The vitality of the Tampa Bay area and greater Florida music scene has always ebbed and flowed, but we've enjoyed a renaissance of sorts over the past several years with growth in both the number of high quality bands actively playing the scene and the audiences going out to see them. Antiwarpt III seemed to solidify this fact with only three nationals nestled amid a lineup of 99 Florida acts, many of them locally-based. Despite a meager turnout to the free kick-off party on Friday night — which found bands like funky soulful local hip hop collective Gwan Massive and Brooklyn dance rock duo Hank & Cupcakes breaking in the new Morean Arts Center stage — crowds were milling at the main event fest from the very start, venues emptying and re-filling with warm bodies as the day turned to night. [Text by Leilani, Julie and Deb; photos by Phil, Drunkcameraguy, Daniel, Andrew and Shanna. All are individually noted.]
Seeing everything at a fest stretching from 3 p.m. to 3 a.m. with 10 stages was near impossible, even with three writers and several more photographers tracking the events. But we did a rather thorough job of it. Check out our impressions below…
4:20 p.m., Nothing in the Dark at Fubar I knew I'd only be at the festival for the start and finish, missing many of my favorite local acts, so I was determined to catch as many sets as I could in the short time I was there. The early crowd on the 600 Block was a pleasant surprise, with all the businesses in the area seeing healthy traffic as the early gigs began. Spring Hill alt punk foursome Nothing in the Dark had the dude-heaviest crowd I saw all night. Lead vocalist/guitarist Jeff Edel delivered some unintelligible screamo lyrics over the metal-tinged guitar lines. Not my thing, so I kept moving on to find the best of the early shows. —Deborah Ramos
4:25 p.m., Spiller at the Local 662 The crowd was spread throughout the venue, giving it the appearance of being much fuller than it actually was, though the Tampa indie rockers pulled in a solid amount of people for their set. A Bay area staple for years before disbanding, this was among the first few gigs they've played as a reunited trio, returning to the stage for the first time in late March, then again for Tropical Heatwave. Their guitar-driven rock and John McNicholas' vocals were slightly reminescent of Wilco at their heaviest. I stayed for a few songs from this early highlight. —DR
4:35 p.m., Mother Machine at Octave The Soundgarden-y psych-grunge of the Orlando band was pleasing everyone in the venue, my first time here since Octave's opening. Unfortunately I only caught half a song, vocalist Morgan Soltes closing out the set a little early with an enthusiastic, "You're the best audience ever!" —DR
4:39 p.m., Archaic Interest at Star Booty The tiny shop was already packed and muggy, but I instantly liked the laid back vibe of St Pete's Archaic Interest, which seemed to jive well with the late afternoon sun outside. Vocalist Jeff Williams (wearing a kerchief tied around his head like a yiddish grandmother) sounds a bit like a cross between Jim Morrison and Ian Curtis, a beautiful contrast against the surfer post-punk feel of their music. I dug it. —DR
5:55 p.m., The Dewars at Fubar My goal was to get to downtown St. Pete in time to catch St. Augustine-by-way-of-West Palm Beach duo, The Dewars, an absolute must-see for their experimental, off-kilter circus style of folkedelia I've likened to Village Green Preservation Society-era Kinks and the solo meanderings of Syd Barrett. Twin brothers Anthony and Zachary Dewar lead the group, sometimes with back-up players; for their Antiwarpt set, it was just the two of them on guitars and a stripped-down drumkit. Not sure what they played, but I assume it was off their sole recording, 2010's Songs From The Neverglades, and since it clocks in at just under 20 minutes long, I shouldn't have been surprised their 30-minute set ended about 10 minutes early and for me, only two songs deep into Antiwarpt. Luckily, this proved to be my only real disappointment the entire fest, and a small one at that. —Leilani Polk
6:10 p.m., Saskatchewan at The Local 662 I hadn't planned on seeing Saskatchewan — I do love them, but the Orlando quintet plays here every six weeks or so, and I figured I'd skip their set in favor of checking a band I hadn't seen before. I was glad I stopped in, as the group's dreamy synth pop is always an enchanting pleasure as marked by the high and haunting, breathy-sighing vocal harmonies of band principals Chandler Strang (guitar) and Michael Serrin (keys). —LP
6:30 p.m., Laurel Canyon at Fubar For our first show at Antiwarpt, my companion, photographer Daniel Veintimilla, and I dipped into Fubar for the side project of Beauvilles' Shawn Kyle and Max Norton. The obvious comparison is Black Keys, considering the band's two-dude lineup, and there's a lot more than gritty blues going on, though they had a nice touch of the Delta in the mix. Kyle and Norton's range and passel of petals helped yield garage-y and big-ass-rockin'; akin to Blue Cheer and Cream but with catchy, foot-tappin' appeal. A cute couple down in front couldn't keep from dancing in a fit of reverie. Loved them. People like that make these fests fun.—JG
