Night Moves Festival
Autumn. There’s nothing like a crisp, fall day to really clear the sinuses, enjoy a hot mug of tea, and — yes — attend an outdoor indie music festival. On the first weekend of this month, I did all of those things, minus the tea (I don’t own a kettle) and the sinus-clearing (I don’t own a kettle). But there really was no need. I can buy my tea already brewed, and my sinuses remain clean as a whistle, because — and here I am getting to the point — seasonal allergies don’t exist in Florida (at least for me they don’t. Are you really going to tell me you’re allergic to palm trees and pink flamingos? Right, sure).
I am of course speaking of Pensacola’s first and finest Night Moves Festival, which took off without a hitch just south of downtown at a beautiful, waterfront venue. It was so close, I got there by bicycle in less than 15 minutes.
It’s no surprise that the weekend’s festivities were a result of careful and dutiful planning from the very same team that brought you The Handlebar — the only local venue that matters. As such, the weekend featured an impressive lineup of 12 notable bands — some local, some hot on the trail of the latest indie craze, some legends who I never guessed would be performing less than 2 miles from my living room, where I regularly sit to enjoy their music, all to the delight of my upstairs neighbor. But Andrew has no part in this tale — just the hundreds of attendees lucky enough to experience this major milestone in the preservation of Pensacola’s stunningly vibrant music scene.
The night prior to the great big day, The Handlebar hosted a special pre-show for all VIP ticket holders (those who purchased the top tier ticket package) and anyone lucky enough to get their hands on a ticket at the door. The headliner was none other than Built to Spill. I had never seen them live, so I wasn’t sure what to expect, and nearly everyone I spoke to made note of this rare opportunity to see the indie legends in such a small setting. But I was fortunate to sit down with Doug Martsch for an interview before the show, and he said, “We play shows this size all the time — this is not unusual for us in smaller places. Even in big cities sometimes we play a place that’s this small a couple nights or something. We play anything, we don’t give a fuck.” So take that, well-meaning concertgoers who were just happy to be there.
Before our interview, I sat through Built to Spill’s soundcheck. Doug’s original intention for the band was to feature a shifting lineup from album to album, and to tour with a revolving variety of instrumentation. He got away from that ambition from about 1997 to the early 2010s, presumably for the sake of convenience and cohesion, but has returned to it in recent years. Much like his music, Doug’s reasoning for this homecoming of initial ideals was layered and timeless: “One thing is so the band can sound different from record to record and there’s nothing holding us down to anything. And also the experience is fun playing with some different people — having different people in your life and getting to know them. It’s nice to expand connections.” Doug’s latest additions to the roster have been Melanie Radford on bass and Teresa Esquerra on drums; both have toured with Doug as Built to Spill since 2019, but the trio has such chemistry, anyone would guess they’ve been a band for much longer.
If I could choose only one word to describe their soundcheck (probably for the best — I am not known for my brevity), it would be methodical. There was almost no speaking as they flowed from one musical thought into the next. But this level of cohesion is to be expected from such a seasoned touring act — Built to Spill has been touring constantly in its current form since the end of the pandemic.
(From left to right) Teresa Esquerra, drums; Doug Martsch, guitar/vocals; Melanie Radford, bass. Photo courtesy of Sub Pop Records.
Following our interview, the band sped off in their van to an undisclosed location, while the first few ticket-holders shuffled into the venue’s courtyard so they could wait another four hours for Built To Spill to go on. I wouldn’t have done that, but who am I to judge? Actually, this writeup is a bit of a criticism in itself so I suppose I am one to judge — they should have shown up at least two hours later so they wouldn’t have had to wait so long. Right?
Anyway, Built to Spill put on a fantastic performance, barreling through a masterfully crafted setlist of hits and celebrated b-sides. Even an encore. Many parents showed up with their kids, or perhaps the kids dragged the parents. I couldn’t quite figure that bit out, and that is the very appeal of Built to Spill: relevant as ever, and fun for the whole family. The evening was the perfect precursor to what was sure to be a long day of great music.
I rolled in (literally — I was on my bike, remember?) around 3:30, just in time to catch Pool Kids’ set. Theirs was of special interest to me, as I interviewed singer/songwriter Christine Goodwyne in September of 2022 when their self-titled album came out. I grabbed what I thought was my press pass at the box office and went straight to the photo pit to capture some dreadfully mediocre visual supplements for this very article. The security lady let me through the gates just as Pool Kids launched into their first song of the afternoon. I dug my camera out of my fanny pack and as I poised to capture my first photo, a giant, burly hand grabbed a chunk of my sleeve and pulled me away from the stage.
It was Security Sue herself, who leaned in much too close for my comfort and bellowed through her coffee-stained cavities, “WHO ARE YOU WITH.” The smell of cigarettes and sweat assaulted my nasal cavity. “What do you mean?” I responded. She let go of my coveralls and took a deep breath, “You need a pass to be back here.” I’m sure my confusion was plainly visible — wasn’t she the one who let me into the pit in the first place? “Is this not a pass?” I asked, showing her the orange paper band around my wrist. In her defense, my confusion was not helping my case — I did look very suspicious.
Long story short, I had to return to the box office for my pass, Sue let me back in without eye contact, and refused to look directly at me again for the rest of the night. You’re probably thinking that I’ve read too far into the situation. To that I would say, you are completely correct. She was just doing her job, albeit rather gruffly, but the attitude is part of the job I suppose.
With that brief but frightening hiccup out of the way, I was allowed to enjoy Pool Kids, free from the clutches of the evil barrier witch (sorry, I’ll stop). I’ve always believed that Pool Kids has such style — they really look like a band, both on and off the stage. And they did not disappoint that day. But of course, this piece is about the music, not superficial things like looks. Or maybe it isn’t. I did just spend a massive paragraph criticizing a security guard for an error I made. Regardless, Pool Kids sounded great.
