will likely show up here in a few months…) Similar to the Stones list, I think it does a good job hitting a bunch of the highlights (and honestly, who am I to disagree with Doctor Bob — he wrote the damned songs!), so for those of you who for whatever reason haven’t listened to any of the songs I’ve posted here over the years (or read any of the writeups) listen to the doctor and give them a spin. (And while I mostly agree, I think songs like “Goodbye Note” and “Kid on a Ladder” are better options from albums he named, while “Space Gun” and “Tenth Century” are solid tracks from ones he left out — just in case you need MORE reasons to love this band!)

Last up comes a solid set from the legendary Belgian brothers who perform as Soulwax — aka 2 Many DJs. I caught part of their set under the latter banner last weekend at the Low Festival in Spain and that got me diving down the rabbit hole of their other live sets, as I couldn’t find that one to post for you all. (Low blow, Low…) This one’s a solid stand-in, though, as it showcases the brothers’ effortless ability to weave together classic tunes from all over the music map and create an irresistible groove. This one’s got the Bee Gees, Jungle, Lil Wayne, Felix da Housecat, Fontaines DC, and Tame Impala (to name just a few) and is a total smoker. Had a little dance party at the house multiple times during the week while it was on, so hopefully it brings a little boogie to your borough, too. Check it out below (and go see these two if you can — they rarely tour, so it’s worth the effort to travel if they’re nearby — I promise…)

That’s all for now — until next time, amici… –BS

Got (Woodstock) ’99 Problems — Postcards from the Edge

Finally recovered from the America-inspired bender I went on for the 4th, celebrating my freedoms and global superiority to the max — just in time to do it again for the Olympics! Before I go back down the rabbit hole, though, had a few items worth sharing to serve as an alternative to the anthem for the forthcoming fortnight. First, had a chance to watch the new HBO documentary on Woodstock 99 last night, the aptly named Woodstock 99: Peace, Love, and Rage, and like the festival it portrays, it’s a bit of a mixed bag.

Things it gets right — there were a lot of bros. A LOT of bros. I believe a study conducted afterward by the prestigious Boston School of Zoology & Migratory Travel determined that 87% of the world’s bro population was present at the festival that weekend, making it the third largest gathering of a single species last century. And they were mostly white. And gropey. And they really enjoyed the more aggressive, harder bands that headlined each night. (The Offspring and Korn the first, Limp Bizkit, Rage, and Metallica the second.)

As someone who was there I can verify these things are all true — also, my GOD was it hot. And dirty. As I was watching I started to get flashbacks and my skin started crawling as I have never been so consistently hot, filthy, and uncomfortable as I was that weekend.  The 100 degree temperatures, the miles and miles of concrete you walked on between stages and sets, the lack of shade or ability to cool down at night. You were camping out in tents or your car, remember — if you could recall where the hell yours was, that is — as the surroundings continued to radiate the day’s heat and you tried to sleep while covered in sweat and grime from the day’s activities.

Add in the soupy morass of piss and shit you had to wade thru as you tried to refill your water and/or rinse some of the grime off you meant you had a lot of people who basically baked for three days straight, stewing in their own juices (if not throwing in loads of mind-altering booze and chemicals on top of that to really perfect the recipe). I remember the promoters turning hoses on the crowd to try and cool them down during the day, but when you’ve got hundreds of thousands of people that only goes so far (and lasts so long).

By the time the weekend was done I had definitely gotten heat stroke — the sun was so incessant (and my attempts to hide from it so ineffective) that my head had swelled about an inch in size. (I discovered this fact when I got back to my buddy’s house and sneezed after that first amazing shower, at which point I felt my entire scalp slide forward like it was riding on a slip and slide — which essentially it was, as my head had started stockpiling whatever moisture it could find up top in an attempt to protect my brain. The picture I took upon realizing this shows my forehead jutting out like Frankenstein, which I found simultaneously hilarious and horrifying.)

So all of that was true and made for a pretty uncomfortable concert-going experience. It was hot, it was dirty, and there were a ton of white bros roaming around. (Also true, there were a TON of topless women — I had forgotten about the tents doing the skin art, but that led to an endless array of women walking around with paint shirts on. I honestly saw more breasts that weekend than I think I have in the subsequent 20 years combined.)

