[0]This past April (21-23, to be precise), the fine city of Providence, RI, USA played host to the sixth Terrastock [1] music festival (cleverly titled Terrastock 6), which gathered some 35 of the finest artists in the contemporary psychedelic rock / folk / avant / whatever scene for what surely rates as the underground musical event of the year. Luckily, several members of our Deep Water team were able to attend the festival, and with a little bit of editorial arm-twisting we managed to convince them to reflect on their T-stock experiences in a round-robin conversational fashion via the magic of email. So, without any further ado, your editor will get out of the way and turn the floor over to: Mats Gustafsson (MG), Lee Jackson (LJ), Nathaniel Rasmussen (NR), and Heraclitus Franklin (HF). Take it away lads!

HF: I think we definitely need to start by giving major kudos to the folks behind the festival, especially Phil McMullen (longtime visionary behind the Ptolemaic Terrascope publication and the Terrastock festivals) and Jeffrey Alexander (of the excellent group Black Forest/Black Sea, the Secret Eye label, and the AS220 club). It’s probably totally oversimplifying things to see it as Phil providing the inspiration and Jeffrey providing the organization, especially since they both chose the roster of artists that appeared over the weekend. In fact, I know that some folks wondered in advance if that might not lead to a somewhat schizoid fest—Phil and his mates over here, Jeffrey and his gang over there... But I think the scheduling of the groups helped mitigate against that, and one thing that really worked for me was the diversity of sounds on hand, as you could walk from a set of solo acoustic guitar instrumentals to a noise-rock maelstrom to catchy pop to avant experimentation without ever losing a sense of flow.

A little scene-setting for folks who weren’t able to attend: The fest was held in downtown Providence in two extremely different venues located next door to one another. There wasn’t really much else in the area—a Cuban restaurant around the corner, a brewpub down the street, and some office buildings—but that was fine ‘cause it meant that everybody stayed focused on the nonstop marathon of sound. The one venue was a small-ish club/gallery called AS220 [2], with a kind of boxy main room that supposedly held 350 people (tho it was often crowded with quite a bit fewer, given the propensity for attendees to sit on the floor; simple geometry will tell you that a sitting person takes up about twice as much floor space as a standing one, and that was actually one of my few minor annoyances of the fest—having trouble getting into the room for a set I wanted to see b/c a bunch of people were camped out on the floor) and a bar and taco counter attached. The staff was great, really friendly and tolerant, and the club had nice sound throughout, props to everyone there.

The other venue, the Pell Chafee Performing Arts Center, was a couple of doors down the street, and it was a total contrast: a huge open space somewhere between Grand Central Station and a medieval cathedral, massive square footage overhead, and roughly the sonics you’d expect from that setup. Some of the bands really seemed to be struggling with the sound, especially early in the weekend; though Bardo Pond, who headlined Friday night, just decided to blast the room into submission with pure sonic destructo-power (some reports had bits of something -- masonry? -- drifting down from overhead by the end of their set), kind of like sticking your head into a jet engine; and the sound did improve as the weekend went on.

Nestled in between the two spaces was the small merchandise room, which sadly (or perhaps wisely) I avoided for most of the weekend... I’m sure I missed tons of cool stuff; on the other hand, I can afford to eat this month. And of course, a key part of the scene was the crowd itself, several hundred shaggy furry bohemian types trooping dutifully back and forth between the rooms at roughly 50-minute intervals...

[2]LJ: Phil has definitely been a big influence on my development as a fan and writer. From the earliest days of Terrastock (I really got into this whole thing right around the release of Succour in ‘96, a year before the first festival), it’s been a holy grail, a way in to this hidden community of likeminded obsessives and idealists that occasionally emerges to take flight for a few glorious days. And for all its flower children trappings, it’s a remarkably down to earth and coherent crowd—people that are into some fairly edgy things but still genuinely appreciative of the past. I’ve never found anything else like it.

