Too Much Rock has covered a lot of legacy bands recently. While the pack hasn't been monolithic – some remain relevant to modern tastes, while others are valued purely for the trails they blazed forty years ago – writing about each show has required lengthy biographies to place these artists in context. In some cases, Too Much Rock has had to lobby for a performer's relevance, or at least its noteworthiness. But on this night, it was the organizers of Outer Reaches that took on that burden, choosing to include two long-established acts as part of its annual "out there" festival.

RecordBar was quiet at 7pm. Rows of chairs stretched from the stage to the back of the room where the usual tables began. The mezzanine was closed. I found a seat in the empty second row. To me, second row says engaged but not apple-polisher. That seemed about right. Light pop with tinges of electronica and Tropicalia played softly over the PA. A sort of hip hold music. The stage contained twenty feet of banquet tables littered with laptops, mixers, DAWs, pedals, and gadgets of all indescribable manner. The back of the room was a bazaar of goods from the opener. There were dozens of CDs to choose from and nearly as many books. I went looking for a particular shirt that they didn't have. After grabbing a cup of water, I sat down and waited as the room slowly filled up. Generation X was well represented – particularly those at the top end of the age range. Millennials made up the rest of the room. Soon two white men with grey hair and glasses wearing button up shirts walked onto the stage, waved hello, introduced themselves as "what is left of Negativland," and sat down behind the tables.

Okay some of that dreaded background is now necessary. Actually, a lot of background is necessary which is why the band is touring with a feature-length documentary about the project called Stand by For Failure. While the film usually precedes their shows, the festival format pushed it to the following day. Here is only slightly less context than that entertaining film provides: weird guys met in the '70s, built electronic gadgets and misused existing ones, created art, sampled and misappropriated media as they saw fit, broadcast it on the radio, recorded and released it themselves, outsmarted everyone, got others to release it, got sued, picked up new like-minded members, had members who passed away, and only occasionally toured. That's 50 years of Negativland in 50 words.

The men on stage were Mark Hosler and John Leidecker (aka Wobbly), but they assured the crowd that all members of Negativland – both living and dead – would be represented in the performance. This tour centers around a piece called "We Can Really Feel Like We're Here," which in turn draws from the album The World Will Decide. The ever-changing work was created in collaboration with visual artist SUE-C (Sue Slagle). Although she doesn't tour with the project, a laptop allowed her to provide analog and digital projections in the room as she interacted with the duo in real time. The collective's piece dealt with the real-world consequences of the gamification of society. It started by innocently poking fun at chat rooms and avatars and the over connected, but soon focused on mesmerizing phone apps and their connection to control and consumption. As the piece progressed, the effects of this technology were shown to be more dire, eventually culminating in the chaos of the January 6th attacks on the US capitol. The narrative was created through bits of dialog sampled from countless sources, inventing conversations between parties that never actually met. Perhaps "conversations" is over-selling it – these were more like soundbites lobbed back and forth, repeatedly asking the same questions and connecting thoughts back to the theme. Glitchy noise was the third party in the conversation. Sometimes it served as the disapproving audience. Sometimes as an omniscient hand steering the conversation. The duo layered music beneath the dialogue, moving from smooth downtempo to jarring electroclash. The music was never the focus (though heads did occasionally bob), but instead served as a delivery mechanism for the artists' message.

After "We Can Really Feel…" the duo performed a version of "Escape from Noise" from its 1987 album of the same name. Hosler provided live vocals. Then, at the very end, the laptop that had been the interface to SUE-C was turned around and a live feed was established with David Wills (aka "The Weatherman"). Wills, too frail to tour (and never much interested in it anyway), appeared remotely. Trying to explain his combination of mundane and inane as avant-garde performance art would take volumes and still fall short, but know that during this performance he talked about the transistor radios in his kitchen, tuned them to static, and let them feedback on one another. As he moved across his kitchen with his camera, he dryly remarked, "I am a very old man, if I fall, the show is over.” For longtime fans, seeing and hearing The Weatherman was a therapeutic visit with an old friend – an eccentric one still childishly excited to be making art from found noises that he thinks are neat. What a wonderful thing!

After Negativland's ninety-minute set, the house lights came up, and the chairs were stacked neatly at the side of the club. Outer Reaches Fest was about to introduce a seismic shift, swapping avant-garde cut-up artists and culture jammers for post-punk pioneers.

Pylon grew out of the fertile Athens, Georgia music scene in 1979. On the timeline they sit between the B-52s and REM. They carry some similarities to both, although Pylon were more angular than either of those contemporaries. Tension often created dynamic songs, but it also ensured the quartet wouldn't last long. By 1983 it was over. Sure, there were reunions here and there, but they never stuck. In 2009 guitarist Randy Bewley died, and the band was declared done. However, five years later vocalist Vanessa Briscoe Hay decided she wanted to play Pylon songs again, and with the help of an all-new line-up, Pylon Reenactment Society was born. A decade later the group not only performs classic Pylon songs live, but also releases new material that continues to confusingly blend post-punk and jangle. And that's the ten-cent tour.

Joining Briscoe Hay were guitarist Jason NeSmith, bassist Kay Stanton, and drummer Gregory Sanders. They're nearly a generation removed from Hay, but veterans of the local Athens scene all the same. As dictated by the Pylon playbook, the foursome delivered a set rife with funky bass and disco-punk beats. NeSmith was a flashy guitarist who dialed in specific tones for each song. That tone was important as the guitar and vocals were immersed in a constant conversation throughout the hour-long set. Sometimes it got heated. Briscoe Hay's untrained voice hasn't changed much. Her voice was clean, simple, occasionally spoken, and often capped with haunting echo. She offered long introductions between songs and sat during instrumental breaks. She's more personable than histrionic. Those around her, however, had big personalities. NeSmith was hammy, Stanton always dancing and engaged, and Sanders and his sunglasses met both of their energies working his snare and hi-hat. Most of the dancing came from the audience, particularly Sweeping Promises’ Lira Mondal, who bounced throughout the entire set. The night carried many highlights including Pylon classics like "Danger" and "Crazy" (the latter drawing the biggest cheers of the night), new gems like "Educate Me" and "Fix It" (the latter allowing Stanton to do her best Kate Pierson impression), and the 1979 Pylon-written but unrecorded gem "3x3." "Heaven (In Your Eyes)" has a similar origin story. NeSmith has a great solo in it, and the song could have served as the closer with its immense ending, but instead "Feast on my Heart" took that honor. Briscoe Hay couldn't muster the Bon Scott-esque growl that the Pylon song originally featured, but she was still able to push it effectively to balance NeSmith's jabs all while the rhythm section raced toward the hectic finale.

This (unwieldly long) recap began by noting there are some legacy acts that are more useful for their history than their present. While I believe that is enough, both Negativland and Pylon Reenactment Society aren't ready to take their bows just yet. It's true that both acts have enjoyed higher profiles in the past, but each is still creating new left-of-center art that simultaneously aligns with their long-settled identities while still plotting courses into the future. Neither project needs Too Much Rock or Outer Reaches Fest to prove their relevance; they’re doing that just fine on their own.