Pitchfork

With sparsely-attended Veterans' Day festivities underway in San Francisco's Civic Center plaza (because nothing pays tribute to our esteemed men and women of war quite like a high school drill team in miniskirts and garters performing LeAnn Rimes' "Can't Fight the Moonlight"), the city's young and adventurous began lining up outside the nearby Bill Graham Civic Center for the inaugural Be the Riottt! festival.

Put together by burgeoning music/art/culture website Riottt.com, Be the Riottt! basically united those two towering bastions of underground music: white dudes with guitars and black dudes with microphones and turntables-- with a few laptops and ladies tossed in for good measure. By genre statistics, however, the fest boasted a pretty diverse lineup, with heavy doses of indie rock (the Rapture, the Wrens, Deerhoof, Xiu Xiu, Metric, Tokyo Police Club) and hip hop (Clipse, Living Legends, Zion I, Sage Francis, P.O.S.), a few sprinkles of dancier stuff (Girl Talk, the Presets, Weird Science), and a couple random screamo bands snuck in for no apparent reason (Fall of Troy, Heavy Heavy Low Low).

Riottt! birthed this baby with a bang, and was kind enough to treat Pitchfork to a Frisco trip to witness the blood, the sweat, and the joyous tears of that birth live. A quiet Riottt! this most certainly was not.









The Riottt kicked off with San Jose's Heavy Heavy Low Low on the Polk stage, a serviceable screamo act with some gnarly riff-lunges and a lead shrieker who needed to acknowledge the fact that there was an audience out there, and a few of them were even head-banging.

Birdmonster [Main Stage; 2 p.m.]


Meanwhile, in the auditorium next door, hometown hopefuls Birdmonster deserve some credit for delivering a bunch of fairly mediocre tunes from their recent full-length debut in a most exhilarating fashion. The four-piece took full advantage of the massive main stage, nauseating lighting-blitz, and real-time jumbotron close-ups to strut their arena rock ambitions, bounding about and jamming with wild abandon.

P.O.S. [Larkin Stage; 3 p.m.]




Initiating the fest's unofficial hip hop stage, the Larkin, Minneapolis Rhymesayer P.O.S. found himself the first victim of an obnoxiously large gap between performer and audience-- seriously, you could drive an eighteen-wheeler through this thing, and there were never enough of us mangy journalist types in there to warrant its ridiculous width. To compensate, the determined MC leapt from the stage and situated himself on the barricade for a few raps, including some a cappella action. He also inquired after every other song whether people were "feeling it", which I could have done without-- though I admire his push for proactive listeners, encouraging folks to get their $40 worth instead of standing around all slack-jawed and narcoleptic. And gentleman's flow ain't all there yet, but it wasn't ruining anybody's life either.

Tokyo Police Club [Polk Stage; 4 p.m.]


With the main stage already running behind schedule, I had a few extra minutes before the Wrens started, so I caught Toronto buzz-worthies Tokyo Police Club kicking off their set on the Polk stage next door. TPC nip at the back paws of Wolf Parade with their keyboard/organ-addled schizo-pop and came today to teach us A Lesson in Crime. Unfortunately, the crime here was that many of TPC's tunes end much too soon, and the Club's taut energy sublimates before it really has a chance to infect anybody. So we got sketches of something grand-- hopefully the forthcoming full length will see them fleshed out.

The Wrens [Main Stage; 4 p.m.]




Speaking of veterans, the Wrens wound up Riottt's afternoon highlight, once again showing up rockers half their age with a rambunctious, almost entirely Meadowlands-centric set. Bassist Kevin Whelan-- who's lovingly abused his instrument to the point that it's now shaped more like a sitar-- enthused to the immense room about realizing his rock star fantasies, and dressed the part: leather jacket, sunglasses, rock'n'roll theatrics (The first two came off as the third increased). We could fault them for derailing the energy from time to time to bend, stretch, pick apart, and re-piece together elements of the songs that these four hip uncles obviously know inside-out, but not when doing so only made the mega-catharses that much larger than life.

Asobi Seksu [Polk Stage; 6 p.m.]






Next up, New York nü-gazers Asobi Seksu swelled and squalled all over the Polk stage, swarmed by quite the cabal of photographers. While Asobi sometimes err in letting volume trump substance-- and the act's basslines often savor momentum over color-- they did treat the packed room to three of their most promising compositions to date, doubling up "Thursday" and "Goodbye" and closing with "Red Sea", which soon dissolved into an ocean of white noise-- then finishing with an unannounced cover of the Crystals' "Then He Kissed Me". You made me realise, indeed.

Living Legends [Main Stage; 6 p.m.]


I emerged, ears ravaged, just in time to witness eight-piece Cali hip hop collective Living Legends wrap up their set with tag-team raps over a beat that sampled living legend Brian Eno's "By This River". These West Coast favorites brought an old school ethos and some homegrown choreography to the main stage, and by my rough estimate, drew the largest crowd of the night, eclipsing even that of main stage headliner the Rapture.

Sage Francis [Main Stage; 7 p.m.]






A consummate showman, Sage Francis knew precisely how to work the large main stage crowd that greeted him following the Legends' set. Sage preached the good word, joked, rapped, psyched us out, and drop-kicked croissants into the crowd (seriously). He also dissed Jay-Z over the beat to "99 Problems" ("I like 99 rappers, but Jay-Z ain't one of them"), which was mostly wack, and half-plagiarized, half-lame-ified Pharoahe Monch's "Simon Says", but more than made up for it every time he unleashed sudden stage-stomping outbursts in time with the booming bass. The big guy can move! Although, let's admit, not as well as the two B-boys he invited onstage from the crowd to breakdance.

