Charlotte Pop Fest 2009: Flawed Yet Essential

Story by Bill Kopp

The three-day event organized by Charlotte musician James Deem, sought to bring together a stellar lineup of (power)pop acts, both celebrated and unjustly overlooked. Yet due to a variety of circumstances -- some beyond the control of the organizers, other of the how-did-you-think-that-wouldn't-be-a-problem variety -- the Fest seemed star-crossed well before the first act took the stage.

First, the bad news. The Knack (Remember them? There would be a lot of "remember thems" in the CPF lineup) were originally slated to top the bill, but health problems forced their backing out. Then of course the economy in general didn't help ticket sales. A vaguely similar event (albeit one with schlocky acts like Night Ranger topping the bill) in South Carolina was canceled days before its scheduled date, owing to anemic sales figures.

Of course there wasn't much organizers of the Charlotte Pop Fest could do about those things, short of not putting on the event. But then came kind of a biggie. The event was put together as a fundraiser for something called the Richard Dawkins Foundation for Reason & Science. Now, if you're a thinking, rational person, a thus-named organization wouldn't cause you any alarm. But if, on the other hand, you're either (a) part of the fringe fanatical, intolerant end of a mainstream religious category that developed in, say, the last couple thousand years and isn't Islam or Judaism; (b) a cowardly advertiser afraid of alienating the oh-so-delicate sensibilities of those fringes or (c) both, then, well, Mr. Dawkins and his organization are virtually guaranteed to (going vernacular here) piss you off.

Well, plenty of people, it seems, were a, b, or c. And if not plenty, enough to gin up that kind of moral outrage that gets covered on the local news affiliate. Said advertiser pulled sponsorship at the eleventh hour, and the Fest was (organizers say) left with no choice but to cancel Roger (Jellyfish) Manning's set. A bigger question one might ask, of course, is why didn't the organizers see this fracas coming? Last time I looked at a map, Charlotte was in North Carolina, and NC is part of the south. Hell, Mark Sanford's office is only a couple hours' drive, and Joe "You Lie" Wilson's gerrymandered district is also in that neighboring state. Not exactly the Boston-NYC corridor, that. So one would have thought that a high-profile event with even the most tenuous ties to an avowed atheist would, I dunno, raise a few hackles among those cranks lacking a teabagging event that weekend with which to occupy themselves.

Anyway, the thing is, the problems with the event were largely nonmusical. The event itself was chock full of high-caliber acts. The Fest kicked off on Thursday, so I (and presumably many others) missed some truly fine artists, many of whom rarely travel down Bible Belt way: The Posies and Mike Viola were among that day's highlights. But Friday featured at least three acts that I considered not-to-be-missed.

First up (for me, anyway) was Gladhands. This group released a string of good-to-excellent powerpop albums in the mid 90s, and broke up near the end of that decade. As I recall hearing at the time, they were quite bitter and frustrated at their lack of success. (You'll have to trust me on that; I can't cite a source for that info.) They deserved better, with their Burt Bacharach-meets-the-Nazz approach; I described them to a friend recently as something of a Wondermints, East Coast Division, and I'll stand by that. Their (long out of print) La Di Da album is a near-perfect record.

Onstage they weren't terribly exciting, but that wasn't all their fault, either. The venue -- Dana Auditorium at Charlotte's Queens University -- doesn't exactly ooze that rock and roll vibe. It has an ambience a bit more like, say, your middle school's auditorium, but with higher production values. Well, actually, not even. Lighting was virtually nonexistent: Gladhands (and all acts, in fact) played under a set of white lights that pointed straight down; no mood lighting here. As one musician wryly observed, "well, at least the floor behind the drum throne will be well lit." And while the monitor mixes were pretty good, the house mix was a notch above wretched. The drums in particular sounded like dead fish hitting wet cardboard boxes: a dull thud. Either the room, or the PA, or the sound tech weren't suited to rock and roll. At least not during Gladhands' set.

The audience -- about sixty people -- was appreciative, but the lack of ambience and poor sound were detracting factors. Still, Gladhands earned and got a standing O, and suggested in their parting comments that we might be hearing more from them in the future. Let's hope so.

The event was stage-managed rather, um, loosely: by the time the next act (solo guitarist Glen Burtnick) finally left the stage, the schedule was 90 minutes behind. The acts waiting in the wings (Jill Sobule and The Spongetones) took it all in stride, not registering the slightest complaint. I was frustrated for them, though. It's no fun to start your act after you're supposed to have finished. Especially on a rainy night.

But the lovely Jill Sobule trotted onstage with her groovy mini-guitar and wowed the audience with a fun, engaging set. Sobule is that kind of artist that those in the know get all angry on behalf of: "Why isn't she massively popular?" She's that good. Her storytelling songs are interesting, wry vignettes drawn (at least partially) from personal experience. She got huge laughs from her brief "Ritalin Kid" tune, and deftly navigated that tenuous path between humor, pathos and plain old crowd-pleasing. Her last big hit was fifteen years ago, and that's just plain wrong. Jill played several tracks from her latest, California Years. That album is a groundbreaking study in artist financing, too.

Sobule "kindly" cut her set short, making way for the Spongetones to finally get started. I say "kindly" because the earlier acts made no such concessions, and weren't -- as best as I could tell -- asked to. A shame, that.