6:35 p.m., The Send Offs at Star Booty I hit Star Booty on my way to State Theatre, thinking I'd be seeing Hot Hands. The venue was already running behind, however, and I ended up hanging out for a single, sweaty, heavy-rocking track by young Sarasota outfit Send-Offs. I was intrigued enough to take note and pay attention to future show dates before I slipped out again. —LP
6:45 p.m., set & setting at State Theatre The words I hear most often to describe set and setting are "loud" and "heavy," and I wasn't the only one who wanted to be present when the local four-piece cranked it up to the red at the State, which was was more than half-full when we arrived. The band seemed stoked about it, and put their vigorous all into a set of their trademark instrumental post rock with drone and psych tendencies. set and setting's sustained compositions stretch for as long as 16 minutes, and build to crashing climaxes via the propulsive rhythms of two tightly-synced drummers (Stephen Handal and Mark Etherington, the latter also of RedFeather), and the guitar-bass interplay of Shane Handal and John Allen. I saw (I believe) two songs before I headed to the next venue.—LP
7 p.m., Kaleigh Baker at The Local 662 I'm not one for blues women typically, but the fierce and passionate bellow and sweet plaintive belt-outs of Ms. Kaleigh can catch even if the most adamant of no-contemporary-blues-ever types like me completely unawares. Kissed with a sonorous sax and equally formidable backup vocals, her band filled the Local 662 with some sweet foggy-bottom beauty.—JG
7 p.m.-ish, Hot Hands at Star Booty Thank goodness the boutique was running a little tardy in their schedule or we would have missed guitarist Orlando’s Jeff Howard and drummer Kristen Messina. As said with Laurel Canyon, duos invite comparisons, but the indefinable edgy energy and all-out ballsiness of this boy-girl act way set them apart from Matt and Kim, the Ting Tings et al. Star Booty offered some of the most interesting bands at the fest, the noise-rock/garage pop Hot Hands were among those that grabbed us the most.—JG
7:10 p.m., Cats in the Basement at Octave I ended up missing Equines, so made a point of dropping in to see this Sarasota outfit that shares members with Equines (Greg Ferris and Mike Murphy), and has a lo-fi cockeyed surf/tropicali/doo dop-tinged indie pop sound I found particularly appealing, at least on disc. I wasn't as jazzed about it in a live setting, though; the venue was swarming with young hipsters, some quite charmingly singing along only one song deep into the set. But Ferris' mic had this scratchy, staticky quality that made his oddball vocals — paired with the more throaty outbursts of co-vocalist Mariel Purdon — unintelligible to a person like myself who doesn't know the Cats in the Basement repertoire. I just wasn't feeling it, and bailed after a few songs. —LP
7:25 p.m., Roadkill Ghost Choir at Café Bohemia We made our way to the far end of Central for a few songs of Roadkill Ghost Choir. A rather thick crowd filled the outdoor courtyard, so we stood towards the back to enjoy their mildly pastoral, richly-textured indie folk rock (a cross between Fleet Foxes and My Morning Jacket) while chatting with one of the many groups of friends we ran into throughout the fest. I decided I'd definitely see Roadkill when the Deland band inevitably played in town again, then took advantage of the fact that we lived only a few blocks away by heading home for a breather, clothing change, and refresher before returning for Round Two: Antiwarpt III After Dark. —LP
7:30 p.m., Y Los Dos Pistoles at VLVT It was a little surreal seeing one of my favorite trios play an almost completely bare, white salon space, but weird mash-ups of stimuli are often what make fests worth attending. Shae Krispinsky on vocals, guitar and harmonica, drummer Derek Forrester, and bassist Russ Jovin filled the room with their potent blend of rock, punk, folk and garage rock, with the added strums of guest cellist John David Eriksen. "He only plays with us part-time, typically for special shows, because he's from Gainesville," Krispinsky shared. "We've tried getting him to move down to Tampa to be with us, but he's not budging." I love Shae because she is one funny chick for being so dern hot. At one point of the show she paraphrased Ralph from The Simpsons, expressing hopes that the sound levels of the band didn't make our "ears blue." They played one of my favorite tunes, which offers a sultry waltz beat and Krispinsky on harmonica. Jovin's nimble plucks on a Steve Harris Signature Series Fender bass never ceased to impress. —JG