In recent years Jeffrey’s increasingly excellent Secret Eye label has brought bold new sounds by the likes of Urdog, Avarus and Spires That in the Sunset Rise into the equasion. His vision, his obvious love for this “scene” and its developing influence on the world as well as his willingness to embrace different sorts of artists has proven deeply inspiring. So, while someone from afar could’ve accused Jeffrey of padding the lineup with maybe too many Secret Eye artists, that would’ve entirely sidestepped the fact that Urdog, Spires That in the Sunset Rise, Avarus and Larkin Grimm are some of the most interesting developments to emerge in this Terrascopic scene since the last festival happaned back in 2002, and they embody it too. They’re unique, psychedelic, challenging, uncompromising musicians. In fact, this was Urdog’s last live show, so I was doubly honored to be in attendence. And Jeffrey, like Phil, is someone who does it all purely for the love, one of those guys who is following his bliss and maybe not enjoying all the spoils of commercial success in the trad sense, but he’s releasing music he respects deeply and getting rich in other ways, making contacts with interesting people, touring with his amazing band Black Forest/Black Sea when possible, and doing this over the last few years put him in a position to really bring it all together for this latest Terrastock.

The flow of the music this time out was simply incredible. It was my third Terrastock, and this one took the cake in terms of scheduling, sound design, everything. It almost seemed like each set was longer, yet I never really noticed any overlap. The schedule was adhered to closely, yet I regularly found myself completely forgetting about what was coming next and just sinking into each performance as if this band or that were its own festival headliner. Definitely was the case when Avarus took the big stage! Sure, AS220 was a little tight for the sitting crowd, but I loved that room, and aside from not being able to see the silver face-painted Urdog entirely during their set, have no complaints at all. Ok, it did get a bit hot in there after a while, but thankfully no one was forcing me to stay at gunpoint.

[2]MG: One of the things that I enjoyed the most this time out was the remarkable contrasts. That’s very much the case both when it comes to the two different venues that were used as well as the music at hand. To within minutes make the mental journey from the masterful burst of high energy mayhem of Lightning Bolt to the delicate folk-psych-old timey songs (with a certain emphasis on tragic deaths, forbidden fates, jilted love affairs and stormy suicides) of Marissa Nadler, or to go from PG Six’s slightly bent perspective on folks like Gram Parsons and Neil Young to the endless crescendos of Bardo Pond is nothing less than spectacular. Or what about experiencing St Joan right before Kinski, Bridget St John next to Paik and Ghost’s somewhat bombastic (I think someone even referred to their set as some sort of Japanese rock opera) performance before the closing guitar set from Jack Rose. I don’t know if it comes back to having a diverse taste when it comes to music or not, but I do know that I loved these changes in mood and style. I am also positive that they never could have taken place anywhere else with the same kind of obviousness, as they tend to do at Terrastock festivals.

Like Lee, this was my third Terrastock and when it comes to line-ups I don’t think anyone has come as close to my soul as this one. The mix between old and new (as well as a genuine interest to discover new music) has always struck me as one of the major qualities with the ‘Scope and that sort of atmosphere was very much present here as well. Old favorites side by side with newcomers. Charalambides side by side with Brothers of the Occult Sisterhood. Life just doesn’t get any better folks.

NR: In terms of experience, I’m a relative newborn to the glistening sonic microcosm this festival represents. My first Terrastock then served fully as a bona-fide rite of passage.

I’d like to start by thanking everyone who was there for making it so damn relaxed. Nowhere else have I crossed paths with so many strangers, knowing they were friends. I’ve been to some great music festivals before, TS6 was different: in a word, easy.

That the sum of my experiences through it all was so seemingly organic speaks to the forethought and hard work of those involved. It’s not by chance that 35 bands played on schedule within a tidy 3 days, and you had a chance to see it all. It’s not a fling of fate that you could casually stride from an intimate “gallery show” of tribal incantation (Urdog) through a portal to an effectively conjured (and relevant) ‘71 Grande Ballroom aural assault (Major Stars).

