On a few occasions over the years, I've employed google to help me find any documented evidence of one of the strangest outdoor music festivals I ever attended. It was the Indie 500, organized to launch Jiffy Boy Records, in Vincentown, NJ. I decided to look again today, because I'm going to see one of the bands that played it - Small Factory. I haven't seen them since. Incidentally, my friend Mike and I crashed with some members of Small Factory in a Princeton dormitory after inquiring about the camping, which WNYU (or was it 'FDU) told us there would be in their concert calendar. No, there would not be any camping.
As for swag - I bought a Swirlies CD and a festival T-shirt I've since lost. I also have some photos, not in digital form, that I won't dig out to scan any time soon probably.
The funniest part, besides not being able to camp, was Mike's reaction to seeing the half-serious "No Biohazard T-shirts allowed" sign at the improvised entrance. He was worried, because the only other shirt he had on him, for the next day, was a Biohazard one. In his defense, they were sort of a regular act at Studio One in Newark, NJ. They loved them there. (I did not).
Google delivered, this time. http://www.appelstein.com/cif/live2.html is where I found it, with no author attributed, but it's probably by "Appelstein."
Republishing it here, without a means to contact the author.
Brandon Stusoy's dad's house, Vincentown, N.J.
July 3-4, 1993
So Brandon and his friend Marc are starting a record label called Jiffy Boy.
They chose to kick off their release schedule with a two-day fund-raiser.
Somehow, Brandon convinced his father to let him set up a stage in the
backyard, invite total strangers on the property for two days, and (as the
homeowner) take implicit responsibility for any damage. I'd love to know what
Brandon's sales pitch was. Having spent last Independence Day in NYC and hating
it, this seemed like the better way to spend the holiday weekend.
As we drove down Route 206, passing the cheap motels
(including the "Slumberland Motel") Wawa convenience stores and the
coin toss outside of a gas station, I pondered the whole New Jersey white-trash
experience, from which I managed to escape, and how convenience stores and
teenagers fleeing for college fit into it all. After making a left at the three
bikers hanging around a Wawa parking lot, we were there. The stage was
constructed from two hay trucks covered with a tarpaulin just low enough to
obscure the heads of particularly lanky band members. In one corner of the yard
was a concession stand selling fanzines, records, Shop-Rite soda and Snapple.
There was a sno-cone machine later in the day. A band called Ritual was playing
as we arrived. Presumably representing the Vincentown scene, they featured a
singer who jumped around a lot and a sludgy Black Sabbath/Flag sound. They were
the first of 14 bands that afternoon. I won't attempt to list everyone, but I
will say that Sugarshock had a great animated drummer that nearly redeemed
their overall ho-humness; Spent and Uncle Wiggly were both very good; Smack Dab
were interesting; and the two interludes by Ian Garvey, young son of Steve
Garvey from the Buzzcocks (he was the elderly-looking English man in
attendance) were cute at first, irritating quickly.
After Smack Dab's set, it seemed like a good time to score
some dinner. Six of us piled into a car and found a pizza place back on Route
206. The woman at the counter seemed bemused: "Is there something going on
in Vincentown? I've been seeing people with passes around their necks all
day!" I tried to explain it in terms of Lollapalooza, but she just got
more confused. Yeah, I'd be surprised too I bet. We got back just in time to
miss Transilvia (no great loss) and to see Wally from The Lilys play with just
a drummer. Next up were Poole, who shined on "Tangle Up." Beth
Sorrentino even showed up to reproduce her backing vocals from the SpinART
record. By now there were a couple hundred people on the property. Just as
Brandon's dad was beginning to express concern over alcohol on the premises,
someone lit up fireworks from behind the stage. This seemed cool for about 10
seconds until I realized some were coming perilously close to the bushes.
Confusion ensued. Brandon's dad was threatening to call the cops, Todd was
berating the audience from the stage, rumor had it that the state troopers were
on their way, and I wondered momentarily if we were about to have our own
little indie-Altamont right here in Vincentown.
Actually everyone just stood around confused, waiting to see
if the Swirlies would play. Finally, they got onstage and made it through about
four songs, fueled by tension and the very real prospect of getting shut down.
Amazingly, nothing foolish happened, the crowd dispersed quietly, and no cops
Not surprisingly, the second day's festivities attracted a
smaller crowd, certainly a mellower one. There was talk of cutting the lineup
in half, but in the end only Azalia Snail got canceled (shame, I was looking as
forward to seeing her as anyone else). Most of the afternoon's lineup blended
together pleasantly. I remember a lot of Richmond bands. I also remember that
two of the New Brunswick acts, Remote Control Yeti and Mr. Thumb, were the ones
that most depended on gimmickry, failed humor and guitar pyrotechnics. RCY in
particular seemed like something Mike Judge threw away as a Beavis &
Butt-Head idea. Far better were Grit, a Rutgers guitar/drum duo who got the
most out of their two-man lineup. Later, there was Joey from the Barnabys,
whose set included covers of the Go-Betweens ("Rock & Roll
Friend") and Jonathan Richman ("Girlfriend"), and then Small
Factory, who were coming off of a cross-country tour and played a selection of
rediscovered old favorites. Drummer Phoebe was having fun, and she's often the
factor that differentiates a good SF show from a dull one.
The sun began setting, and as fireworks (legit ones!) could
be seen in the distance, Versus, Monsterland and the Pushdaisies closed out the
weekend in Vincentown. We left Brandon's backyard to the sound of Envelope's
lead singer making impenetrable comments about all the people he had to sleep
with to get this gig. That seemed as good a cue to go home as any."
Looking forward to seeing Small Factory at their reunion show in Pawtucket, RI. tonight. This time, it's on their turf.
/Yes I know, this is not a Lynn, MA. post.