Local presenter (((folkYEAH!))) has long been bringing far-flung music to far-flung places around the Bay, but this event might just be the furthest out yet. Presented in conjunction with the freaky Austin psych festival Levitation, heavy French trio Slift perform in front of a disused particle microscope at the CEMES laboratory in Toulouse, France. Described by one reviewer as “garage rock with cosmic atmosphere and mantra-like repetition,” last February’s Ummon was an appropriately massive omen for the rest of 2020. Get cosmic from the comfort of your couch with this unique livestream event.
Slift Livestream
Sat, June 5, 5pm, $3.98

“Magical realism is defined as what happens when a highly detailed, realistic setting is invaded by something too strange to believe. There is a reason magical realism was born in Colombia.”

These are the words that bookend the first two seasons of the hit Netflix show Narcos, a violent, action-packed dramatization of the life and times of cocaine kingpin Pablo Escobar. Those familiar with the works of Gabriel Garcia Marquez understand this description of the literary genre to be essentially true. The Columbian author of 100 Years of Solitude was famous for lacing his otherwise straightforward works with elements that seemed to be plucked from Tolkien, or perhaps from ancient myth.

Those familiar with the works of the late San Francisco writer Richard Brautigan will also understand the basic tenets of magical realism, even if they’ve never read a single word of Marquez. Although Brautigan’s novels, novellas and collections of poetry—from Trout Fishing in America to The Hawkline Monster—aren’t usually dubbed “magical realism,” the share similar aesthetic qualities.

In Watermelon Sugar tells of a normal man who finds himself in a psychedelic land, where the sun shines a different color every day. His first published novel, A Confederate General From Big Sur, follows the adventures of Lee Mellon—a wild bohemian character, who spends his days drinking whiskey and wrestling with alligators on either side of that rugged and beautiful stretch of Highway 1 known as Big Sur, California.

There is a reason Brautigan chose Big Sur as the setting for this story. He had become enchanted with the place—just as so many authors of his generation had. Henry Miller, Ken Kesey and Jack Kerouac spent time among its quiet redwood groves and along its craggy, cold beaches. To this day, the area remains remote and sparsely populated. Few roads off the highway are paved, cell coverage is spotty, and everyone—and everything—seems covered in a thin layer of soot from the recent fires, which swept through much of the region.

It is in this setting that our hero regularly stages his enveloping and all around magical live music events. Britt Govea, founder of the boutique concert production outfit known as Folk Yeah, has earned a reputation for hosting big-name indie groups in small venues out here in the Big South.

Panda Bear and Geologist of Animal Collective at soundcheck at the Fernwood Resort in Big Sur, Calif. Photo by Nick Veronin.

Panda Bear at soundcheck. Photo by Nick Veronin.

Back in 2008, shortly before the broke big—and years before their drummer Josh Tillman became known by the moniker Father John Misty—Govea booked The Fleet Foxes to play the Big Sur Spirit Garden. A few years after that Govea brought Canadian post-rock heroes Godspeed You! Black Emperor to the Fernwood Resort campground for an amazing night beneath the stars.

This past weekend Fernwood was once again the setting for one of Govea’s mystical musical experiences. Veteran avant-pop experimentalists Animal Collective headlined a two-night festival, filling the dusty hollow with exultant harmonies and beautifully dissonant scrambles of electronic noise.

The mood was light, spirits were high and many pupils were quite wide for the duration of the event, which spanned from Friday evening to early Sunday morning. The main event both nights was Animal Collective—who played two engrossing, career-spanning sets to a rapt crowd.

But while Animal Collective was clearly the gravitational mass around which the weekend revolved, they were hardly the only attraction. Electronic wizard M. Geddes Grengras and psych-folk strummer Jessica Pratt opened the weekend with back to back sets before Animal Collective took the stage Friday. Later that night, a band called Winter took the stage at the Fernwood Tavern, burning slowly through a glittering, reverb-drenched set, before DJs closed out the bar for the night.

Though the previous night’s festivities were certainly raucous, the following day began early for most. The music of acoustic guitars and portable stereos filled the Fernwood ravine and smoke from campfires wafted between the towering redwoods. Many took to hiking a nearby trail to a vista overlooking the ocean, while others stayed at their camps or splashed in the river.

Hiking pals. Photo by Nick Veronin.

A view from The Buzzard’s Roost. Many concertgoers hiked to this vista on Saturday. Photo by Nick Veronin.

The music began again around 4pm, with DJs pulling from an eclectic selection that included bubbly reggae and eerie choral chants. Around 6pm, Eric Copleand took the stage, building propulsive electronic freakouts from a tangle of pedals and drum machines.

Then AnCo took the stage again, like some combination of the Talking Heads, The Grateful Dead and Kraftwerk, performing in front of three massive translucent plastic busts with cubist faces, which recalled the work of Keith Haring. The post-modern Easter Island monoliths flashed and glowed, as Panda Bear, Geologist and Ave Tare cobbled together their songs—twisting knobs and cutting together loops in real time. A live drummer kept the energy high.

The stage lights shine in the gathering darkness at Fernwood Resort in Big Sur. Photo by Cristal Romero.