I had a brief chat with Christine after their set, and mentioned that although I’d seen them once before, it was still a bit of a new experience to see them play an outdoor venue. Before I could continue, she interjected, “I hate it — I mean this was fun, this was great,” she laughed, “but just the sun beating down on you, it was so physically uncomfortable. And feeling so far away from the crowd and the people and everyone being all spread out. I think I’ll get used to it as the band grows and plays more of these.”
Of course, with the way all amphitheaters are set up, the sun is always in the performers’ eyes. At least the ones that aren’t designed by four-year-olds, the quantity of which would actually surprise you. Just one, probably, in Peter Pan’s Neverland, where, realistically everyone should have the mental and emotional maturity of fully grown adults, despite having the physical traits of small children. So actually, even then it would be unacceptable for there to exist an amphitheater that faces East. Plus, Peter Pan was a blatantly racist movie, so none of its contents should be taken as fact anyway.
Pool Kids.(From left to right) Andy Anaya, guitar; Caden Clinton, drums; Nicolette Alvarez, bass; Christine Goodwyne, vocals/guitar.
Let’s move on, shall we? Hovvdy was up next. Hailing from Austin Texas, Hovvdy has been ever-present in the indie scene of the times for close to ten years now. But they’re just not my cup of tea, which is why I sat out Hovvdy’s set to interview Pool Kids as they loaded gear into their gold Nissan Murano. The only thing I remember of Hovvdy was that they took long breaks in between each song, using the venue’s proximity to the local baseball stadium as an excuse to talk about baseball, which was appropriately met with absolute silence from the crowd.
After a riveting performance from Austin’s finest, Lunar Vacation took the stage. I did not have much hope for them to rightly rile up the crowd, but only because Lunar Vacation tends to embody a softer sound. Nevertheless, they seemed to be a crowd favorite. I interviewed Gep and Maggie about a week prior to the festival, and they were genuinely very excited to play Pensacola, as they’d been here opening for Colony House in September, leaving with a short list of places to check out upon their return. In fact, I ran into them the night before while they were on their way to one of those very places, but I was headed to The Handlebar, so we exchanged quick observations about the weather and went our separate ways. After Lunar Vacation’s set, Gep was on the lawn with a line of fans waiting to have a word with them, and that should be proof enough of Lunar Vacation’s universal appeal.
Lunar Vacation. (From left to right) Matteo DeLurgio, keyboards; Connor Dowd, drums; Maggie Geeslin, guitar; Gep Repasky, vocals/guitar; Ben Wulkan, bass.
Next was Microwave, who sounded far too good to be overlooked here. I’ve had “Circling The Drain” saved on Spotify since it came out, and was ecstatic to hear them play it right in front of me to close their set.
There was plenty of time after Microwave for me to wait 40 minutes for a burrito at a food truck, eat it like I was competing for first place, and run to the stage to see the fabled Soccer Mommy, who are the very embodiment of no-nonsense. There was a healthy balance of crowd interaction and music, and their performance was exactly what you would expect from a band of their caliber: methodical but not robotic, effortless but not careless, and their content was accessible without being patronizing.
The same can be said of Built to Spill. Their set was in no way a repeat of the night before, but was rather a sequel of sorts that beautifully finished what they started, tying it up with a bow and perhaps a homemade greeting card — the best kind of gift. There was no shortage of hands to help them on and off the stage, but Doug set up all his gear himself, largely a practical measure, I’m sure, but still a charming foil to Manchester Orchestra’s payroll, who went to work like a Nascar pit crew at the conclusion of Built to Spill’s finale.
Built to Spill. (From left to right) Melanie Radford, bass; Doug Martsch, guitar/vocals; Teresa Esquerra, drums.
Okay, maybe not quite the speed of a professional pit crew — maybe like a very well-performing Jiffy Lube location. Still, it was an impressive spectacle, and they even brought their own banner. I’m not the biggest fan of Manchester Orchestra, but man, those guys can play. Everyone on stage had the energy of a frontman, coupling exciting visuals with loud, loud music — and who could hate that? Probably a lot of people, but none of them were there that night, so the point stands.
Manchester Orchestra. (From left to right) Andy Hull, vocals/guitar; Jonathan Corley, bass.
I remember when I first saw the flyer for the Night Moves Festival. I probably did a triple take. Maybe even a quadruple take, but that would be far too silly to be believable. My point is, I have only lived in Pensacola for eight months, but even I know how rare it is to have a such a grand lineup come to town for any occasion. Much of the credit for its inception goes to Robert Goodspeed, manager of The Handlebar, and coordinator of the festival. This article from WUWF published last year provides all the background you should need to get caught up. But I’m not a teacher — I am not in the business of doling out homework. You don’t need to read it, but it could ensure that you don’t go to Jupiter to get more stupider — at least, not anytime soon.
I talked to Robert in passing about this massive undertaking — a local musician himself, he was over the moon to be seeing the fruits of his labor unfold before his eyes. In an Instagram post immediately following the festival, he wrote, “In 2019 we started our nonprofit, DIY, 70 cap, community space to give up and coming artists a place to play. Never once did we think that it could turn into what transpired on Saturday. There are countless people to thank for their involvement in this project but for now we wanted to send a sincere shoutout to Pensacola and everyone who traveled here that took a chance on this venture with us. What a great moment for our little town. Til next year…”
In fact, even before the day of the festival, he was receiving emails from PR firms and booking agents with hopefuls for next year’s festival. This day was a sensation in absolutely every sense of the word, and I am incredibly grateful to have been present to witness such a pivotal time in the music history of this strangely colorful place.
SUPPORT Night Moves and The Handlebar by following, and if you’re local, attending a show!