Sunday, July 30
1 p.m.: You know what isn't cool? Imitating a religious group in the name of viral marketing. Someone should tell that to the group of un-monk-like "Buddhist monks" handing out fortune cookies with a promise of a chance to "win $10,000" outside the fest. Which one of the four noble truths covers seeking material gain through contests? (KP)
2 p.m.: Swedish singer-songwriter Jens Lekman shows up with an all-female band clad entirely in white. But of course. He's funny and writes memorable songs, although not always at the same time. Mostly, though, he gets the balance right, and the rough edges are part of what makes Lenkman Lenkman. Doubters: Go download "Black Cab." (KP)
2:35 p.m.: Again, I fret about intricate music's place in a huge, hot field, but this time without cause: The National is blazingly brilliant (and probably blazingly blazing)—even better than at its last Chicago club show, at Double Door. Its quick set sticks mainly to songs from last year's unstoppable Alligator. Singer Matt Berninger, caught (umm, stalked?) walking around the grounds, later tells us that they've been working on a new album that very week, potentially due early next year. Smile a little smile. Best band of the fest, in my book. (JM)
3:20: The National plays "Mr. November" as its next-to-last song with a searing intensity that shrinks the outdoor show into something more confined, even claustrophobic. The crowd cheers each time Berninger howls, "I won't fuck us over, I'm Mr. November." (KR)
3:36 p.m.: I will admit having no feeling for Liars whatsoever. Noisy and obnoxious, but they don't even bother me. (JM)
…But they do bother me. It's weird: Every once in a while, the drummer finds a groove that's really cool. Then the band starts sounding like Liars again. (KP)
…and because of that, it's inessential on all counts. I've got no time for pretentious art-rock when there's no payoff for enduring its airs. (KR)
3:40 p.m.: Cage is the most indie-rock-looking rapper ever. (KR)
4:47 p.m.: Aesop Rock and Mr. Lif provide a refreshing dose of hip-hop on the main stage. A break in the middle of the set for the DJ to show off his skills kills the momentum, though. (KR)
5:50 p.m.: Mission Of Burma sends the crowd (particularly me) into a frenzy by playing "That's When I Reach For My Revolver," the Mission Of Burma song (okay, along with "Academy Fight Song," which also got played). The reunited forefathers of post-punk play an electrifying set for what's conceivably the biggest crowd of their career. (KR)
6:10 p.m.: You know what's great after blistering post-punk? Freak-folk jam-band music. Wait, no it isn't. But Devendra Banhart plays with his compatriots, and there's more hair on stage now than in all the other bands combined. (KR)
7:04 p.m.: Banhart closes out his set—shirtless, of course—with a goofy song about needing help to do even the simplest tasks. I watch, thinking, "If this were Phish, I'd hate it. So why am I cutting him slack?" As much as I didn't mind—even liked—Cripple Crow, I'm completely turned off by Banhart live. Maybe it's the incessant blaring of my inner punk's hippie alarm. (KR)
7:10 p.m.: Maybe Yo La Tengo could have thrown the crowd a bone by playing one, just one, song not from an album that hasn't come out yet. Maybe. Instead, it's an hour from the wonderfully titled forthcoming release I Am Not Afraid Of You And I Will Beat Your Ass. But I didn't hear anyone complaining. (KP)
…oh, I'll complain: The new album's seemingly endless first track, "Pass The Hatchet, I Think I'm Goodkind" is vintage Yo La Tengo—how bored must James McNew get playing the exact same bass notes for 10 minutes?—but the goofy "Mr. Tough," with Ira Kaplan's irritating falsetto, makes me want to stab myself in the ears. A little "Tom Courtenay" would have helped matters. (KR)
8:10 p.m.: Spoon has been down and out over the years, but not lately. Since the 2001 album Girls Can Tell, the band has just gotten sharper, and by the evidence here, the live act has caught up with the recordings. The only thing going against Spoon is that it's playing before a legend known as Os Mutantes. (KP)
9:10 p.m.: But here's the problem with Os Mutantes. Bad timing. Actually, that isn't their problem. It's mine. The cumulative effect of two days in ungodly heat, ruining clothes with sweat, and drinking double-digit numbers of bottles of Water Plus have had a profound effect on my hygiene. Duty urges me to stay. My sense of personal decency compels me to leave. Sorry, Os Mutantes. (I'll turn in my music critic's license at the end of the week.) (KP)
SUMMARIES: Mostly excellent vibe, damn inspired choices, and an exhausting blast. 8.5. (JM)
Pretty great. It had a corporate-lite, handmade feel. The lineup, if not unimpeachable, was consistently interesting. The music-and-community-first spirit seemed to infect the crowd. Everyone was friendly and polite in spite of the vile weather and crowded quarters. Make it annual, please. 8.9 (KP)
Somewhere between good and great. A little more hip-hop on the main stage would be nice, as would some more aggressive rock. Not that The National and Mission Of Burma weren't fantastic; the festival could just stand a little more of bands like them. 7.6 (KR)
OVERALL SCORE: 8.3
« Previous | 1 | 2
- Comments