True, the array of sounds emanating from the two stages yawned wide enough to lead me to occasionally ponder continuity yet every time the thread was not only very present, it was to me the most noticeable feature. So what was this golden thread? I’m not sure I can do it justice. I’m interested in discussing it though. The rampant facial hair might be some sort of indicator; so might Lee’s observations about peaceful juxtaposition of the crunchy with the edgy. There was even ample room for theatrics, from Larkin Grimm’s amazing tact in channeling feminine command through her Appalachian tradition to Ghost’s bittersweet requiem/”f-you” to a certain administration. There’s something fantastic at the center of all this, and my synapses are fired to ponder it further.

[2]HF: So yeah, what the heck was with all those beards? There did seem to be a “shaggy” contest that I missed the announcement for, though many attendees seemed to have known well in advance (I mean, a 6-inch beard does not grow overnight)... I suppose it probably fits in some way with the general avant-folk direction things have taken of late—is it “folk” or “avant” that equates with “untamed hair growth”? -- and while I think most were probably going for some kind of “organic-earthy” look, in the midst of my delirious exhaustion I’m afraid I sometimes couldn’t escape the feeling of being surrounded by a troupe of bohemian muppets (at one point I could have sworn I saw Animal with the Menamenah guy, but I suppose there’s a chance that might have been the absinthe talking)...

At the same time, almost everyone I met there seemed well-meaning and sincere, and I also pondered the elusive thread that wove together the seeming diversity of sounds (and the hirsute splendour). I think Nat might have touched on something with his invocation of 1971 in relation to Major Stars. If there was one reference point I kept coming back to throughout the weekend, it was some kind of historical/genealogical connection to the varied sounds of the early 1970s rock underground, though not necessarily tied to any particular place or moment... It’s like the operative reference points that today’s musical adventurers are building on seem to come mostly from a broad-based swath of subterranean sounds from the later stages of the hippie dream—after the unity of the psychedelic-butterfly Aquarian consciousness had split and fragmented into dozens (or more) different directions in sound, a time that’s often mischaracterized by consensus rock history as a fallow period begging for the rise of punk rock, but that (as recent trends in reissues have shown) was actually a playground of open possibilities that stretched from the traditional to the avant-garde. By that point, “We can change the world” had morphed into a whole plethora of alternative options both aesthetic and social that at the time gradually had less and less to do with one another...

But what I found so cool about the “state of the underground” (ye gods, what a pretentious phrase; please nobody else use it!) as seen through the lens of Terrastock is that there now seems to be an open-mindedness about re-exploring and re-evaluating these various “lost” developments in some kind of shared musical space, reconnecting lines that never should have been broken. It could be we’re reaching some kind of postmodern mindstate where the redrawing of boundaries meets up with a renewed respect for a range of options that just a decade ago would have been anathema to most self-respecting hipsters... Thoughts?

[2]LJ: I have always been sort of envious of those who can maintain the facial scruff and not go mad with the resulting itchiness. Definitely a kind of freedom that comes at a cost. I think Franklin touches on a good point, though, which directly extends to the Terrascope in general. The early 70s is a golden age for so many reasons, from the morphing nature of the psychedelic scene, a return to roots (saw a lot of that at T-6), the development of progressive rock that was coming out of England, France, Sweden, Japan, Germany and beyond... the dawn of the punk era. And though many defining records came out in the 60s, we found more skewed variations of their sound a few years later—artists crawling further out into space or deeper into themselves. Sure there was a lot of bloat, but somehow the Terrascope knew instinctively to sidestep all that and just focus on the gold.

