All Tomorrow's Parties - I'll Be Your Mirror Curated by ATP & The Drones: Day 2 Journal

Now then, it’s time for day 2. I must say after a good night sleep I’m really looking forward to today. I noticed at the end of MBV that there were a lot of weary people dragging themselves around. I guess that was the heat. The lovely cleaning lady at our motel left the air conditioning on, so we were welcomed with some luxury. Even the floor was quite comfortable, although I must confess; I do like sleeping at the foot of the bed most of the time!

Today is a little different for me. I’m in my old man's backpack. It’s a better view from his shoulders, too, I must say. We get the same security guard who starts talking to me upon the entrance. He’s talking to me in a way that he thinks I don’t understand him. Wrong. Seems like a nice chap, so I’ll let any potential disdain slide.

As we’re through the entrance, I hear a lot of people whining about the transport. We were quite fortunate last night. Dad’s friend (and a really cool customer) pre-booked a taxi so we were catered for straight away. Easy. Judging by all this complaining, my dad might be right in his theory that people aren't happy unless they’re complaining about something. Anyway, again, I’m digressing. I’ll try not to do that too much.

Cam Butler and The Shadows of Love are first cab off the rank. I have to say that I'm impressed. It’s nice meandering music. It sounds like another band that my old man plays, the Dirty Three, I think their name is, but Cam and the Shadows are a little straighter forward. But straight forward’s good for me. Don’t get me wrong, I dig my Godspeed and that but for this time of the day Cam gets the job done.

I stick my head out and see we’re in the main arena again. It seems a lot cooler than yesterday. That will quell the masses having a whinge. My Disco is pretty great. My first experience of laser lights and it’s a riot! This My Disco lot is a hard bunch to pin down though. That can only be a good thing, accordingly to my old man.

Crime and the City Solution is yet another band my old man has been giving considerable attention to this past four weeks or so. There’s a big dude on the guitar and he has a lot of tattoos. He doesn’t look as scary as those cats from Swans, though. My dad keeps telling me they’re nice guys but I’m not so sure. You know those dreams I wanted about Tex? More like nightmares about Michael Gira.

Anyway, CATCS sound like a good Sunday afternoon band to me. This Simon Bonney character really knows how to sing while the lady on the violin - Bronwyn Adams - really plies her trade with some finesse. Simon must be damn hot up there, though, with his skivvy underlay. 'Six Bells Chime' might just be my new favourite song!

Next thing I know, I’m bouncing around in my old man's backpack. Guessing he’s in a hurry, and it quickly dawns on me as to why. The Stickmen. I think it’s the band he's most looking forward to. That’s all he’s talked about in the last week. It’s driven my mum insane, although she’s also admitted prior to the event that she’s rather smitten with these dudes. After a couple of notes, I have to say that you can throw me in the same boat. These guys are rocking. They play a song called ‘Shoot to Kill’. Wow, really my saucer of cat milk, this. Apparently it’s the first show they’ve played since the nineties, too! My old man’s bobbing up and down in a room that’s emptying by the song. I can dig that though, I start jiving in the backpack, too. It’s fun!

So, why are people clearing out by the song? I think it’s because The Drones have started while The Stickmen are still doing their thing. Again, the old man is going all crazy, rushing back toward the main stage for The Drones.

We find out that Kev Carmody couldn’t make it and Gareth Liddiard (another of my favourites) announces that The Drones will be playing ‘River of Tears’ as a sort of tribute to the man. It’s damn good, too. My old man once again becomes disgruntled as it’s confirmed from a bystander that he’s missed his favourite Drones song, ‘Sitting on the Edge of the Bed Cryin'’. Well, pops, you can’t have your cake and eat it, I think to myself. I see my mum rolling her eyes. Man, she puts up with some petulance from this guy. Still, The Drones are pretty damn hot. Although my old man was sore I wasn’t, as they played my favourite song to finish, ‘I Don’t Ever Want to Change’. I didn’t tell dad, though. Anyway, it still looks as though he’s wigging out to The Stickmen. That’s all he’s telling anyone willing to listen. Saddo.

Fresh air appears to be the call, as we move to the direction of the restaurants on site. I am feeling peckish again, although I’m not really keen on cheesy chips, despite how awesome they tasted yesterday.

I’m not too keen on pizza either but that’s what I get. Ham and pineapple. The ham is a little dry. Mum gives me the leftovers of her cappuccino. Don’t you just love the froth? We hang out here for a while. The ‘rents are shooting the breeze with various associates. It’s cool. I’m glad for the fresh air and all their friends seem really cool. Being little and dare I say it, cute, I attract a bit of attention from the local punters. What can I say? I can’t help my looks, as egotistical as that sounds.

It doesn’t appear that the ‘rents are too keen on Pere Ubu. What can I do? I’m not driving this bus. In any case, my boy and his band are next up. Beasts of Bourbon. My man, Tex Perkins. Kim Salmon’s back too. I like his surname, but that’s just because I like the food. Fancy Feast do a good salmon broth, just for future reference. Anyway, Tex and the boys roll out and start crashing into "The Axeman’s Jazz". Tex is up there all manly, singing about rail works and being a drop out. He’s not moving too much, but what do you expect? Iggy Pop? There’s only one Iggy, folks. No, I’m happy with Tex, his voice is something to be reckoned with it. It’s fierce, but a good fierce. I like the song about living in Yobsville surrounded by asbestos houses. I can kind of relate to that, but don’t tell my dad; he thinks the builders took all the asbestos from our roof!

So the crowd’s thinning. It doesn’t look as packed as yesterday, but from the view of the backpack, I could be wrong. Einstürzende Neubauten is the act closing out the event. I’ve seen a few people wearing their shirts from my various peaks this weekend.

Blixa Bargeld is kind of the epitome of bourgeoisie in an ATP sense. Whatever that means. I like the first song. He’s singing about meeting up in the garden. Well, Blixa, if I wasn’t subject to strictly being a house cat (this trip aside, of course), I’d be there shooting the breeze with you, man. The third song is rocking too. I’m starting to dig this European thing. Four songs in and the ‘rents call it a night. I consider getting a little teenager and start stamping the paws, but what can you do? Fair’s fair, they’ve exposed me to the outer worlds of ATP and for that I have to say I’m thankful.

We leave the premises and there’s more buses than you can poke a stick at. What’s with the complaining earlier? Guys need to chill a little more and enjoy the experience. It’s certainly that. I had a ball. I hope I can come to ATP again. Who knows, maybe ATP can have a pet area where we’re all subject to hanging out listening to some post-rock and feasting on some cat buffet? Now that’s something I’d endure another horrendous plane journey for. Thanks, ATP. You’re the greatest!

By B "BB' K-M