IWANTAPETRAT FIRST ANNUAL MEETING - 08/05/2023 - POLICE STATE, MONETTE, CENÖBITE, TOOTHACHE, TOKILLAFLY, HERNIA, FLOWERS @ THE HIVE

This blog comes with an accompaniment in the form of a documentary video that Dead Mothers Collective and I collaborated on. Watch it here:

Much like the Friend Show, I was not planning on making a blog post for this festival since I was doing already doing this video, but seeing as this lineup was far too immense and special to let slip by, I must. I'm writing this incredibly, incredibly late to post alongside the video. This was a really amazing event, and if you get the chance to go to the next one, whenever that may be, 100% take it. Bryce from Monette and Nyle from Taciturn and Dead Mothers Collective have cultivated an amazing community with these bands and people. As always, send your music and show stuffs to [ fosterhildingmusic@gmail.com ], leave a comment, or DM me on Instagram.

I arrived around noon that morning, meeting up with iwantapetrat's unsung hero, Connor, as he began setting up mics and chords to run sound for the day, Nyle, doing the same, and Bryce as they dealt with all the other little things between audience and band. Vendors began setting up in The Hive's courtyard. As soon as she was ready, I was first to get a tattoo from Anna outside the door. I then tried my hand at skate videos of tokillafly's Kaden, Ilario, and Bryce, but you can see how that attempt went.

cool photos courtesy of Nathan.

flowers opened up the day in their crisp, blackened, gazey glory. I'd never heard them sound better or clearer, yet their signature fuzz-drenched, massive sound was not lost. Joe's fragile vocal melodies peaked just barely over their wall of noise, rising and falling alongside Killian's steady drums. Cyam's bass felt as thick as ever--the anchor that held down Marshall and Joe's guitars as they yearned for escape in flight, each seemingly endless and unmoving against the currents of reverb and delay.

shitty photos taken from video.

My heart is happy every time I see flowers, although my ears may not be. It's so easy to get lost in the distorted waves of sound that never cease to pull you under--but still, they manage to toe the line between fuzzy metal complacency and bittersweet post-rock ballads with beautiful precision. Stream i wish we were.

It feels wrong that my first time seeing Hernia was at The Hive and not crammed body-to-wall in a sweaty house dodging elbows. Their sound is exactly what it should be--the purest extraction of grinding hardcore formulated to coerce every body to their sweaty, twirling extreme. Trevor's snare was a constant popping attack, guiding every head to its upswing. Randy and Daniel's guitar and bass were inseparable--a singular vibration brought together only by anxious malice. 

Nuke Sedona is Flagstaff's hardcore anthem. Even in its sluggish breakdown it keeps its marching energy as Randy and Daniel's vocals ping pong between screaming and oinking. The room was in constant motion as they played, every body never ceasing to kick and mosh to the always aching rhythm of Trevor's pounding kick. Stream Chopped N Screwed.

Considering this was a festival, this blog is going to be quite a bit longer, although much more diverse than the last one I covered. I will do my best to represent everyone accurately and well, especially considering they are some of my favorite local bands of all time. That being said, I'm sorry in advance.

Hence becoming Flagstaff's own emo violence gem, tokillafly finally moved up from opener-purgatory this show to shine to their fullest. Pre-EP release, their sound was harsher, faster, and untamed. Bryce's bass like wooden planks introduced Accentuate the Body with a gurgling slide only to be overtaken by Dazey's signature passionate, accusatory, and yearning vocals and Kaden's noise-drenched ventures into hardcore dissonance. Rio's fast-paced and splattering drums acted as their glue with dizzying fills and snapshot snare.

It's been such an incredible experience to be so close with tokillafly. Watching them grow until this show, and onward until now, has made me so embarrassingly obsessed with them. Their experimentations in emo, hardcore, and noise allow them to perpetuate a wholly unique sound that could never be replicated by others. The world needs more tokillafly. Stream bedlum.

Toothache, forever perpetuating their stance as Flagstaff's crowning shoegaze jewel, brought everyone back into the sweaty chamber after a short break. The pulsating mass that was their audience grew to a peak as they performed the entirety of their recently released EP, Nowhere to Spill. Kiva's pounding, meaty drums whose toms batter every prying ear, Cheyenne's brassy, cutting, and itchy guitar, and Brighton's passionate belting, all contributed to their elastic, addictive energy.

