Though I’ve wanted to go forever, when I finally went to Basilica Soundscape it was on the spur of the moment, with nothing but a backpack and a return train ticket. Actually, it wasn’t until I arrived that I realized I’d completely forgotten to find myself housing, and crossed my fingers that someone would take me in, anyway.
Luckily, Hudson is a very small, picturesque town that seems to breed community and helpfulness — especially during Basilica — and I almost immediately ran into AJ and John of the post-rock band Sannhet, who took me in, and let me crash at their house for the weekend. After getting settled, we all trekked to the venue in the late afternoon as I open-mouth gaped at pink and blue clouds and countryside the whole way.
For a kid from LA with a thing for trains, I can’t think of a more perfect name for a rail adjacent venue than Basilica. Stunning visuals surrounding the artists and filled up most of the space in the venue. Most striking of all were the hanging sculptures created as if Donald Judd imagined paper airplanes in aluminum.
I grew up in Los Angeles during the rise of commercialized festival culture, and it certainly had never occurred to me to describe a festival as intimate — but that’s exactly what Basilica Soundscape was. The Main Hall never felt overwhelmingly huge — even with its high ceilings — and artists in the North Hall gave performances sometimes inches away from a reverent and attentive audience. The only complaint any of us could even come up with is that it was hotter in Hudson than we expected. Still, it was a far cry from the street-style centric vibe of the west coast festivals I’m used to, with most people just dressed for balmy weather.
I grew envious of that, while boiling in my standard uniform of black jeans and a t-shirt, spending the two days eyeing everyone who had the sense to just dress comfortably — and I promised myself I’d relax a little more next time. Hudson brings out that urge in you, the desire to live comfortably and freely, and the atmosphere at Basilica does too. All these bands are so wildly singular, and they’re all playing at a festival that celebrates them for that, instead of relegating them to basements or bottom of the flyer font.
For instance, the first night favored the fest’s more experimental and avant garde acts from all over the world. Naama Tsabar gave a furious and noisy performance, most notably her performance of “Untitled (Double Face)” from her Guitar Series. Both musicians spun around facing one another in the most intenese performance I’d ever seen live. Right afterwards, Moor Mother ripped right into a politically charged electronic noise set, gutturally crying “REVOLUTION EVERYWHERE” while summoning a black clad audience towards the stage.
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Eileen Myles followed Moor Mother with a poetry reading accompanied by nearby train whistles, that provided accidental space for dramatic pauses and emphasis. Myles giving voice to her work in a Northeastern accent was exotic for an LA kid like me. It reminded me of the the first time I heard Patti Smith speak her words out loud, and it was both a comforting and captivating experience.
One of the best things about the festival lineup is that sets went back and forth between the Main and North halls with no gaps in between. Basilica Hudson made every usable space a stage, even putting Tunisian artist Emel Mathlouthi in The Rafters, a small window looking out twenty feet over the Main Hall, where she performed her Tunisian protest songs for a crowd sitting cross-legged beneath her. From her perch singing songs through a window, her haunting overlaid vocals filled the entire space with weight and urgency, pressing the sound into our skin.
On day two, Vivien Goldman started out a vibrant dub set in the Main Hall, but the night really kicked off with a full wall of metal noise from the next room. Yellow Eyes was first band of the night to really assail my eardrums and they brought their own candelabras to prove they meant business.
But even after over a decade in this industry, the most exciting thing for me is still discovering a band live, and this weekend I stumbled into a noisy industrial set by avant garde two-piece Yvette. Their performance was intense, frenetic, and heavy and most importantly, they really meant it. Both guys ended each song completely out of breath but still made the time to thank an electrified crowd at the end of their set.
Later, Priests held a raucous punk dance party in the main hall with help from Carson Cox of Merchandise, who I almost didn’t recognize without sunglasses on, and protomartyr played a perfect set for a packed North Hall and warmed everyone up for the main event, John Maus.
I missed John Maus in LA, despite having not one but two dates at the recently relocated Zebulon in Frogtown. Despite my despair at this back then, somehow, I didn’t even realize he was on the bill for Basilica Soundscape until I arrived on Friday afternoon. It was a joyful moment.
John Maus came right out the gate furious and screaming with raw energy that I could feel, viscerally, even all the way in the back of the room. He seemed to give everything to the crowd and by the end he was dripping with sweat from head to toe, making the front few rows a bit of a splash zone. It was the only set that made me smile wildly from ear to ear while bouncing up and down the whole time.
I got up on Sunday morning earlier than I would have liked, but I couldn’t miss the chance to grab one last adorable brunch in the city of Hudson itself. Eventually, I joined the stream of black clad city kids still skulking through this bright little town, and got the train back into the city.
