As close to a scene report as contemporary noise can afford, No Fun Fest, with Carlos Giffoni at the helm, each year confronts problems of selection. Over three nights, some 25 acts say their piece, spanning a vast geography of provocation and anomie. But how to organize such a spread?
Issues of sequencing carved this first night into awkward, unconversant provinces. Reliance on the Music Hall’s single stage — in stark contrast to the Knitting Factory’s three variegated tiers last year — forced every juxtaposition and prevented sonic refuge anywhere but at the bars (three!) or the merch zone. Surely, this format appeals on some level, a force for equalization and eclecticism. Yet, all the same, it cripples the element of choice: the harshmongers were left out to dry during the set of antiseptic synth-wave excreted by Xeno and Oaklander — a curatorial choice that, in the name of variety, really debased the sense of fest-wide mission.
Read the rest on Tiny Mix Tapes.
Words: PRSE (here) and Emilie Friedlander (elsewhere)
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