Written by: Laura Foster

Photography by: Peter Thor (@peter_thor_)

It was good to be back at Russian Hall. Less prestige than a theatre maybe, but there’s something about a community hall that feels right for a festival so heavily steeped in, well, community: no cops paroling the area, no bouncers stationed outside the door, no tiered seats sectioning off the room. On the open floor people mingled and danced and said hello to friends, ebbing and flowing in and out of the room, upstairs and down and back up again.

6:15 Checkedout is first up on the main stage Friday, and they start it off with a bang. With colossal tone shifts and thunderous instrumentals, the band alternates between total uproar and gentler, more intimate serenades.

7:00 Bloom Effect reminds me of rippling water—Jula’s voice is the opposite of piercing; it blends seamlessly with the music, filling any given container. Their sound is slightly Cocteau Twins-esque: those spacious, swirling melodies that leave just enough unresolved room for anticipation. It gives me that warm, fuzzy, end-of-a-movie high like I’m driving off into the night with the windows open. It’s infused with simultaneous hope and yearning and freedom.

7:15 Michael Slumber is on downstairs, their stripped-back set a dark folk trio made up of guitar, keys, and a lone floor tom. There is a surreality and drama and synth-tensity to their songs that feels ominous, deploying lyrics that sound like words of warning: “death is knocking at your door”.

7:45 It had been a while since I’d seen Ira Hardly live, and watching the words spill out in real time made so many lyrics stand out to me in a new light, like “maybe I crossed the wrong rivers and walked all the wrong halls” or “if you don’t want me I promise not to linger/but […] I gotta ask about that tan line on your ring finger”. Maybe it was the sense of reunion being back in this same hall a year later, or maybe it was just the mood created by Ira’s set, but there was an almost-tangible feeling of love in the air by this hour, which struck me in particular when Ira calling out, “This song’s about social anxiety!” was contrasted by friends and strangers alike yelling support and dancing together.

8:30 The ethereal two-part harmony at the start of Jody Glenham’s set quickly leads into a full-throated rock performance. The twinkly synth melodies in part give the music a vintage feel, but mainly it is Jody’s timbre and rhythm, which is boppy and soulful and Stevie Nicks-ish, that gives it a slow-dance sentimentality. No sooner do I have this thought than, in the break between songs, does Jody say, “I hope someone falls in love tonight,” and I think someone probably did. With a voice and heart big enough to fill any room and rattle its windows, Jody Glenham’s open-armed, soaring songwriting captures both the celebratory and community-minded nature of the festival.

9:00 Phuture Memoriez is on downstairs, which seems to be where the party is now happening. Clad in matching red balaclavas and socks, their lead singer sporting an “I HATE HUMANS” T-shirt feels ironic given the crowd’s unabashed enthusiasm. Experimental, a little math rock-y, and quite frankly just fun, Phuture Memoriez is aptly named, as it is certainly an act to remember.

9:30 Worrywart is another repeat artist from last year whose sound, despite down-sizing from a six-piece to five, has only grown since then. It’s a rare and joyous thing to watch an artist both hone their craft and maintain their authenticity in a way that is so well-received. Which is to say, it’s one thing to play to a room full of people, but to see a room full of people be electrified by a performance start-to-finish is a feat undeniable.

10:15 The room gets very quiet for Spencer Krug’s set. He has a theatrical quality to his songs in the stripped-back intimacy of his lyrics and musicality, a special highlight of which was his rearranged solo rendition of “I’ll Believe in Anything”. There’s something about a person sitting at a piano (they look so small next to that big instrument), serenading a room with lines like “Give me your eyes / I need sunshine” that is enough to make old wounds bleed anew.