Texture Freq at somewhere along the Mississippi River in Minneapolis, Minn. | photo by Lorien Lamarr

Lorien Lamarr Photo Column—Texture Freq

Jun 08, 2024

My friends said, “Come to Minneapolis for May Day. We do it up!” So this May I found myself on the banks of the Mississippi watching a few bands, set against a backdrop of flowing water and lush greenery arranged around a makeshift stage powered by a generator. It felt at the same time intimate but exposed, secret but obvious, private but public.

This particular show was the result of extensive community organizing, bringing together punks, explorers, and others celebrating May Day. This was just one show of a full week of events, all self-directed and self-organized. People of all ages, many with their dogs in tow, mingled and danced; their faces illuminated by either headlamps or the soft glow of campfires.

Remarkably, the entire event unfolded without interruption. No police were called, and the usual constraints of urban life seemed miles away, although they absolutely were not. There was a sense of freedom and mutual respect that permeated the gathering, allowing everyone to fully immerse themselves in the moment. It was a beautiful thing that I hope will become less rare and less extraordinary in my life.

Oh, and the band is called Texture Freq and they were fucking sick. I got pretty muddy avoiding getting body slammed by a delightfully feral crowd. I love hardcore but at my size it’s likely I’ll become a projectile like a thrown beer can if I’m not careful.

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