Get Better Fest 2: Even Better

I will admit that I carry a bit of a cynical attitude when it comes to the DIY punk scene. There are some pretty silly politics that go along with being tr00 punx. It always seemed to me that if you liked and supported a band, that you would want them to be successful and be able to sustain a comfortable lifestyle playing their music. For whatever reason, the DIY scene centers more around the eschewing of success in order to maintain "cred" or "scene points." The less you bathe, the more ridiculous your hair, the more obscure patches on your vest and the more limited the vinyl pressings of your albums, the cooler you are. It's this holier-than-thou set of ethos that bother me, not the music itself. So I traveled down to Get Better Fest 2 in Keene last weekend expecting to see some good bands, but to be more than annoyed by the fans of those bands. I anticipated some leering at my uncool band tees and my uncool, clean jeans. I anticipated sing alongs to anthems of the working man, while the Fest clientele texted and Instagrammed away on phones purchased with their parents' corporate paychecks, condemning the very businesses whose payrolls allowed them to attend college in the first place. To some extent, this is exactly what I found. To a far greater extent, I found a lot of people working very hard to make sure everyone had a good time for a good cause.

I began my adventure, with my lady friend Emily, pulling into the driveway of a rickety old house my brother shares with a few of his friends. There were pizza boxes and toilet paper tubes everywhere, and it took all I could o to convince myself that maybe someone in the house was making an art project composed solely of those two items. Nick, Emily walked to the Knights of Columbus, where Get Better Fest 2 was held, and started to take in some of the acts. I was unimpressed by the first few bands I saw, but Ohio's Reverse the Curse held me at rapt attention over the course of their all-too-brief 20 minute set.

Later in the evening, the lights were dimmed and I caught Nick's band, Cold Sneer. They played for like 13 minutes, and that was all of their songs and a cover. Eric wore the world's tightest t-shirt, Kevin looked nervous whenever Nick talked in between songs, and Joe seemed pretty focused on not sweating too much with his new tattoo. At one point, for reasons that were never clear to me, Sean from Burning Bridges sang a song instead of Nick. Sean is one of my favorite people. It was pretty fun watching Nick roll around screaming on the floor; he has definitely hit his stride musically since the dissolution of his old band. Most importantly, he really couldn't have found three more awesome people to be in a band with. Periodically throughout the day Emily and I walked back to Nick's house to protest the "no alcohol" rules at the festival, and at various points we had great conversations about baseball with Nick's friend Tim, who is almost never happy. We also saw Eric drink Prego out of the bottle. The night ended (for me) with Old Gray, who absolutely blew me away. Thanks to Sarah for convincing us to stay. The spoken word poetry over screamo thing is a little tired, but the unbelievable musicality of the band and the epic set ender of 'Her Tongue Was Tattooed Behind Her Teeth" were enough to get me to pick up their CD. 

The next day I woke up, got breakfast and headed back to the Knights of Columbus, which smelled much worse than it had the night before. Divided Heaven and the Labor Pains both played excellent sets outside on the lawn, although the two couldn't have been much more different. Jeff from Divided Heaven, aside from being one of the sweetest people ever, sang beautifully. The Labor Pains were beautifully offensive, and got the all too serious Get Better kids laughing for a bit. Dear Leap played a tight, loud set early in the day, and their drummer was very friendly and attractive. Also around this time there was a Kristen Hoffman sighting, and I was overjoyed to be reunited with my former Clock coworker. Run, Forever played as well at some point and they were also awesome.

When the sun went down on Saturday, however, is when things got rowdy. Providence hardcore dudes Weak Teeth were the recipients of not only a human pyramid, but also a wall of hugs. A wall of hugs is a play on a wall of death where everyone runs at each other and hugs instead of punching each other in the face. Birds in Row brought the riffage and the broken English, and they were by far the best band from France I saw all weekend. 

The World Is A Beautiful Place & I Am No Longer Afraid to Die was definitely my favorite band of the whole weekend. They went on late, they didn't screw around with banter, they sounded sloppy and emotional and desperate and they were just absolutely fantastic. Tim told me to watch Spraynard so I did, and I ended up buying their CD too. Damn you, Tim. 

Full of Hell played next to last and they were absolutely awesome. Their screamer paced back and forth screeching like a velociraptor and I came out of mosh retirement for a couple songs, inspired by Eric's awesome moves. Unfortunately, my neck and back aren't what they used to be, and I am continuing to pay the price for these actions. Code Orange Kids (and they are actually kids) closed out the night and the Fest with a seriously brutal set. They were absolutely crushing, and I eagerly await my next opportunity to catch them.

I saw a lot of bands, and I don't mean to gloss over the music. Obviously, I went to hear some tunes and that certainly took up the majority of my time, but what I really enjoyed was the people. My brother has a really great group of friends down there, some of whom I've known since he was a freshman. After going to the Fest last year, I can't believe how big of an improvement was made in just one year. I mean, last year was great, but the organization, caliber of bands, excellence of venue and treatment of the artists was above and beyond this year. For that, I must take my hat off to my friend Mr. Alex Lichtenauer, who honestly did an absolutely amazing job with this. The whole weekend he was darting back and forth, handling this piece of business and that. It seemed he rarely got to kick back and enjoy the fruits of his own labor, but every time I ran into him he asked if Emily and I were having a good time. That dude is a class act, all the way. So in summation, many, many thanks to the Death Haus and Get Better Records folks, Philly Tim and Sean's broken finger. I hope I can make it back next year. Cheers, fellas.