It really feels like Toothache is one of the last long-standing pillars of Flagstaff's weird little scene--the few quiet, screaming voices of contemporary anxiety in Arizona's growing infancy. They've guided us, Flagstaff especially, through to a more open, experimental, inviting, and inclusive community that grows to be so much larger now than when they'd started out. I'm trying to find new things to say about Toothache, but I'll leave it at that for now. Thank you, toothers. Stream Nowhere to Spill.

This festival, and the footage from it, is a great little snapshot--such an influx of passion and new faces and talents in every corner that came together for a beautiful showcase of sounds. We have Nyle and Bryce to thank most for this and the passion of the people here, you supporters from every crowded room, to be eternally indebted to. 

It was hard to look back onto the Cenöbite footage without some residual sense of despair. While they are onto better things (if you are unaware, they have rebranded completely under the name journal), my feelings are still tinged with bitter nostalgia looking back on the history of such beautiful noise. The stripped down, acoustic renditions they of these songs they performed that night added to that bittersweet feeling. Jack's smothering riffs were reduced to the subtle acoustic crunch against Zander's brushed and popping drums--under, of course, Love's infamous wretches, which were still in-tact and painful as ever. Brady could unfortunately not make it, leaving an empty hole in their sound and a taste for the seeds that would eventually become journal.

The IDK Why was an unexpected treat and callback to an even earlier era of Cenöbite, the chorus'd acoustic guitar a creamy taste of their more melodic roots. I know the band may disagree, but this was probably my favorite set/moment from the night. There was an unmatched intimacy and sweetness here that made me fall even deeper in love with them. Stream Split.

Speaking of bands lost in the transition, Monette took the stage with an immediacy that demanded to be heard. It breaks my heart that this is (almost certainly, but I guess you never know) the last blog post I'll write about Monette. Seeing them reach new peaks in every song had made me obsessive (as, if you've been reading these posts, you'd know very well)--songs like I Chose to Push showing them at their most inventive and pushy, and We Belong Arrested giving them the space for one last reinvention before their sendoff.

Bremer's guitar riffs were electric and awkward in the most satisfying way, Adi's bass still a ball of meat underneath a clusterfuck of her own tongue-twister lyrics, and Bryce's jolting rhythms held the band together more in the nature of a trapping spiderweb than a steady backbone. Everything is weird, everything is new, and everything is over. Stream Torn. 

More than just the stage was eaten by Police State and their hunger for more, the side area was as well by their accompanying five-piece orchestra. Stewing in the creeping blackness and atonal brass riffing, tension was there. They took over the rest of the night with a whopping fifty minute set filled with jazz, atonal compositions, pounding post-rock expanses, and proggy full band and orchestra blasts à la Swans. Police State, for every minute of their performance, was bold, in your face, and mastered the audience with their own self indulgence. 

Anders took the role of conductor and figurehead--yearning through intimate guitar passages and thrusting into grating pedals of distortion. Gage and Aiden were rhythm machines--each kick and pluck perfectly placed and synthesized to the sporadic, simple, and crying. Tyler switched between saxophone and guitar, his leads and screaming sax solos sweeping over the fragile dryness of the strings and their crying trumpet/saxophone counterparts--whose dreary passion invigorated the feedbacking depravity of the core band's compositions. Stream "Slow Violence, and a Silent Rise."

I am significantly sadder for having reflected on this and realizing that this blog and video are some of the last released evidence for such a fruitful, beautiful time in a scene that has begun to pass on to something new. Keep supporting music. Support new artists as they arise. You never know what's in store if you do. Thank you all for the patience and for reading. 

-Foster

See Hernia with Distances, Headhunt, Face Pulp, and Vacant Skies on March 2nd at The Legion.

See them also with Sinister Feeling, Kidnapped, Groin, MILK, and VERGÜENZA on March 20th at BCC.

See them also with Mormon Mincers on April 3rd at Tall Skinny House.

See journal (formerly Cenöbite) with Washer, perra, Multo, and Love Letter on February 24th at Chain Reaction. 

See them also with Me + You, Just Let Me Go, and Gayt on February 25th at Bad Dogg Compound.