8 p.m., Permanent Makeup at Star Booty For a delectable half hour, Star Booty transformed into "Shake Yer Booty" with the infectious hooks and rhythmic punk fury of Permanent Makeup. If you could put the words maniacal and charming together in one sentence, it would be for this mighty, mighty Tampa Bay trio. Kudos to Chris Nadeau, Susan Dickson and James Bess for one of the best performances of the fest. (Apologies to the other bands during this too-popular time slot that we didn't make it to see. We were a little held up by PM's awesomeness.) —JG
9 p.m.ish, Day Joy at VLVT After breaking, we made our way down to Day Joy, chatting with SubAp operator/freelance CL writer Ray Roa and his wife for a few minutes outside while dodging (or, when not paying close enough attention, getting pummeled by) a few giant yellow balls that a group of adult kids were bouncing around in some sort of blown-out, bastardized hackey-sack game, only the balls kept multiplying, were 50 times bigger than a sack, and just as libel to hit us in the head or sail into the cars driving along Central as to make it into the outstretched arms of its intended drunkards.
A safety hazard for sure, and entertaining up until Day Joy's set started and we joined the small throng that gathered around VLVT's tiny standing-room space. I didn't know much about the band, only that a few of the members are involved with the whole Loud Valley-Saskatchewan-(now-defunct) Introduction to Sunshine musical tribe (in this case, Michael Serrin, Artie Burer and Travis Reed), so I expected some sort of dreamy pop vibe. Day Joy leaned more folk than Saskatchewan, with light percussion and ukulele, and had a brighter yet quieter appeal. On a side note, bassist Burer dislocated his shoulder on Friday night, was in the ER until 5 a.m. Saturday morning, and still managed to make both his gigs for Antiwarpt. Props, dude. I'd give you the MVP award, if you were in my bands. —LP
9:10 p.m., The Gerry Williams Band at Morean Arts Center Stage Adding some funky fun and cool refreshment with the welcome breezes, the spot-on funk ensemble brought badass stage presence to the outdoor stage outside the gallery just after dark. Gerry Williams’ stylistic combo offered smatterings of Stevie Wonder, James Brown, Al Green, Johnny Guitar Watson and Prince. Best Antiwarpt sunglasses honors go to the bright-green-Wayfarer-wearin’ bassist. —JG
9:45p.m., Florida Night Heat at The Emerald We trekked up to the Morean for a few songs by Gerry Williams Band, then returned to the 500 block and joined a packed crowd at the Emerald for a sweat-soaked set of Southern drone-stoner griminess and pounding psych rock-tronics by FNH. Bassist Andre Jones raged his lowend shirtless, head-banging and shifting back and forth with explosive energy that managed to stay contained in the small space as beat-keeper Chris Wood crashed cymbals, wailed on toms and kicked bass drum with a perfect Animal-Grrr face, and guitarist Jensen Kistler served as the cool and calm counterpoint to both, dishing out heady heavy riffs, solos and layers of reverb and noise with a Mona Lisa smile. Poetry n' Lotion/Brahm Bones musician Matt E. Lee joined on keys for "BK Outro," and stayed for the spaghetti western flavored "The Last Bandito," at which point I left to get a good spot for Adrian Younge. —LP
10:20 p.m., Marble at Sake Bomb We dipped into the "Swank" bar for the knob-tweaking and dabblings of young multi-instrumentalist, soundscaper extraordinaire Alex DeWahl, aka Marble. The mood he created was strangely beautiful as multicolored dots lit the dance floor and black-and-white images projected behind him as his precorded but pleasant-to-listen-to vocals filled the room. —JG
10:40 p.m., The Semis at the Emerald Bar Having seen the Semis play the Emerald for the, I don't know, 57th time, I felt like a doting aunt, feeling wistful about how the boys had all grown up. The Semis' set at Antiwarpt showed us the Semis self-actualized; cohesive, nuanced and atmospheric. Thank god, the gauzy effects and pretty sounds don't sacrifice their edge. Their set list included the title track from 2012, High on Pop, and another, "Art on Wall," in addition to some older songs, including "Fun in the Sun," which is featured on the Sundance Channel's promo for films of Summer 2012. Speaking of Summer, frontman Billy with the vacation-season last name said: "I had a good time, but can't wait to debut my new band at the Hub on Sunday, Sept 9, opening up for Cheap Time with Jensen Serf Co."—JG
10:40p.m., Adrian Younge at State Theatre Aside from several cuts off his latest release, Something About April, I'm not sure exactly what San Francisco composer/multi-instrumentalist Adrian Younge and his "Venice Dawn" band played for their Antiwarpt set; cuts off the Venice Dawn EP and from the Black Dynamite soundtrack to be sure. No matter — my ignorance of the setlist didn't detract at all from my enjoyment of what turned out to be one of the most badass live performances I've seen all year, a fact helped by my position nearly front and center.