Charlotte's legendary Spongetones hit the stage after midnight, facing a weary and dwindling (yeah, now less than sixty-person) crowd. But those who remained got to see a great show. I discovered the Spongetones around the time of their debut; I bought the Beat Music LP debut in 1982. The 'Tones approach was and is deceptively simple: write and perform wholly original songs, but deliver them in Beatles style. This they did and do well. Over the course of eight-plus albums, they've broadened and refined their approach some, but they still turn out clever, catchy songs. And while they've never gotten their due (though they did score inclusion on Rhino's Children of Nuggets box set), they stay at it, delivering not just the goods, but the greats. Guitarist Jamie Hoover tells me they're headed to Japan in October for a couple of shows. Good for them; they've paid their dues and deserve every break they get.

And so ended Friday night. Downsides: pouring rain, no signage or clues of any sort as to the venue's location, bad sound (ok when solo artists performed), dispiriting attendance numbers. Upsides: the return of lost-in-the-wilderness Gladhands (even if it was a middling performance), Jill Sobule's delightful set, two hours of Spongetones originals. And the candy dish in the Charlotte Area Atheists' info booth was a nice touch.

After the semi-disaster of Night #2 (I had missed Night #1 altogether) of the 2009 Charlotte Pop Fest, I was left wondering how things would go. Event impresario James Deem had come out onstage part-way through the Friday set to announce to the crowd (well, not a crowd; more like a gathering) that due to the nonstop rain -- and forecast of more to come -- Saturday's outdoor performances would be moved indoors.

This didn't bode well. A number of acts had been scheduled to perform outdoors as part of a multi-stage street festival already taking place in Charlotte that weekend. But the original schedule had some overlap between the end of the outdoor gigs and the start of the evening's indoor festivities. Add to that the fact that Friday's lineup was way behind schedule, owing (imho) to poor stage-management, and you had a recipe for disaster.

And to make matters even more complicated, the mighty Smithereens had an in-store performance scheduled for midday Saturday at the same time as other acts were supposed to be playing (either outdoors or indoors, depending on, well, y'know). An event that wasn't drawing in the triple digits, spread across two or possibly three venues? Also not a good sign.

I knew where I'd be Saturday.

Manifest Discs is the sort of place you don't see any more. It's a huge (easily a few thousand square feet) record store. A real throwback to the glory days of rock music, Manifest features a huge vinyl section (new and used) where intrepid cratediggers could find new indie releases as well as good-condition copies of old Paul Revere & the Raiders LPs. The vast used CD section included a wide swath of genres, all fairly priced; the new CD section was also expansive. I didn't even venture into the DVD department, but it was big as well.

At the back of the store, centrally located, a decent-sized permanent stage was set up. Well in advance of the scheduled noon start time, Pat DiNizio (guitar/vocals), Jim Babjak (guitar/vocals) and Dennis Diken (drums/vocals) had arrived. The format was pretty loose: the three original Smithereens mounted barstools and planned to play a short semi-unplugged set.

No tambourines, shakers or other percussion were in sight, so Dennis would be in charge of foot-stomping, clapping and harmony vocals. The loaner acoustic guitar designated for Jim Babjak (belonging, I think, to James Deem) had some wiring trouble, so he ended up using a spare Stratocaster belonging to DiNizio. Pat didn't play an instrument either; he'd focus on singing. As Diken told me before they started the set, bassist Severo "The Thrilla" Jornacion wouldn't be joining them for this informal set, as he had picked up a support gig with one of the other acts.

The gathered group of 20-25 fans enjoyed a delightfully intimate set running about 30 minutes. The three solicited requests from the fans, and did their best to oblige when the requests made sense and fit the limited format. Songs like "Only a Memory" worked amazingly well in the single-guitar-and-harmony-vocal format, proving once again that a great song is a great song in any style.

The group's easygoing, engaging banter carried the day. When some of the requests leaned toward the heavier end of things, Diken said, "What we're trying to do -- since we're so naked up here -- we'd like to do some things that have more harmonies." I called out for a personal favorite, Blow Up's "Now and Then." Dennis Diken paused and replied, "That's one we haven't rehearsed in a while. But that does have some good harmonies on it." He paused again for effect. "I guess we're done." The crowd burst into laughter.

Taking a page from the Unplugged format, Diken, DiNizio and Babjak took turns providing back-story anecdotes to many of the songs, something that I figured was a rare treat; they certainly couldn't do that in a "rock" show without diminishing the flow, right? (I would -- happily -- be proven wrong later that night.) Of particular interest was DiNizio story about the origins of "Behind the Wall of Sleep". And the song's longish guitar solo, courtesy of Babjak -- was a real treat as well.

"The Thrilla" did in fact arrive near the end of the set; he was subjected to good-natured razzing from his bandmates for his late arrival. Dennis Diken waggishly introduced him: "Ladies and gentlemen, Larry Ramos." The crowd dutifully applauded, most not catching the joke. (Hawaii-born Larry Ramos joined pop vocal group The Association in 1967 and still tours with the group. Jornacion is from the Phillipines.) Jornacion's arrival allowed the Smithereens to close their set with the bass-heavy "Blood and Roses", their earliest hit. Diken took turns with DiNizio on lead vocals, something the group can't easily do in their usual electric format.

After the set, the Smithereens spent leisurely time meeting every one of the people who came along to see them, and then they scoured the racks for good deals on CDs and vinyl.

Seeing the Smithereens up close and personal would be an experience difficult to top. Or so I thought.

Coming soon: review of the Smithereens show at Night #3 of the 2009 Charlotte Pop Fest.

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