Thursday, July 4 (Day 2)
Under the Red started one of the hottest days of the week. I wasnít very familiar with the band (my watch broke the day before, so time was always half-guessed) and I was waiting for Canary to come on. I mostly sat against a wooden pole to rest from standing for almost three straight days, but quickly stood up after I heard them covering a version of ìRed Stars for Revolutionî (by one of my old favorites Octane Blue). The lead vocalist/guitarist (Josh Henderson) looked at me surprised when he saw me singing along. He even yelled out during the song, ìSomeone actually knows it!î I guess I made his day (and they made mine since it had been so long since Iíd heard that song).

I saw Canary open for Luxury at the Greenhouse almost a year earlier and was curious if the bandís sound had matured any. I liked A Sound of Summer Running, but it wasnít by any means brilliant. With their new material, Canary has left their Fugazi and Rites of Spring influences to play more powerful, more confident rock. ìMake Upî was a highlight of the set with its anthemic chorus and loud guitars. Lee Bozeman made a special guest appearance on ìRadio: K/I/D/Sî and murdered the mic stand as he always does. Perhaps venues should have mic stand insurance for people such as Lee (Iím sorry, that was a really bad joke).

The heat got to me, so I bought a cream soda freezie and walked over to the New Band Showcase as Moss Eisley played ìTelescope Eyesî (a song someone sent to me over Audiogalaxy before it folded). This band has much promise with its melodic pop/rock (like Sixpence None the Richer meets Travis). Itís hard not too mention that the band consists of three sisters, and a brother (plus a friend), but that sibling chemistry seemed to show onstage as the youngest sister had a little disagreement with an older sister. Hey, when itís hot, weíre all a little irritable, so I donít blame them.

While listening to Moss Eisley, I met Emil Nikolaisen who I had been corresponding with more or less over the past nine months. I have admired his past work in Royal and now in Silver, but it was cool meeting him in person. He was so appreciative of the wonderful atmosphere that Cornerstone had been emitting so far. We talked a little about his home country, Norway, and the festival he puts together (DP Festival). It sounds like quite an event. Maybe next year.

Emil and I sat down on the grass to watch Lasso, a country/folk band actually well-suited for an outdoor festival (but I would have still liked it much better in air conditioningÖ hell, I wouldíve wanted the whole festival in AC!). The music was straight forward and very well accompanied by the occasional harmonica and synth B3, but it was Tim Miserís girl-back-home-on-the-farm vocals that made it all. Unfortunately, he had some mic problems, but it didnít detract any from his earnestness.

My first real introduction to Christian alt-rock was The Choir and to see them play was a special treat for me. Sure, the Silent Planet tent was filled with middle-aged men and women, but I noticed two punk rockers paying respect to the guys who probably got them into music. Derri and Steve played stripped-down versions of old Choir songs along with a few covers ìshowing [their] age.î Derriís voice is still as calming and gripping as it was on Circle Slide.

I hung out at Breís campsite along with Melissa, Mike, and Beth until Melissa and I went to the Underground Stage to see The Colemans. I had always heard about this band, but never bothered to check them out. But I reasoned that I like new wave and trash rock, so The Colemans should be good. It seems like the band had groupies standing in front doing hand motions during the songs. How cute. Speaking of cute, Steph Coleman is the one of the cutest girls ever to befall my eyes. I wish I had taken advantage of that $15 deal they had (a shirt, a CD, a button, and a sticker).

Melissa and I had a difficult time deciding between Rosie Thomas and Reels of White Softly Flow (an improvisational post-rock/math-rock band with revolving line-ups), but eventually chose the former. Iím glad we went to Rosie Thomas because her voice just made the entire festival for me. Itís such a stark contrast between her beautiful singing voice and extreme nasal speaking voice (which, I guess, aids in her comedic act). She had some guitarist and Matt Johnson (Roadside Monument) backing her on a few songs, but all you really need is just her and a guitar or piano. I absolutely loved her Stevie Wonder cover even though Iím not all that familiar with his work, but her fingers worked magic on those keys as her voice floated above the night. Marry me, Rosie? Please?

While the youth group kids were getting their skank on at the Main Stage (Five Iron Frenzy), I was aurally pleasured by Unwed Sailor. I watched Johnathon Fordís fingers as they moved all around his bass and created peaceful scenes of snow (in 90 degree weather), flying kites, and holding hands. Despite the band being apart for quite a while (due to Nic Tseís move back to London), Unwed Sailor was surprisingly tight. Nic had apparently learned a few tricks while in his hometown and live-dubbed his guitar parts to layer melodies. Our greatest hopes were quenched when the band played ìFirecracker.î Yes, all was well.