Far exceeding my already high expectations, the band hit the stage with noisy flare, drummer Dave Henderson and keys player C.E. Garcia (who also subbed on bass) kicking it into high gear with a thunderous foundation of sound, as one guitarist, Jack Waterson, then another, Alfredo Fratti, took up posts on either side of the stage and added their licks and riffs to the mix before Younge himself made his grand entrance and started ripping out heavy funking basslines. Light glinted off his hip aviator-style eyewear, his long dreadlocks were pulled back neatly, and he wore the same sharp grey suit as the rest of his bandmates, which he removed in pieces throughout the more than hour-long set until he was fully bare-chested, his dreads loose and flying by the end.
Live, the mix of psychedelic soul, R&B, and cinematic blaxspoitation funk and spaghetti western drama had a harder, edgier, more in-your-face grind, making it feel like a high-energy rock show with Younge at its dynamic heart, a natural showman who displayed his musical prowess as he traded off instruments with his bandmates, from bass to organ and synths to flute and sax, then back to bass again. But he was also able to take a back seat when compositions turned to songs with the appearance of vocalist Loren Oden, who shined and dazzled with his velvety timbre and soulful turns on falsetto.
Younge expressed his excitement about being in Florida, struck a bargain at the beginning of the set — “Give us your all, and we’ll give you our all. Do we have a deal?” — and left both sides feeling like champions as the near full-house at State Theatre got the fuck down. A great turnout for for his first-ever stop in the Sunshine State. Hopefully our enthusiastic response will bring him back. —LP
11:40 p.m., Palantine at the Emerald Forceful, solid, catchy as all get out, with some metallic overtones, Palantine's set resembled a sodden, heavier version of the Foo Fighers. And Antiwarpt may have been one of their last shows. According to front man/guitarist Vinnie Cosentino, the band will only be playing rare gigs, perhaps opening for the right touring bands and in festivals as drummer Jeff is finishing up school and Brian starts law school in the fall. "I think ending on Antiwarpt after a six-year run and five albums is walking out on top." Vinnie, who's also drumming for Spiller and plays with Palantine spinoff Mother Winslow, says he has yet another side project in the offing. "… An entirely new band where I play guitar. I have been collaborating on the material with my friend John Smith (yes he is a real person) and even one song with former Lukali bandmate Scott Becker. This band is a complete departure from Palantine or Mother Winslow. Very little distortion, carefully crafted melodies and basic song structures. Total focus on catchy melodies. Fans of Built to Spill, Fleet Foxes and maybe even New Pornographers should likey." —JG
12:15 a.m., Sunbears! at the Local 662 The post-midnight nightcaps began with Sunbears!, purveyors of sparkling psych pop that earns them frequent comparisons to Flaming Lips. Their lush, well-produced debut full-length on New Granada Records, You Will Live Forever, was among my favorites last year. They played a few tunes I recognized off it — the tenderly anthemic “Give Love a Try,” the strident climax-building of “They Think They're Soooo Philosophical,” the John Lennon-esque “Together Forever” — and made a whole lot of noise for just two dudes, each resounding crash marked by blasts of light. Strobes were thrown in for extra trippy measure, which made for an overall dizzying effect. I took a time-out for some PNL action. —LP
12:20 a.m., Mountain Goats at State Theatre This was my first gig at the State in a while, and I was blown away by the improvement. The scaffolding on either side of the stage has been redone and an impressive lighting rig added. It's a phenomenal change for a venue I've always held a soft spot for anyhow. It was a perfectly sized venue for The Mountain Goats, playing their first show in months. Early in the set, they performed "Cry for Judas," the first single from their new album, Trancendental Youth. Frontman John Darnielle explained the track was only released two days prior, and this was the first time they've played it live. Definitely holds promise for the new release.
