WAY OUT WEST IS SUPERGAY

I heard Sweden was just about the gayest country in the world, so my friend and I took a trip to Way Out West, Gothenburg's indie music festival, to see just how gay it really is. If I had to compare Sweden to a celebrity, it would be Ben Vereen circa Zoobilee Zoo. It was an award winning show and there were bright colors and a fuckload of gayness. I think Way Out West is just as gay.

According to press, "Way Out West's unique city-based format taps into Gothenburg's thriving music scenes," so I found it particularly odd that most of the bands they picked were from America, but not at all surprising that those
bands all sound like a soundtrack to Scandinavia--full of dreamy, orchestral landscapes. It's not strange that Sweden has fallen in love with that soft, sweet music--they legalized gay marriage, made sure the whole country has equal healthcare, and have been politically neutral since World War I. There's not anything to revolt, just celebrations and hugs. Plus, everyone is wildly attractive even though all they eat is herring and hamburgers.

One of the gayest American bands I saw at the festival was Local Natives, haling from California. Taylor Rice, one of their lead singers… how do I say this… OK some guys, when they wear tight clothing, look like show dogs who've had their tails snipped to better show their balls to judges. That is Taylor Rice's entire schtick, even when he takes off the little red jacket. The crowd loved it though.

The Security was apparently volunteer dads and girl scouts, so if Sweden ever did have anything to revolt, it'd be a breeze to overthrow.

The one Swedish band I did hangout with was Graveyard (totally scary dudes), who Vice reviewed sometime back, aptly giving their album a puke face, but Axel, the drummer, was mildy entertained by the review. He kept saying, "They gave us a puke face!" and we were like, "We know--that's not good." It just goes to show good guys don't have to play good music, but just know a good hash and meth dealer, which Graveyard did indeed know. They also showed us a cool tattoo shop across from a cemetery called Gothenberg Classic. We didn't bother going to their show though. Best not to screw up a good thing. Instead we went to Slow Club and The Low Anthem at the best club in Gothenberg, Pusterviksbaren--a tiny little treasure by the water.

The Low Anthem is one of those gospel-y Last Waltz type bands with an Ivy League degree from Brown, but that degree taught them to play the oboe, saw, upright bass…. the list goes on. Low Anthem's cover of "Sally, Where'd you get your Liquor from?" wasn't half bad actually, and overall the show was, you guessed it, really pretty. The crowd was all hugs and glowing skin.

Have I told you how hot the girls are here? They're super shy pixies who get caught in tree branches and prance away before you can catch them.

There were so many bad bands from the United States here that I'd be embarrassed to say where I was from if everyone in Sweden didn't love it so much. Another disappointing person to talk to was Wild Nothing's underwhelming Jack Tatum, who seemed to have scoffed at my Jack Daniels flask--further proof that Sweden, indie rock, and Wild Nothing's penchant for Kate Bush covers, all usher in the populace of gayness. I chatted with him about food or vans for about 15 minutes before needing an escape plan. His tour manager, who sat in a corner
typing on his computer was like, "Aren't you going to ask him about music?" and I shuddered at the thought.

The Nationals played. The main guy wore a vest.

The shows that were worth traveling around the globe for was WuTang, Iggy, and Pavement. Scandinavian thugs are endearing in a Ghost World kind of way, and hearing Raekwon saying "I don't know about you, but I'm motherfucking happy to be here in Sweden," warmed the heart. Those silly Swedes were throwing signs before he could finish his sentence.

Iggy drooled all over himself, but I don't think he knew it. Then he told the security dads to go fuck themselves, and let a bunch of the crowd up on stage to dance self-consciously with him. It was super cute.

And Pavement--Pavement killed it. Stephen Malkmus got on stage and bragged about other bands, like "We saw Ah Ha in Japan. There were only, like, 100 people there… Have you heard of a band called Made In Sweden? They're alright," and then they just… played SO fucking good. Every member of the band was having too much fun to not play for another ten years, but if they do call it quits again, it was well worth going to the gayest country in the world to hear them.

Stumbling drunkenly around the city for three days to listen to Gothenberg's "thriving music scene" that is America is enough to figure out that you could do everything you did in Sweden somewhere else but not enjoy it. Everyone there is polite and the music makes you want to frolic in a field, but there isn't anything really going on. It's kinda dull. But pretty. Everyone is pretty. It grosses you out after a while.

Oh yeah! I saw Panda Bear. He reminded me of Celine Dion. That sums up the gayness.

WORDS: HALLIE NEWTON
PHOTOS: MIKE MOOSE