I got to East River State Park just as Jemina Pearl took the stage yesterday. It was a beautiful sunny afternoon and the wait to get in wasn't too bad. As I walked towards the music, I was happy to see dodge ball and 3x3 basketball had survived the relocation from McCarren to this oddly placed park squeezed between condo construction and factories. The stage looked great positioned in front of the Manhattan skyline. I decided to grab a beer and check out the first band, but had to get in line for a wristband that would grant me access to the 21 & over zone. That's right, folks. A drinking corral. What is this, All Points West?

For the last three years, McCarren Park's pool parties have had the best free shows in the city. Good bands. Brooklyn Lager kegs and food stands set up outside and inside the empty pool. If it was hot, you could take a turn on the gigantic inflatable slip n' slide. This year, though, things aren't quite the same. Your options for H20 refreshment are getting into one of three kiddie pools (which didn't last more than two hours), pouring a warm bottle of $2 water on your head or jumping in the East River. I'm glad it wasn't too hot yesterday because after dodge ball I probably would have needed option #3. To drink, you have to stay in the drinking corral, which is too far left and too far away from the stage. There's only one food vendor and the line was very long. Hopefully, that will change as the summer continues.

As for the music, the lineup was great. Jemina Pearl of Be Your Own Pet started off the day with her new band. She seemed uneasy and talked about being uneasy between every song, but it wasn't a totally bad set. My dodge ball team won a few games so I missed most of Ponytail, which I'm still upset about. From a distance, I could see Molly flailing around on stage and the chirping/whistling/whining thing she does traveled all the way to the port-o-potties at the back of the park.

Fucked Up was great. The Canadians proved hardcore bands nowadays don't all have to sound the same (anyone else go to Punk Island?). Hefty front man Pink Eyes was fun to watch jump in the crowd, smash cans on his head and slowly jiggle out of his pants that were destined to fall at some point during the set. I think they are better suited for smaller, more intimate venues, but they didn't let the big stage get in the way of having a good time. "Crooked Head" off last year's The Chemistry of Common Life was one of the highlights of the day. The audience chanted with Pink Eyes while the three guitarists went nuts.

"This is not a photograph. This is Mission of Burma," yelled Brooklyn Borough President Marty Markowitz to introduce the Boston post-punk legends. Burma started its set with a decent new song, "1, 2, 3, Partyy!" but things didn't get rolling until the great trio of "2wice," "Red" and "That's How I Escape My Certain Fate." There were three more new songs from The Sound The Speed The Light, out Oct. 6, but the best songs were definitely the well toured ones. The only new song that stood out was the one Peter Prescott, the maniac drummer, sings.

The sing-along punk classic "That's When I Reach for My Revolver" got the crowd moving and even formed a pit to rival the one during Fucked Up. Following that was my favorite song of the day, "Einstein's Day." By the end of the song's slow build, Clint Conley's bass was flying away from him. The sun blinded most of us from seeing Roger Miller attack his guitar, but it only added to the mystery of odd sounds he gets out of his guitar. I'm sure Bob Weston's tape looping has something to do with it, but I still think Miller is one of the most, if not the most, unique guitarists in rock music playing today.

Burma came out for a short one song encore, the best version of "This is Not a Photograph" I've ever heard. Concert organizers Jelly couldn't have picked a better band to kick-off the summer. They may be in their 50s, but the rock world's still playing catch up. Everyone seemed to enjoy Burma: Fucked Up fans in Black Flag shirts, girls with neon glasses, sweaty dodge ball players, sunbathers, teens, 20somethings, 30somethings and even the pasty-white music critics.

Despite my hatred of the drinking corral, I give a lot of credit to Jelly for making this happen after getting booted from McCarren. The grass is definitely an upgrade from the broken tiles of a broken-down swimming pool. The view is amazing. I even saw a plane land in the water right before Burma got on. It should be a great summer of free Sunday shows.

Get the full lineup here.

[Thanks Jonny Leather for the photo.]