Tonight, Daniel Smithís band was called Danielsonship representing the male members of the group. Dressed in purple robes (or ìdressesî as Daniel joked), the music inspired a number of conga lines through the crowd and silly dancing. Sufjan Stevenís addition of the banjo made the songs all the more enjoyable. Itís funny how Danielson gets all this press, but still doesnít have all the recognition they deserve.

While my friends went to The Violet Burning, I faithfully attended the Zao show. I stood farther back than normal to avoid the pits, but as soon as ìFive Year Winterî began, a pit opened up right where I was standing. A little annoyed, I soon realized that there were some young kids around me and knew they werenít very experienced with pits (which I, unfortunately, am). I took it upon myself to make sure they were protected and didnít do anything stupid. When I could get away from the pit, I enjoyed watching Russ Cogdell absolutely go mad on stage. It was almost like the line-up I remember from my first Zao show (minus Brett Detar, plus Scott Mellinger). They played material mostly from Where Blood and Fire Bring Rest and Liberate te ex Inferis (much to my delight). Jesse Smith announced that this would be their final Cornerstone and their final tour. As much as I hate to see Zao end, theyíve had a long run and too much drama to keep the band going. They encored with a powerful rendition of ìRavage Ritualî and I knew that my love for metal and hardcore could still live on (despite the past weekís horrible representations of the genres).

Friday, July 5 (Day 3)
Perhaps it was the overwhelming fanboy excitement to see Roadside Monument at midnight, but giddiness ruled the day.

Synth pop took over the first two hours at the Decapolis Stage starting off with Goat Explosion. The misnomered trio played not angry, sludgy metal, but rather Smiths-influenced synth pop with enough coyness to make you blush. The vocalist came off completely pretentious, but in a flirtatious way with an ever-so subtle sensuality. The songs kept things on the soft side, but they made me smile and shake my groove thang to ìYou Go to Your Doctor, Iíll Go to My Disco.î

Serious Joy Electric fans are really strange. The four people standing behind us dressed in costumes (one, a red teletubbie) and Ronnie Martin seemed to notice as I saw him give a small chuckle (I later found out that the group was Juan and his followers, so that made perfect sense). Ronnie, Jeff Cloud, and a live drummer put much into the performance (mainly material from The White Songbook), but unfortunately got cut short due to technical problems. Joy E played ìStarcadiaî as much they could until the much needed volume at the climax just wasnít there.

The boys from Lights for Nero are the current roommates of Melissa and Beth, so I thought Iíd check them out since Iíd heard a little about them. Opening with solo sax, the crowd stood still as if waiting for the attack. Soon enough, the band launched into full-on metal firepower and I was immediately pushed the side of the tent as the pit opened (I lost my lens cap in the process). In light of all the bad hardcore and metal Iíd been hearing, this interesting mix of jazz and metal was breath of fresh air. The South Carolina crew put together signs with lyrics on them to chant. I took one picture of a sign guy moments before he dove off the stage.

I sat at Breís campsite and listened to Jan Krist nearby at the Silent Planet Stage. Jason (from Opuszine) remarked that he liked Jan Krist, but wished that it was her daughter playing (Amon). I whole-heartedly agree. I miss her voice dearly.

We went and saw Me Without You play again, but stood in the back. Aaronís voice was almost gone, so he spoke most of lyrics (which still worked well) and left the screaming to the crowd. That kidís going to do vocal damage if he doesnít watch it.

Underoath and Narcissus played as kids moshed and swung their arms. Two Thirty Eight played basically the same material from Tooth & Nail Day, so nothing new to report other than that Iím skeptical about the new songs.

I stood behind Encore 1 to watch The Kick. Louis (ex-Dear Ephesus) finally gets to front a band. Are they any good? Meh. I was actually hoping to catch some of The Blamedís second show before I got a good spot for Roadside Monument, but no such luck.

I headed over to the Underground Stage and sat behind as Headnoise ended their set. Itís amazing that I happened to catch them at the New Band Showcase in 1997 when only 40 people were in the audience. That night the tent was overflowing and they really deserve it. Their punk rock is great and they donít front about their faith.