This is all not to suggest that there is any kind of retro fixation here, but there is something mystical about the year of my birth (1973), and it was all over the place this weekend. Marissa Nadler’s early Cohen fixation, Kinski’s Sonic Youth meets early Blue Oyster Cult attack, and Bardo Pond has always struck me as a modern day answer to the classic early 70s prog years, albeit run through a latter day noise filter. Something similar could be said about Lightning Bolt. I feel sorry for people who’d ever dare consider the era of “On the Beach” or “Tago Mago” or “Here Come the Warm Jets” as some sort of down time in the history of rock music. In a word, deluded. If you come to this “scene” from the punk perspective, you might find a few rude awakenings, but there is much more affirmation than negation of the so called punk ideal if you ask me. Terrastock is living proof.

MG: I honestly think it’s relieving that it finally seems to be ok to return to a specific part of the music history that from time to time seems to have been forbidden territories. I guess my perspective when it comes to these kind of things is that there are interesting aspects of pretty much every sonic era, so combing chosen segments of the past with the future will always lead to interesting sonic meetings if placed in the right talented hands. One of my favorite sets in this regard was the gently disturbing outsider folk, guitar drone hypnotism, free psych/improv and hippie-esque mind-expansion of Kemialliset Ystavat. The Tower Recordings comes to mind, so does Swedish folks such as Parson Sound and Algarnas Tradgard but this is so genuinely unique that it would be plain stupidity to dismiss it as another rip-off. Like most of the music presented at Terrastock 6 this is very much here and now and I am thrilled to be along for the ride.

Sure, a lot of these folks have studied the trippier sides of late-‘60s/early ‘70s psychedelia thoroughly, but there is something modern and demented about all this that feels especially relevant these days. A fucked-up world is inevitably the birthplace for such surreal musical journeys and boarding the vessel of T6 through historic times and into the present and the future certainly offers a different projection of all that madness.

[2]NR: As a long-time wearer of scruff, I have to say I’m thrilled to see it catching on again. My own beard has been getting longer of late, and I think it will continue to do so, with similar motivations as Ghost’s purported farewell to the U.S.

A great feat of the Terrascope scene (for lack of a better term) is that its inhabitants are very comfortable in their collective skin. It seems to me that the wooly masses in Providence (on stage and off) are positioned past the typical trepidation of “Am I unique enough?” Evoking a past groove, style or artist is just another tool available to exploit. I believe a lot of that has to do with where we are in history. The “global exchange of ideas” has been around long enough that if, as an informed artist, you don’t come to the table with some force of elastic irony, you’re probably just scared shitless to make your expressions public. That’s my take on the postmodern mindstate you point to, Franklin.

Lee, I think you are spot on with the punk ambience. Taken in a broad sense, I think punk applies to anyone gutsy enough to flaunt it—regardless of the individual definition of “it.” Who could say that the silver avatar of Urdog did not come to the stage with more than a whisper of sonic counter-culture? During that set, I couldn’t help but think I was watching a mythological Sun Ra tribute to all things Kosmische; I too am saddened that we won’t get to see them perform again. Similarly, Spires, with their vine-like layers of mystical percussion and haunting disharmony, are beholden to no tradition, but rippling with disparate currents, both past and present.

That sort of prescient delight in retooling tradition was even more palpable during Sharron Kraus’s set, one of my personal highlights of the festival (I have to apologize for being one of the oblivious floor-sitters that evening). The addition of Tara Burke (voice) and Helena Espvall (cello) midway through the set, deftly morphed the crystalline countryside she’d painted with her typically excellent songcraft into a darker, yet more mercurial exploration that I found as a fully satisfying antidote to Bardo’s fierce neuron fry.

I guess it distills to the fact that these musicians, taken as a whole, are justifiably confident in what they do, no matter the direction or influence. It made for some very moving listening.

LJ: And what about defining moments? Sets, songs, conversations, snapshots that are burned into the mind that summed up the weekend for you? There are too many for me to list, but I’ll go ahead and throw a few out there. Arriving Friday night to see Bardo Pond doing their soundcheck (which sounded pristine) to an entirely empty big room felt like coming home, or bumping into Erika Elder, who I had only met briefly two years before, and hearing her say “hi, Lee” as if it were only yesterday. Larkin Grimm’s triumphant set, complete with fairy choral backing and pied piper exit to the next stage. Also, having a beer with Jack Rose in a thumping Irish bar/disco at 1 AM on the first night.

