This year’s Fisherman’s Village Music Festival recaps are brought to you by David Arthur and C.C. Hannett, both of whom are wordsmiths of the highest degree who like to get down. Their review is comprised of real time reactions mixed with a lot of beer. The Fisherman’s Village, also known as “Fishville,” is in its fifth year and has added a free Night Market area full of handmade goods for sale and an all ages stage.
David: The Porters – there is nothing sweeter than childhood romance stuck in a reverbed auditorium. It’s how I imagine a whisper can echo throughout a canyon.
C. C.: “If I ever lose my mind / hook me up to the power lines” or, rather; provide me the comfort I know I’ll find with The Porters. Delicate plucks promote soft resonance and calm, provided especially by the Schack. No better way to start Fisherman’s.
C. C.:“This is a song I wrote when I was in Sweden one time,” Molly Parden opens up with spatially aware Kentucky-rooted waves which, over time, shape you into the fold of a story you didn’t know you were already a part of.
C. C. on Laura Viers: We put our ears to smoke and listened to a legend nod to other legends like Carol Kaye, a local Everett native, and fluffed the flora of our lungs as we relaxed our breath and inhaled intimate throwbacks from her catalogue.
David: I was just kidnapped by a little old lady in a motorized wheel chair!!! It was the sweetest thing ever… oh yeah… King Mammoth!
At which point King Mammoth launched into their brand of psychedelic space-journey rock. Perhaps the little old lady was reliving the sixties?
C. C.: Oliver Elf Army took my Doc Brown frizz of a hairstyle and slicked it back Jack Nicholson style with the intensity of Harvey Danger. Everything you have heard is true.
C. C.: W/ all the bodies and mugginess from the spritzer outside; Black Lab was a sweat lodge, but it didn’t keep me or any else from planting our stomp-makers front and center when Sleepover Club blasted a mosh into the audience. It’s like lighting a cherry bomb with Twizzlers.
David: Who the hell looks forward to a Thursday? It feels like someone shoved Thursday through the flux capacitor and made it a Friday. I never thought I could be on board with this kind of policy. But then the loud yelling of camaraderie began to echo on the sidewalks as people shuffled to the next venue for another music venture. Yup… Fisherman’s Fest started and Everett began the spirit a bit early…
Wimps closed out night one of Fishville with a spunky punky set that meshed well with a crowd already super primed by the previous bands. It was humid, sweaty, and great.
The previous comments may require visual explication. Please peruse the gallery below to gain a fuller understanding of the evening.