As soon as Headnoise finished their worship set, I ran in to secure a spot up front. Unfortunately, I got about three rows back putting me into a bad picture-taking position. Roadside Monument brought amps on the stage (two for Doug) and Matt completed putting his kit together. We all stood patiently waiting and knowing that we would never forget that night. The anticipation and hype for this show was so high (as Doug told me earlier that day), but none of us would have even minded if the band royally screwed up. We were there to see our favorite band.

ìWhat song are we doing?î Doug asked. ìOJ Simpson,î Johnathon replied. We all immediately cheered with glee like school girls.

I honestly donít remember everything about the show. I have a bad memory like that. I do remember Doug improvising ìCrop Circlesî and all of us singing ìWhere are all my friendsî at the top of our lungs. There was an incredible energy in the tent at that moment as if all our anguishes were being released at once leaving the crowd in a wonderful state of exhilaration. I donít think one person could leave after that and not be inspired. Watching Matt Johnson in action was a treat in itself, but watching the mad drumming at the end of ìMy Hands Are the Thermometersî baffled me. Once I picked my jaw off the ground, Roadside played a new song entitled ìZizzyzx.î Doug later told me that it was a song he was working on for Raft of Dead Monkeys, but never really practiced it with the band. ìZizzyzxî reminded me of his new work in Black Eagle with Dougís recent use of echo and other pedals. I think he has also finally found his vocal range, so his vocals were his best ever on it.

After ìZizzyzxî ended, Doug and Johnathon laid the feedback heavily for more than minute leaving us all in suspense of the next song, and when the distorted bass line came in over the feedback, we all knew that the ìSperm Ridden Burdenî was to be released unto the night. Johnathon screamed and we all screamed along. It must have sounded incredible outside the tent to hear what was most likely 500 voices letting their primal energies surge through the vocal chords. The insanity increased as Johnathon threw down his bass and tortured the mic. Before we knew it, Johnathon dove headfirst into the crowd (Jason has footage of him coming straight as his video camera) and all hell broke loose when he climbed back on stage, grabbed onto the wooden pole, and shook violently with one of the fiercest looks I have ever seen. We chanted ìcarry yourî and pumped our fists to the primeval pulse. It was glorious.

We clapped, hoot-and-hollered for a good five minutes not necessarily expecting an encore, but reveling in what had just occurred. An encore would have almost spoiled that moment. Nothing could have possibly topped that performance. In fact, people stood around for thirty minutes talking about the show.

Amazing.

Set list:
O.J. Simpson House Auction
Lifevest
Taxi Riding as an Artform
John Wayne Marina
Iowa Backroads
Apartment Over the Peninsula
Crop Circles
Nothing Short of a Comfortable Situation
Compressor DistrictB
My Hands are Thermometers
Zizzyzx
Sperm Ridden Burden

Saturday, July 6 (Day 4)
My Spacecoaster has been a favorite of mine ever since I picked up a used copy of their self-titled EP on Takehold Records. John LaMonicaís voice seemed to be out, so his vocals were very raspy from the constant amount of live shows they play. The band still managed to rock out despite Johnís hindrance. I found it hilarious that all these 13 year old girls had come to show. I had seen them chatting with the band at the Lujo table. You know those Spacecoaster guysÖ regular pin-ups they are (haha).

Even though I enjoyed the Radio Yearsí simple EP, they werenít much to talk about live. John, Adam, and Aaron all seemed to feel the same. However, it was Radio Yearsí second show ever played, so I canít really hold it against them.

Unwed Sailorís second set of the week added new members from the boys of Ester Drang. The group sat in a circle and played material from the upcoming The Marionette and the Music Box. The latest music lived up to all the expectations that Iíve had for this wonderful project that will include a book with the album. Nic Tse told the audience at the first show that the music was a mix between Zelda and Bach. Well, I heard the Zelda with the glockenspiel and all the great synths, perhaps the ìBachî side will come out better on recording. I canít wait (when I was talking to Johnathon afterwards, I saw him give a burned CD of the new album to someone, so itís essentially done).

The rest of the afternoon was spent wasting the rest of my money at the three merchandise tents and hanging out with friends. When talking to Scott Hatch (Burnt Toast Vinyl founder), a guy named Wes came up to Bre, Melissa, and I to hand us some one-inch buttons. I had seen Adam wearing one earlier and wondered where to get it, but now I had in my possession the joke of the festival. In Tooth & Nailís standard logo, the button read, ìTooth and Nailedî and ìScrewedî where ìRecordsî usually sits. Hi-larious. Scott suggested that I give one to Brandon Ebel who was only three or four tables down at T&N central. I wish I had a picture of it to show you.