The crowd bounced and sang gleefully along to the opening line of "See America Right" ("I was driving up to Tampa…") as they did every time the cheerful singer mentioned our city, which was actually pretty often. Darnielle also opened every song with an explanation, "this is a song about…," giving added depth to his already uniquely descriptive lyrics.
Knowing their set would last another hour and I'd be back for the ending, I dashed out to see a local band I've been dying to catch live: Andy Matchett and the Minks. —DR
12:20 a.m., Everymen, sidewalk outside Bank of America The Florida East Coast band of charming minstrels gave us an "anti-anti-Warped tour show," performing their self-described "crustabilly punk folk" tattooed and shirtless on the sidwalk. With pleasant but gritty harmonies, the band introduced themselves and said they hailed from West Palm Beach, "well, actually Lake Worth, the dangling junk of West Palm Beach." Everymen's sound reminded me of Against Me! if they would've remained in Gainesville and joined forces with the Avett Brothers before getting famous. Was on way to Mountain Goats but didn't make it, thanks to Everymen. They provided another one of those great detour discoveries that happen to you while you're busy making other plans. In my opinion, the best moments of festivals. Thanks, guys! —JG
12:25a.m., Poetry n' Lotion at Fubar The fusion band has gone through an evolution that saw them starting as more of a post-jazz and folk project with mandolin to a more aggressive metal-flecked electro-prog outfit with mild jazz tendencies as led by the piercing trumpet of Kenny Pullen (Magadog, d’Visitors). Matt E. Lee has added keyboard effects to his guitar-playing resume and paired with the solid lowend and rhythmic backbeat of Thomas Murray and John Nowicki, you have yourself one tasty brew of instrumentals with Alex Fedele, drummer of Auto!Automatic!!, sitting in on trombone and spicing things up for a tune. PNL delivered a high octane set to an audience that was impressive considering that they were up against the Mountain Goats, and the numbers grew as the set got later. —LP
1 a.m., The Dead Popes at The Emerald I slipped into Emerald and caught the tail end of Dead Popes' set, a raucous mix of growling, hard-as-nails rockabilly, surf and punk rock marked by the pounding upright bass of Gary Knaggs, and gruff roaring vocals of slick-haired guitarist intense-eyed Ray Vega. A nice punch to give me steam enough for the last band I planned on catching that night. —LP
1:11 a.m., Andy Matchett and the Minks at Octave The Orlando outfit was off to a frustratingly late start, with 15 minutes of soundcheck and fucking around getting beers. Never having seen the band live, I was just annoyed by the girl handing out confetti, until Mr. Matchett kicked off his set, saying "the rule with the confetti is, when you're out, you pick it up off the floor to keep the party going," before the band raged into their opening song and paper exploded all around me. Their dance rock provided exactly the energy I needed at this point in the night to reluctantly drag myself away back to The State. —DR
1:25 a.m., Mountain Goats at State Theatre I arrived back just in time to catch the first song of their encore, "This Year," a secret favorite of mine for some time (besides "Damn These Vampires" which I either missed, or they never played). Darnielle commented "this is the song where I invade your personal space," before the band closed out the show with "House Guest." —DR
1:40a.m., Jane Jane Pollock at the Local 662 The dark, stealthy, experimental pop of Tallahassee's Jane Jane Pollock was laced with tribal percussive overtones and weird synth textures, but by this time, I was so exhausted I could do little more than maintain a passing interest, hanging in the back and eventually taking a seat before giving in and admitting defeat. So I called it a night, said my fond farewells, and took my tired body home. —LP
1:40 a.m., Sounduo at Fubar I've had a thing for dance music lately, and the pair's bass-driven dubstep shook me out of my indie sleepiness. Will Mills improvisationally mixes hip-hop and Caribbean influences (among others) while Zach Morillo drums along; the live rhythms providing a nice touch to the electronica. If you feel like dancing your ass off, catch them when they return to Crowbar this Saturday, opening for Zoogma. —DR
This article appears in Aug 2-8, 2012.