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A UMaine tradition refused to die quietly Saturday night thanks to three talented bands undaunted by the low attendance. Performances by State Radio, Bedouin Soundclash and Sparks the Rescue eclipsed any Bumstock in recent memory. They were almost enough to make up for the small crowd and miserable atmosphere.
Unlike previous years, Bumstock took place in the Field House, a move meant to drum up attendance after cold weather and rain in past years drove people away. Total attendance was unclear, as many students came only for one or two bands. Joe Mollo, director of Campus Activities and Events, said staff handed out about 1,000 bracelets, but there never seemed to be more than 300 people in the Field House at any time.
Security was everywhere, with more than 25 security workers from Atlantic Professional Services and about a dozen University of Maine and Orono police in attendance. “We were anticipating 2,800,” said associate dean of students Angel Loredo. “That’s the maximum the building can hold, so we had to plan for that.” The abundance of security guards was imposing and made the concert feel over regulated.
Bumstock started out rocky when metal act and Sophomore Owls’ Battle of the Bands winners Hour Past left the venue just as they were scheduled to play. According to Derek Mitchell, vice president of Student Entertainment, the band had brought about 30 of their fans. To accommodate the band, officials waived the rule that only University of Maine students and one guest per student could attend.
Rather than have their fans pay the $20 admission fee for non-students, the band wanted them to get in for free, “which was just unreasonable,” said Mitchell, and Bumstock organizers turned down the band’s request. In protest, members of Hour Past packed up their instruments and walked offstage.
The fiasco put southern Maine’s Sparks the Rescue in the position of opening the show. The young band, whose fans had come from as far as New Jersey to see them, was happy to oblige. They opened with “The Scene Your Bedroom” from their new demo EP, which hit stores Tuesday.
Singer Alex Roy writhed, kicked and spun like a man possessed. Whenever he didn’t have a line, Roy swung his microphone wildly over his head, sometimes hurling it upward only to have it fall on himself or the floor. He later admitted he wasn’t used to the big stage lights, and that whenever he threw the mic, he’d lose track of it in the glow above him.
The guitar and bass players were almost as wild, and it was a testament to the band’s skill that they could play so tightly while constantly jumping and dancing. But the real measure of success came a few songs into the set: They got audience members dancing to an opening band.
The band chatted the audience up between every song. After “Saco Boys Have No Class,” singer-guitar player Toby McAllister asked who if the audience was on MySpace, a social networking Web site. They encouraged everyone to add them as MySpace friends, and McAllister even promised, “If you leave us a comment, we’ll comment back.”
The band thanked everyone graciously, and McAllister asked the audience to give a round of applause to the catering service. For a band accustomed to playing VFW halls and never having catered food, Sparks the Rescue had no trouble moving to a bigger stage.
Even without synth player-vocalist Marty McMorrow, who was out for personal reasons, Sparks the Rescue gave a powerful performance. Although Roy had never been to Bumstock before, he lamented the end of UMaine’s traditional music festival. “This is the last Bumstock ever,” he said before their set. “It’s sort of sad.”
Toronto reggae-rockers Bedouin Soundclash played next. The three musicians didn’t talk or move around as much, but their confident, adept musicianship drew in a large section of the audience. The band recently won New Group of the Year in the Juno Awards, Canada’s version of the Grammys, and the reasons were evident.
Their sound was reminiscent of The Clash’s reggae era. In fact, their set-closing medley cover of U2′s “New Year’s Day” included a section of “The Guns of Brixton,” by The Clash.
Patrick Anderson, a fourth-year interdisciplinary studies student, said he was a fan of Bedouin Soundclash. “I’ve never seen them before,” Anderson said, especially complimenting the rhythm section. He danced through most of their set. The only problem was poorly-placed lighting that burned students’ retinas for minutes at a time. Bedouin Soundclash drummer Pat Pengelly was seen ducking his head, trying to avoid a red light shining in his eyes. Still, their reggae often surpassed the softer songs of headliners State Radio.
Boys’ Night Out had cancelled when their drummer was hospitalized, so headliners State Radio were the third and final band of the night. Before their set Chad Stokes, lead singer of State Radio and formerly of Dispatch, was told this was the last Bumstock. “Not if we can help it,” Stokes said, and keeping the tradition alive became a theme throughout State Radio’s performance.
The band was a powerhouse onstage, alternating between melodic reggae and huge stadium rockers. Their guitars alternately rang and squealed, and Stokes’ voice soared across the mostly empty Field House.
State Radio’s new drummer Mike Najarian had been with the band for less than a month, and while he insisted before the show he wasn’t yet comfortable with their songs, his drumming was spot-on. He played along with all their songs’ dynamics and gave their sound a strong backbone.
During a long instrumental section, Stokes stopped to encourage the audience to sign a petition at State Radio’s merchandise table about the genocide in Sudan. “There’s a genocide going on and we need to put pressure on Washington D.C.,” Stokes said. “I think, as young people, we don’t realize the power we have.” The crowd roared in encouragement, and a line soon formed at the merchandise table.
In another speech, Stokes echoed his “Bumstock lives” message: “There will be another Bumstock. You just have to believe it will happen.” The messages never detracted from the music. In their last song, Stokes burst into a two-minute reggae rap with surprising timing and breath control. The swell of cheering afterward confirmed his success.
The last song began ended with the reggae refrain sped up and morphed into blistering punk rock. They left the stage and, of course, obliged the audience’s request for “one more song.” For a few hundred students in a huge, empty room surrounded by dozens of security guards and police, State Radio were the perfect final gasp for a dead tradition.