After sitting around at Breís campsite, we finally got our lazy butts up and walked to the Main Stage. We heard bagpipes in the distance and saw a hockey-masked boy duct-taped to a tree. No questions were asked, so we just headed on and decided to leave the strange site a mystery.

Pedro the Lion had already played the majority their set by the time we reached the Main Stage. I had already seen PtL back in May, so it wasnít a big deal for me to be up front or miss anything, but seeing David Bazan, Johnathon Ford, Trey Many, and Casey Foubert on that gigantic stage from the middle of the grass-made amphitheater was as ironic as it was surreal. Gypsies danced and laughed. Youth group kids hit beach balls waiting for Jennifer Knapp or Sixpence None the Richer. I sat watching all this as David sincerely poured his heart out onstage and wondered, ìDonít these people realize whatís happening?î The set ended with an emotional performance of ìSecret of the Easy Yoke.î As David sang a broken ìpeace, be stillî over and over again, I could not help but feel a strange sense that everything happening before me was the exact opposite of what David was pleading. A loud guy came onstage shortly after they finished and almost ruined the moment by telling bad jokes. Do people have no reverence for what was probably the most worshipful part for many of the attendees of this festival? It makes me wonder.

Erik (Lujo Records) had a great idea to have My Spacecoaster playing on the Winter in July Stage (a DIY stage) while people walked back from Pedro the Lion. Johnís voice was out, the equipment was dying, but the band kept going with a number of new songs as well as a solo performance by John of ìStarlightî (an old favorite).

There are way too many bands that Iíve been meaning to listen to, but have never bothered due to money constraints or that Iíve forgotten to pick up a disc. Sixteen Horsepower is one such band. David Eugene Edwards apparently also has a side project called Woven Hand and the Cornerstone folks were brilliant enough to tap into this venture. I had come into the Gallery Stage that night not knowing what to expect, but saw one of the most incredible concerts of my life.

Manned with a various array of acoustic instruments (including a banjo/mandolin hybrid), David Eugene Edwards (along with an organist and drummer) stomped loudly on the wooden stage with a force of apocalyptic appalachian music that left my ears in disbelief. David would mutter under his breath and look backstage violently as if schizophrenic or paranoid (or both). His manic eyes held me in complete attention as if I were watching a southern gothic novel come to life through music. His reply of ìthank you for clappiníî to our cheers, for one moment, let us know he was not mad, but instead a human being. I know itís going to be difficult to find the German import of this album, but the memory of his transfixed face has buried itself in my mind forever. What an incredible way to end the festival.

Conclusion
Tif, Brandon, John, Rachel, and I all drove together back to Georgia the next morning around 11AM. I must admit that I was beginning to miss home. I love visiting new places, but my heart is always in the south. The drive took much longer than possibly needed due to many rest stops and short naps. I arrived at 5AM and got up at 6:30AM to get ready for work (that was a horrible, horrible day). The music of the week turned out to be better than I expected. Even though I knew the majority of the bands I saw, I still found some hidden gems. However, when I look back at all of it, none of the bands or the merchandise (most of it silly including the ìChristian pantiesî) or the heat or the unneeded golf-carts or the annoying DIY stages even mattered. Cornerstone Festival was truly about the people. I had almost forgotten what Christian community love felt like and the people I met showed me more than I had experienced in almost three years. It was like an awakening of what Iíve needed for so long. I have wonderful friends at school, but hardly any of them claim Christ. Bre and I have since discussed this ìphenomenonî via e-mail and I agree with her that the people at Cornerstone generally donít have enough time to develop conflicts, but the festival serves as a great source of rest from the world and allows us to share love. I made many friends and I hope to keep them over the years. Thank you to my wonderful campsite neighbors (Joe, Tamisha, Cody, Chrissy, Adam, and Yvonne) for all the wonderful late night discussions and shade from the hot sun. Thanks to Tif, Brandon, John, and Rachel for bringing along a stranger, though I think itís safe to call you friends now. Thanks to Emil for your kind friendship (perhaps I will come to Norway someday!). And thanks to my kindred spirits: Bre, Melissa, Beth, Mike, Jason, and the rest of the great people yíall introduced to me.

>>>part one