Explosions in the Sky [Main Stage; 8 p.m.]




Next up: Texans Explosions in the Sky, a significant change of pace from the previous three main stage hip hop acts. Despite trading in the dreaded Instrumental Guitar Music, the four-piece didn't bore one bit with their soaring post-rock, crafting lullabies for kings and giants which emphasized dynamics and crescendos over melody and rhythm, without completely forgoing either. As they swept from the serene and stately to the celestial and exalted, heads bobbed and bodies swayed expressively, while bassist Michael James lay into his instrument like a man possessed.

Metric [Main Stage; 9 p.m.]




Metric looked a little sleepy as they took to the main stage, and unfortunately I wasn't able to stick around to see if they ever woke up (although my money's on "hell yes")-- Xiu Xiu were beckoning.

Xiu Xiu [Polk Stage; c. 10 p.m.]








A last minute addition to the Riottt! bill, Xiu Xiu's complex mess of equipment-- which now includes a full drum kit and vibraphones courtesy of new member Ches Smith, along with keyboards, samplers, snare, guitar, melodica, flute, drum machine, and scattered percussion-- had the stage crew flipping a wig. A full hour later than scheduled, the trio did finally start, and I cannot emphasize enough what a wonder it is to see this band live. Fuck going through the (e)motions-- each Xiu Xiu gig is a unique and raw experience, and the band remains, both live and on record, one of the most compelling acts making music today.

Here it was "Hives Hives" that proved the showstopper, realized in its full percussive glory thanks to Smith and guest drummer from Deerhoof/longtime Xiu-pal Greg Saunier (indeed, Jamie Stewart later called Deerhoof, who took the stage next, his "favorite band ever"). Stewart himself went balls out for the explosive "Hives" finale, obliterating the snare drum before him. Woe of woes, however, Xiu Xiu were forced to end their set prematurely due to time restraints-- but not before tearing through a fabulously muscled-up rendition of "I Luv the Valley OH", saturated with ferocious drumming from Smith that would make even Swans blush.

Girl Talk [Main Stage; c. 10:30 p.m.]






And then there was Girl Talk. While Gregg Gillis certainly knows his way around a mean mash-up, utopian top 40 distillation took a backseat this night to the man's onstage hysterics-- which are fast becoming legendary.

The scene: Barely two minutes in, Gillis makes a mad dash for the crowd, misjudging the enormous gap and BAM-- lanky white torso, meet wrought iron barricade. Fucking maniac doesn't flinch, and in a flash he's back behind his laptop, then back in the pit hoisting ecstatic crowd kids over the bar and onto the stage. Security's clueless-- in fact, half of them are helping more kids onstage, and before you can say "Ring the Alarm" there are a good 100 revelers going hog-wild up there, being the Riottt and all that, live and onstage. Gillis is buried in there someplace, and he's losing articles of clothing by the minute. Typical gig in the life of Girl Talk.

But the joy was short-lived-- ten glorious minutes, that was it. Despite frenzied chants of "Girl Talk! Girl Talk!", a martyred Gillis was forced to leave the stage, apologizing as he did so, frowning and topless. It's unclear whether he was ejected for tugging folks onstage or whether everything running late led to a severe truncation of his set. Either way, effing lame, dudes.

Deerhoof [Polk Stage; 11 p.m.]




Speaking of late, what with the Polk stage running ridiculously behind schedule, I only had time to catch a couple Deerhoof tunes before Clipse hit the Larkin stage on the opposite side of the building. As the band is a three-piece since the departure of bassist Chris Cohen, lead cooer Satomi Matsuzaki took over low-end duties, and the 'hoof sounded tight as ever. Carting around that four-string didn't impede Satomi's pantomime routine and kooky crane-stands one bit, saints be praised.

The Rapture [Main Stage; 11:15 p.m.]




Making a bee-line for Clipse by way of the main auditorium, I managed to catch the Rapture kickstart their set with a sax-damaged rendition of "Heaven"...

Clipse [Larkin Stage; 11:15 p.m.]






...arriving at Larkin just in time to see Pusha T and Malice take the stage against the ominous sample behind "Virginia". Can't say I witnessed a single person that night, neither onstage nor in crowd, who looked happier than Clipse's Pusha. And with the label woes at rest for now and Hell Hath No Fury finally hitting the streets at the end of this month (early reports: hip hop album of the year?), the man has plenty to beam about. Less than 30 seconds after the performance he was backstage, handing out Hell Hath No Fury promotional aprons and greeting fans with a smile brighter than any diamond he was wearing and whiter than any substance he might push.

All in all, the City That Knows How knew how to throw together a pretty awesome festival with Riottt!, owing much to the performing caliber of the acts on the bill and the decision to let rock and hip hop commingle. A few bits of advice for next year: be mindful of scheduling (playing Zion I against X-Clan, Living Legends against Busdriver, and the Wrens against Tokyo Police Club was way uncool, as was cutting short the sets of a couple of the later, more highly-anticipated acts because earlier upstarts went overtime), play up the "cutting edge music, fashion, and art" aspect you boast on your website (music was A-okay, but hokey background video collages and pulsating, light-up Scion key chains do not compute as cutting edge art), and tighten that damned gap between the stage and audience. Also: keep the photo booth and free Pacman-- and if the kids want to actually be the riottt and dance onstage, for crissakes, let 'em.