On to the actual sets: The Bummer Road was simply amazing—old blues and haunted folk tunes awash in echo-drenched free jazz confusion. As a long time Tower Recordings and MV/EE fan, this was simply a godsend. I felt a similar awe in seeing PG Six’s live band (featuring Bob Bannister!), which injected the more subtle acid/trad folk sound of the albums with a very electric energy that touched upon Neil Young and Fairport Convention, while still maintaining its own haunted charm. I was so happy to see Helen Rush live, too, given the impact some of her songs with the Tower Recordings have had on me over the years.

Otherwise I thought Lightning Bolt were a total blast. I dig their albums, but the live setting is definitely where they flourish. A nice and surprising addition to the Terrastock nation. Also got a kick out of seeing Matt Valentine’s cowboy hat bouncing around in the crowd during their set. And the Charalambides were devastating (and loud). Every one of their Terrastock performances have been soul stirring to the core, and each quite different from the next. And seeing Alan Davidson perform as the Kitchen Cynics was a personal highlight; his music is so special and hard to come by (unless of course you just email Alan at kitchencynics@ecosse.net [3]).

[3]HF: Well, I had some kind of defining moment during just about every set I took in; everything in some way contributed to the larger whole. Lee mentioned Lightning Bolt, and while I thought their energy was incredible, they were also the one group that kind of “broke the spell” for me, didn’t quite seem to fit with the rest of the fest. The locals loved ‘em though, and in the long run I guess breaking the spell is probably a good thing to do, remind us that there’s more going on in the world than our (admittedly especially cool) little corner of it... (On a related note, I was talking with one of the performers at one point who was in a particularly waggish mood, claiming he was thinking of starting an official letter-writing campaign to protest the dearth of minority artists at the fest... He was goofing, but at the same time kind of making a point about keeping things in perspective...)

Favorite performances, geez... There was so much magic. Bardo Pond totally blew out that huge room on Friday night (and was the first time I’d seen them with the new drummer and with Aaron on synth). Larkin Grimm really knocked me out just as a presence, the fact that her music was so fine was just gravy; the way she led the audience on an impromptu parade from her set next door to see Spires That in the Sunset Rise made me a little giddy, I was lucky enough to be standing outside as they floated past. The acoustic guitar sets by Jack Rose and Glenn Jones really knocked me out, as my head has been there lately anyway. The 10-piece version of Tanakh that opened the fest was inspirational, and kind of crystalized whole spirit of the thing—combining the US and Italian editions of the group, many of whom met for the first time on stage just before the performance, and watching them improvise increasingly gorgeous and sweeping arrangements throughout the set... that really set my spine tingling. I think my single favorite musical moment was the all-acoustic number that Salamander did on Sunday afternoon, completely resonating the Pell/Chafee center with ringing dark raga tones and propulsive dervish rhythms, lifting me right out of the exhaustion I was starting to feel by that point and floating me somewhere up above an imaginary Eastern land for the duration.

But I’d have to say that as great as the performances were, it was the people who really made the fest. Finally getting to meet Phil, at his avuncular best, face to face was a real treat. As was watching Jeffrey running about keeping everything on the rails. Finally putting faces to the names of friends I’d known for years (including Lee and Mats) was just wonderful. Touching base with some old friends and comrades who brought along their own special wisdom (“Tulips! Tulips!”). And meeting new friends too, like sitting around on Sunday afternoon chatting with a guy named Jed, who had sat in so powerfully on drums with Brothers of the Occult Sisterhood the night before, sharing stories and talking about his great band Heavy Winged. And I could go on, but you get the idea. The crowd obviously wouldn’t have all been there, gathered from across the country and the world, without the music; but the music certainly wouldn’t have had nearly the same power and life without the people.

