Upon crossing the threshold of the gleamingly modernized Echoplex, my instincts concerning any kind of West Coast/East Coast rivalry were instantly reaffirmed as Best Coast lulled me into a mellow haze to which no New Yorker can ever really relate. It was the warmth of the sun at night delivered via the songbook of happily bummed melody maker Bethany, with back-up by Bobb Bruno. Best Coast was direct and honest. You could just feel the crowd’s peaceful contentment flow in like the tide. Plus their cover of the Ramones’ “I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend” was choice.

After an extended tuning session, Ganglians take the stage and my mood changes. Imagine a whale beaching itself and you are right there: fascinated yet taken aback and not sure what you feel. Ganglians’s music demands a significant investment into the longhair neo-psych on the Woodsist tip, but it just wasn’t working for me. They didn’t really say anything and I was there, ready to listen. There were definitely cool moments—some song about a heart attack was pretty great. Maybe their set was just too echoed out. It just didn’t ring my bell.

The Soft Pack, formerly known as the Muslims, took the stage like it belonged to them and just did not let go. These guys are straight ahead crazy rhythm rock ‘n’ roll. The best parts of the early Modern Lovers, the Feelies, Wire and the Velvets are delivered with “Fuck it, let’s dance!” swagger. The audience responded in kind. Some joker even tried to mosh and was TAKEN DOWN by a bespectacled gent half his size. It was beautiful like National Geographic. Soft Pack drummer Brian plays with just as much originality and abandon as Moe Tucker, putting a jerry-rigged cocktail kit being through its paces with equal parts precision and ferocity. These guys were tight, telepathic and tuned in. I‘ve felt the same kind of tranquil delirium out on the ocean surrounded by surfers—me sponging on my boogie board—when it all just makes sense. Kids were dancing on the side of the stage, in front of it, on top of it… No poses, no frills, just rock.

Wavves rolls on stage, wide eyed like a robo-trip. Fresh from Spanish controversies, they did what they do—careless chaos with childlike ingenuousness. I know a lot of people really are buzzin’ about this stuff, but I just don’t get it. The idea of it seems more rehearsed than the songs, especially in a live setting. If this makes me out of touch, so be it. I see what people like about it, but Wavves just sank my boat that night after I’d been riding so high.

—Eyad Karkoutly