A fan’s hand catching at the light. Photo by Cristal Romero.

Dada-esque busts loomed over the stage. Photo by Nick Veronin.

Avey Tare of Animal Collective performs at Fernwood Resort in Big Sur. Photo by Nick Veronin.

The crowd. Photo by Nick Veronin.

The night was once again closed out by a band—excellent Big Sur locals, The Range of Light Wilderness—and another DJ set.

In the morning the campground awoke early once more and folks headed off home. Some had come from as far away as Delaware. Others came from closer—Reno and San Francisco and Los Angeles. A few had but a short drive back to San Jose, located just two hours north of the bright blue coastal waters and circling California condors of the Big Sur.

Winding our way back north, the deep blue sea vistas eventually gave way to rolling foothills and the choking gridlock of South Bay traffic. But the memories of two nights spent beneath a blanket of stars, taking in great music and crisp, cool water remained. Some of the memories were nearly too strange to believe. But then again, there is a reason Govea chose Big Sur as the place to host this marvelous musical weekend.

When Ripley Johnson and Sanae Yamada first began making music together as Moon Duo, they didn’t set too many parameters for themselves or what the group could be. “I think initially, we didn’t want to define it so much,” Yamada says. “It was more asking the question, where can we take music with just two people trying to play rock. We tried not set any limitations or strict boundaries.”

According to Yamada, keyboardist, drum machine maestro and knob-twiddler for Moon Duo, she and her musical/romantic partner just wanted to give themselves the freedom to do whatever—even if that meant turning Moon Duo into a trio. And so they did.

While touring Europe last summer, the San Francisco-bred psych rock outfit hired drummer John Jeffrey—after a glowing endorsement from their manager, and without an official audition.

“We’d been doing what we’d been doing with the drum machine for a while, and I think we were both ready for something new and fresh,” Yamada says, explaining Moon Duo’s decision to take on Jeffrey. “We just sort of took a gamble, and it ended up being really great.”

Yamada and Johnson quickly found a kindred spirit in Jeffrey. And as the band grew tighter, Yamada says they began thinking about documenting their evolving sound. “The musical chemistry was building throughout the course of the tour, so we thought we should try to record some of the shows and see if anything good comes from it,” she says.

The San Francisco-bred psych outfit had been mulling the idea of recording a live album for a while, Yamada says. They had just never felt like the time was right until Jeffrey came along.

Releasing a live record didn’t make much sense when the band was still using programmed drum loops, Yamada explains, noting that drum machines aren’t known for their improvisational spontaneity. “To me, the best live records are the ones that sound better than the studio recordings.”

In early September, Moon Duo released the six-song Live In Ravenna, recorded one blisteringly hot night in the northwestern Italian city named in the album’s title. And this Saturday, Moon Duo will bring Jeffrey, along with a stack of limited edition vinyl pressings of Live In Ravenna, to Café Stritch, where they will headline yet another (((folkYEAH!)))-hosted show at the SoFA venue.

The show will mark one of the first times that Moon Duo has ever played in the U.S. with a live drummer. Yamada says she is “psyched” to play in the States again after several trips through Europe. Moon Duo fans should be excited too—both to hear the new lineup live, and to grab a copy of the limited edition vinyl pressing of Live In Ravenna, which the band will be selling at their merch booth.

Live In Ravenna is imbued with a different kind of energy than any other Moon Duo collection, and much of that is clearly due to Jeffrey—and his free will. As a drummer, he demonstrates great discipline in holding to the repetitive patterns originally programmed by Moon Duo. Even so, the human behind the beat shines through in both a hard-to-qualify energy and in Jeffrey’s occasional off-script fills and flourishes.

The versions on the live album also feel more urgent and visceral, which may also be due to human imperfection and the tendency for live performances to be a bit faster than their studio counterparts.

While the title track of Moon Duo’s Mazes sort of hops and skips to a start, with the drum machine’s kick-snare beat and Johnson’s guitar bound tightly together. The Ravenna version, on the other hand, positively explodes—the rattling, rumbling, roaring tom-tom whacks of Jeffrey’s kit fight against the fuzz of Johnson’s guitar, which is so drenched in reverb that the chord changes are less distinct, and more like a flowing river of fuzz.

Moon Duo is in the midst of finishing up their their third full-length album, which is slated for release sometime next spring. They play Cafe Stritch on Oct. 11 at 8pm. More info.

Watch Moon Duo’s video for Sleepwalker here:

A gumbo of psychedelic rock, jangle pop, folk and punk, The Fresh and Onlys are one of the most definitive bands of the San Francisco garage rock revival scene.

Twangy guitar hooks, spacey vocals and bubblegum percussion, swirl together into a hazy, psychedelic cocktail that is quintessentially San Francisco. They play  the second in a series of three music showcases booked by (((folkYEAH!))) Presents at Cafe Stritch tomorrow night, Aug. 19.

The band is touring behind their fifth full-length album, House of Spirits, released in early June on Mexican Summer.

 The Fresh and Onlys play Cafe Stritch, Tue, 8pm. Tickets are $10 advance at $12. More info.