[3]NR: Sure, go ahead and line up 35 impossibly cool bands for me to experience, then ask me about my favorites. I’ve certainly touched on a few of them: Larkin Grimm, Sharron Kraus, Urdog, Spires. I guess I’ll try and cover the rest by venue:

I thought the train-station acoustics of the Pell Chaffee center cast a gauntlet for the musicians; use or be used. Those I thought who used it best? Fursaxa’s set rang out clear and in command, the natural reverb adding new layers to Tara Burke’s typical weave. Bardo definitely knew what they were doing there, overpowering the mortar that held the room together. Similarly, the Spacious Mind space-jammed the echoes into submission; an early highlight, for sure. Rounding out my faves here, Cul de Sac was as potent an introduction to day 2 that anyone could hope for, and Charalambides were similarly great.

AS220 was all about intimacy. Proverbial laps I found myself sitting in certainly include the amazing Jack Rose and Glenn Jones. I must concur with Franklin about Tanakh. After a decent 9-hour drive, walking into their set was the consummate transition for me; it was a delicate tonal travelogue, evoking many pastoral landscapes and colorful characters throughout. I was also moved by the lilting ballads of Marissa Nadler.

For me, I guess it all fell together with the people too, though I might use the word atmosphere. For a new face on the scene, it was incredibly inspiring and verifying to bear witness to so many people with similar passions to my own. It was all the more a thrill to actually meet and converse with some. I’m going to go back to what I mentioned at the start—everyone was incredibly approachable; making my initiation one I won’t soon forget, and leaving me hungry to do what I can perpetuate the process.

MG: Choosing favorite sets from a massive event like Terrastock 6 is like picking a favorite child, but if forced into a corner at gunpoint and asked to choose I would have to say Charalambides, Jack Rose and Bardo Pond. Well, such a list could easily include at least dozen sets but those three somehow stood out as particularly amazing.

I loved the way Charalambides managed to combine the glacially unfolding guitarscapes and minimalism of their most recent work with a stylistic return to the sound of their dark noise-folk classic, Market Square. I never thought I’d see Tom and Christina do covers from that album, and that alone made the trip to Providence worthwhile. I’ve seen these guys in the live setting a couple of times but I’ve never seen them this aggressive.

Bardo Pond did what a few of the louder acts had problems with; filled every single inch of that gigantic (and beautiful) hall with swirling down-tempo sludge and ethereal evocations. As a matter of fact such a comment doesn’t quite do the set justice as it was so loud and as full on wasted as ever—slithering, spiraling and circling their way through my skull at any given moment.

Jack Rose has been on my want-to-experience-live list for quite a while now and the way he closed the whole weekend was nothing short of spectacular. Modern, skeletal guitar beauty along the lines of the legendary Takoma Records has had a renaissance of sorts in recent years but if you ask me there’s no one doing it quite like Rose. His music does indeed recall Fahey and Basho in terms of crystal clear acoustic guitar genius and he often revisits the chord progressions of delta blues and Appalachian folk but his expression is still very much one of a kind. Add to all this a great sense of humor, an atmosphere filled with love and joy and you got yourself a worthy close to what very well might be the musical event of my life.

Ed. note: Thanks to all our participants for sharing their thoughts and reflections on the festival. Thanks also go out to those who kindly allowed us to include their photographs with this article: the legendary Phil McMullen (you can follow his regular activities at www.terrascope.co.uk [4]), Arley-Rose Torsone [5] of AS220 (she’s the club’s Communications Director in addition to a fine photographer and artist), and Michael Hentz (check out his New Thing Productions [6] if you ever find yourself in Syracuse and in need of some good live music). And of course thanks to ALL of the musicians, fans, helpers, etc. who made Terrastock a success. Here’s to many more!

Another Ed. note: FYI, if you click on all those swell images above (and all over the site), you'll get a larger version, captions, further info, etc. Have fun!