The Best of 35 Denton Night Three: Thunder and Other Noises
There is no physical way you could carry or wear enough clothing to properly prepare for Texas weather. I thought at the beginning of the day that a sweater might have been overkill. About two hours later I felt distinctly underprepared. Actually, given that it was too much in warm weather and soaked up all of the wet weather into a delightful cold body-clinging number, a sweater is probably the worst idea. Anyway: what should you wear to a Texas outdoor event? I'll need pants, but possibly shorts, so some of those easy-remove stripper pants with shorts underneath is probably the convenient solution. I'll need footwear that is both sandal and waterproof boot. And a raincoat t-shirt. Superman managed lots of quick costume changes in challenging conditions (a phonebooth), so I guess it's not beyond any of us. Although he did have super powers.--Gavin Cleaver
-The Best from 35 Denton Night Two: Metal Wrestling and Fence Repair
-The Best from 35 Denton Night One: The Dancing, The Technological Advances and The Artisanal Jello Shots
-Interviews with Vendors, Bands, Policemen and Fans about What Makes Denton Great
-The Stage Crew Diaries: A Tribute to the Volunteers of 35 Denton
The perfect house show in Denton often showcases one of the following a) indoor furniture being used as outdoor b) keg and c) Ryan Thomas Becker. Yesterday, the Human Parquat Party had all of the above. It also had a free-standing, shockingly not-gross porta-potty, a tree house, chlie-shaped Christmas lights, and an unattended dog that was leashed to a six-pack of Pacifico. Which is now a new favorite metaphor for Denton joy: animals attached to beer. --Nick Rallo
Ryan Thomas Becker, Tony Ferraro and Grady Sandlin are troopers. At a house show, they played with the band Treelines, and with Daniel Markham next. It has to have been their sixth, seventh or even eighth sets of the weekend. I stood in awe as I wondered how all of their hands weren't bleeding. I remembered what this festival is all about, take a swig of my beer and keep rocking out. --Rachel Watts
As the storm was looming towards Denton, the growing clouds didn't seem to stop the crowd at A.Dd+ from full-out rave-dancing throughout the set. We were so overtaken by the duo, the middle section of the crowd full with hula hoops, that we were going beyond mere suggestions from the mic of, "putting your middle fingers in the air," or just putting your hands up. Sometimes your body bobs and sways to the music, other times it's a less voluntary reaction of pumps and jumps.
Someone nearby says, "Man, these kids are feeling this." And I guess that's how you know it's real. Hula hoops. --Deb Doing Dallas
At this point, it was almost fate that 35 Denton would get some rain. Last year was so cold and misty that everyone's socks were permanent sponges. Last night was a different animal. Gray clouds were rolling through the sky like a bunch of trains, and they unleashed a handful of silent, summery lightning bolts. Moments later, the house show we were at was a deluge and musicians from Sealion and Treelines were shouting, laughing and scattering in the rain. It was spontaneous, wild and perfect. (NR)
It's a logistical pain in the ass, for sure, but a little adverse weather can do wonders for camaraderie. At the height of the downpour, when you could go from dry to dripping in a matter of seconds, Dan's Silverleaf was warm and dry. It felt like a tavern at the end of some long road, with musicians and fans boisterously drinking beer and laughing. --Kiernan Maletsky
As the entire festival made their way down to The Hive to see The Cannabanoids with Sarah Jaffe, the line loomed as large as the storm. Looking around, you could see people on their phone texting to try and avoid it, scanning for a back door entrance. It would have been laughable considering the size of the crowd. But once you actually made it inside, it was a who's who of resourcefulness. Extreme weather conditions are some sort of Darwinian test of music festival natural selection. It's not always who you know. Sometimes it's just how you approach that security guy.
The Granada's Gavin Mulloy a perfect example. He approached the back entrance. Security simply looked at him and said, "Sir, you don't have any credentials." Mulloy, who did not even have the festival wristband at this point, said, "I know! I never do." Moments later, we were at the bar together.
Once everyone was inside and out of the tempest, spirits seemed intact. I heard little complaint of waiting or rain. And the beating water on The Hive's metal roof added a warmth to the quiet moments between songs, especially during The Cannabanoids set. Mother Nature joining a band of machines set quite a sonic picture. (DDD)