Yikes, I think my old age is really starting to catch up with me.  The cobwebs surrounding the old brain pan have grown increasingly thicker and I more and more I find myself forgetting the, er, important things in life.  Thus, the idea of writing about an already alcohol clouded event nearly a week and a half (yes I know, my fault entirely) afterward is a fairly daunting proposition.  But for you, Sound on the Sound’s loyal readers, I’ll excavate the shattered remnants of my smoother-by-the-day gray matter to at least dredge out a few solid memories.

As always, thanks for reading.

Craig Finn, happier ‘n shit :: Photo by Josh

1.  In comparision to day one, day two of Block Party was an oasis of calm in terms of crowd size.  If I’d decided against returning for day two, I’d have left Block Party thinking that after three years, I might have to bade goodbye to the festival.  Day one was a swamp of drunken, underaged hipsters that you literally had to part to do anything.  It was frustrating and suffocating and took away from the experience in all ways.  Day two on the other hand was still crowded, but for whatever reason (no Girl Talk?  no Vampire Weekend?) it was completely bearable.  You could find friends, lines for the crapper were at a minimum - it was damn near civilized.  Block Party organizers take note: day one - painful; day two - slightly refreshing.

2.  For whatever reason The Cave Singers have sort of faded in to obscurity lately.  Blame it on the massive hype of another, somewhat similar Seattle band (ahem, Fleet Foxes, cough), but I haven’t heard, or even thought of the sweet Appalachian croons of Pete Quirk in a dog’s eye.  Luckily, I rushed through my mandatory three PBRs in the back of my van, so I could sprint to the Main Stage and catch three songs of their wildly impressive set.  I always imagined Mr. Quirk to be a dark, depressed man, but bearded and sporting a tank-top he seemed like the epitome of a friendly, bantering frontman.  Washboards were played, somber lyrics were song, the audience swayed as only a Seattle audience can - all in all a great way to start the day.

Well, I didn’t see this awesome part of Builders and the Butchers :: Photo by Josh

3.  As long as the subjects been broached: Fleet Foxes, I’m bored.  I love you guys, I’ve been hyping your shit since you broke out at SXSW, hell for a minute Keyboardin’ Casey was actually responding to my emails, but the last few times I’ve beared witness to your harmonic barage, I’ve been, I don’t know, disappointed?  It still sounds beautiful.  Robin Pecknold still has a face like a bear, and a voice like an angel, but it feels practiced now, rehearsed even, and that’s sad to me.  There was something so primal and organic about this music the first time I heard it, and maybe it’s the nature of the overplayed music, it just always seems the same now.  Don’t get me wrong, I’ll still buy your albums, I’ll still attend your shows, I just want the heart-wrenched emotion (see: Bon Iver) I know you’ve got in there somewhere.

4.  I’m really a terrible music writer when it comes down to it.  I told as many people as I could that The Builders and The Butchers were going to be the show of the festival.  I interview Ryan Sollee, I invited peeps to meet me at Neumos, I was fucking pree-pared to catch me some Builders and The Butchers and love the shit out of it … … … and then in a drunken stupor I saw that there was a line, turned directly around and found the nearest dispensary of booze I possibly could find, a continued what would end up being a near twelve-day bender.  I’m glad I at least guided some of you lucky folk in the right direction, and you better be damn sure that I’ll up front and center for their August 20th show at The Sunset.

This your brain on Chromeo :: Photo by Josh

5.  I watched Chromeo from a sitting position.  And as there are no seats at Block Party, I sat on a curb many many many feet away from the stage, staring at the fleshy legs of fellow concert attendees.  And you know what?  Chromeo still rocked.  They’re sort of fratty, melodic electronica was perfect for the waning hours of the day.  P-Thugg and Dave 1 kept the party rocking through out the whole set, and the visibly frantic mass of pre-twenty year olds celebrated in a restrained, enjoyable style.  Kudos to you Chromeo for completely kicking my expectations to the curb.

6.  Craig Finn, though I remember almost nothing of your set, you seemed very enthusiastic.  I remember you being very sweaty, and yelling many excited things at the crowd.  At times your face was so red I thought your head might pop, but in the end, if I remember correctly (which certainly I don’t) you performed admirably and no part of your body exploded.  Great stuff, really just fantastic stuff.

7.  That hazy little nugget is pretty much my last memory of Capitol Hill Block Party ‘08.  After this I believe many more beers were consumed, I was yelled at by someone important, pictures were taken in a small booth, and I may or not have swayed arm in arm with some sort of group of people I may or may not have known.  I think I’ll just mark this year up as another success!

In terms of my Capitol Hill Block Party recommendations from last week, none was higher than my push for our loyal readers to head towards The Builders and the Butchers’ Saturday afternoon set.  Though, for reasons I’m still trying to piece together I missed the recommended set, I caught The Builders’ impressive live show earlier this year down in Portland, and absolutely couldn’t believe my eyes or ears.  Now, many months and many, many spins of their debut LP later, they’ve quickly elevated to the small group of bands I tenatively deem “favorites”.

Ryan Sollee, lead singer and guitarist for the motley, sometimes-fivesome was nice enough to give some solid answers to a few of my more burning questions on the more literary aspects of the Portland music scene, where the darkness in his music comes from, and oh so much more.

Enjoy.

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Ryan Sollee :: Photo by kirstiecat

SOUND ON THE SOUND: First of all, where exactly does the name The Builders and The Butchers come from?

Ryan Sollee: It took us about 6 months to come up with the name, originally the band was called The Funeral Band, but we knew we needed another name. I think it’s this way with most bands, it’s the only name nobody hated.

SOTS: How did The Builders and The Butchers come together originally?

RS: My friend Adrienne (Autopilot is for Lovers) and I wanted to start writing darkly themed songs to be played acoustic for people at large gatherings. I think the original idea for the band and what it has become is very different, we had a handfull of songs written and started played one night at the house where the rest of the guys live. From there we practiced for about a month and played our first shows at Halloween house parties and outside a Bob Log III show.

SOTS: How did you decided upon your onstage set-up? I saw you guys at The Willamette Week Best New Band Showcase and was blown away by the usage of two auxiliary percussionists?

RS: Since our first shows we’ve had the two drummers, it wasn’t ever talked about, one day Paul just put the bass drum on its side and there it was. We bought an old field snare for Ray at a thrift store. Other percussion has slowly been added to try to mix things up. I like the idea of two people essentially playing one drum kit.

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For some reason the first few times I caught wind of The Builders and The Butchers I was sure they were a metal band. Maybe it’s the leering skull on the album cover, or the presence of the blood-soaked word “butcher” in the name, but I just assumed they had long greasy hair, cut off Slayer tees, and a penchant for speed-happy distortion. Not poo-pooing metal, but it just didn’t strike me as something that needed to be listened to.

Until I caught them live on Saturday night.

Recently crowned by Williamette Week as Portland’s “Best Band”, this stringy fivesome mix blood-and-booze soaked narratives with high octane acoustic romps. Lead singer Ryan Sollee’s voice is a piercing rasp, cutting in to each song’s barren settings to expose the gloomy, near-evil throb that flows beneath. Mandolins, banjos, an acoustic bass, oh what dread these seemingly benign musical tools can instill.

For your listening enjoyment, I give you “Red Hands”.

MP3: The Builders and The Butchers - Red Hands

Myspace: The Builders and The Butchers