What the documentary gets wrong is when it tries to portray the festival as this overtly aggro/aggressive/racist/misogynistic thing that was doomed to devolve the way it did. Yes, there were a lot of hard rock acts on the bill — but there were also ones like Counting Crows, Dave Matthews, Brian Setzer, Bruce Hornsby, Elvis Costello, and Rusted Root, which are about as far to the opposite side of the spectrum as you can get. Yes, the lineup was skewed more towards more white male-led rockers — but there were also bands like The Roots, Ice Cube, Wyclef, and George Clinton, in addition to the iconic performance by DMX and the three females (Alanis, Jewel, and Sheryl Crow) noted in the documentary. (And as at all festivals they were butting right up against each other — the two acts that preceded the Chili Peppers on that closing night were Creed and Jewel, which has to be among the more bananas transitions in styles and fan bases you’re ever going to see.)

Yes, there was a an uncomfortable amount of groping of women crowdsurfers (and turns out full-on assaults, which was not apparent to us at the time) and a whoooole lotta white people shown saying the N-word in response to DMX’s exhortations — but portraying it as some liberating release of pent-up racism and rapiness isn’t fair or accurate.  All of which makes it sound like I’m defending the festival or saying what happened was acceptable (or enjoyable) — I would no sooner go to this again than I would condone the actions of the idiots who torched the place, looted things, and/or assaulted the female concertgoers. I just don’t think you can say those things were destined to happen and/or caused by some broader societal tolerance of misogyny and racism. (For every asshole/idiot who acted unacceptably there were an equal number if not hundreds more who did not, which diminishes the argument for predestination and inevitability.)

Avoidable? Potentially. Something to be held accountable for? Absolutely. (Although 20 years on this is something the promoters still seemed largely unable to do — in their telling this was a Fred Durst (and maybe MTV) problem vs anything they could have done better.)

So while I wouldn’t do it again, I don’t regret going either.  I remember some fantastic performances — DMX’s in particular stands out (a point validated by rewatching his set after his sudden passing recently). I remember the vast carpet of humanity undulating like a wave during Limp Bizkit’s set — the first time I’d ever seen that happen. (And still probably the largest — it went on FOREVER, just like waves in the actual ocean, which you can get glimpses of in the documentary.) I remember that Saturday bloc of Bizkit, Rage, and Metallica being a pretty epic close to a pretty decent day. (I had forgotten about the plywood surfers until I watched this, but there were LOADS of em out during that stretch, which is another memory.) I remember driving out while the Chili Peppers were playing, as the bonfires started to multiply and things really started to disintegrate. And I remember being hot, dirty, and wanting to shower really, really bad. That, and Frankenstein forehead and nearly boiling my brain.

All in all a fun trip down memory lane! (Eye roll) Worth a watch, though, if only to appreciate how far we’ve come at our festivals since then. (The occasional Fyre Fests notwithstanding…)


We’ll close with a couple new tracks that caught my ear the past couple weeks — first up comes the latest from Woods, whose deluxe release of last year’s Strange to Explain (which landed at #13 on last year’s best of list) came out Friday. It sports five new tracks including this one, “Nickels and Dimes” — give it a listen here:

Next comes the latest from the poppier side of some Norwegian death metalers, Beachheads, who released the single “Jupiter” recently. It’s a bright, catchy little tune — no word on if it’s part of an upcoming release or not, but am glad to have it either way.  See what you think here:

Up third is the rolling celebration for the Indiana label Secretly Canadian’s 25 anniversary, which has spawned some solid singles where their acts offer deep cuts and/or special covers to help raise funds to combat homelessness in their hometown of Bloomington. It’s a good cause that’s yielded some good tunes, including Jim James’ recent cover of Steve Miller, “Seasons.” This early one from Jason Molina’s first Songs:Ohia album is the one that’s gotten stuck in my head, though — a solid tune from someone gone too soon. Check out “Gauley Bridge” here:

Someone else looking back is Pile frontman Rick Maguire who decided to spend part of his pandemic revisiting old songs and demos of the band, recreating and re-envisioning them for a solo album, the upcoming Songs Known Together, Alone. One of those tracks was the first thing he recorded for the band, the demo “Build a Fire,” which he delivers this time as a lovely piano ballad. Really interested in how the rest of the album turns out — in the meantime give this one a ride:

We’ll close with one last band deciding to dive into the archives, Wye Oak, whose album Civilian turned 10 this year. As part of that re-release the band went back to a couple outtakes and demos from those sessions and unearthed this one, the excellent “Electricity.” It would have sounded perfect alongside existing album tracks, harnessing the power and urgency of the band in this era — still my favorite of their many incarnations.  See what you think here:

That’s it for now — until next time, amici…
–BS