Snake On The Lake Fest at Memorial Union Terrace
The annual Snake On The Lake Fest is the beginning of the end for shows on the Memorial Union Terrace each fall, and the scene upon the A.V. Club's arrival perfectly summed up why the place is so damn lovable and weird. Philadelphia band Free Energy (we'd missed Madison's The Nod and Chicago's Yourself And The Air, unfortunately) pumped through silly-fun tunes—trying to summon the good-natured muscle of Thin Lizzy and shiny hooks of Cheap Trick, perhaps—as thousands of people milled about, drank, and chattered in front of them, and sailboats lazily congregated on the lake behind them. Only a few cautious nodders standing 20 feet back from the stage seemed to be latching onto Free Energy's youthful pulse and occasional two-guitar harmonies, as the band hammed it up without getting too kitschy about it. Still, it's the kind of music that needs a party going on around it, and the crowd was sitting on its invitations.
More folks came to the front for Milwaukee's Maritime, whose annual stops at the Union's venues seem to be kind of a ritual for the kids who book music there. Though a distorted bass line got the set off to a punchy start on "For Science Fiction," from 2007's Heresy And The Hotel Choir, singer Davey von Bohlen and band mostly let their wistful guitar-pop songs drift agreeably across the Terrace. Tunes like "German Engineering" came through about as pleasantly low-key as possible, yet the band still found the punch hidden inside its songs—Dan Hinz's clean-toned guitar hooks pinned some extra urgency onto the chorus of "Hours That You Keep," and Dan Didier's syncopated drum patterns kept the kids nodding along through "Parade Of Punk Rock T-Shirts" and a surprisingly lusty version of the delicately titled "With Holes For Thumb-Sized Birds."
Next, Chicago rapper Hollywood Holt pounced on the audience with his sweaty blend of swaggering street rap and kitschy booty jams (including one number about “jukin’ hoes”). It didn’t take long for the crowd to stumble into house-party mode, as Holt (backed up by his producer, Mano) made a sweaty mess of himself via crowd-surfing and flailing about with the ferocity of David Banner. Mano’s slickly produced beats overshadowed the ridiculous lyrics (there was a tune about throwing kids onto mopeds), and Holt’s monster performance made him visible to everyone in attendance. Unfortunately, those who wanted to watch Philadelphia’s RJD2 from a distance weren’t so lucky. For anyone who hasn’t seen a show at the Terrace, the stage is set ridiculously low, and when a thousand-plus people pack their way in, the people in the back can’t see a fucking thing without being the awkward meat in a smelly-drunk-people sandwich.
Some kid from WSUM stood on stage and babbled away to the crowd as RJD2 (also known as RJ Krohn) readied his massive set-up of four turntables, a sampler, and a laptop (running a program that allowed him to use his turntables to adjust the playback of digital music from his computer). With a pleasantly surprised look on his face, RJD2 got fans roaring with dynamic set-opener “1976” from 2004’s Since We Last Spoke. “Ghostwriter” proved to be his most popular as fans screamed wildly when its signature descending guitar line kicked in.
“I think I’m gonna play some party jams for a while,” the DJ declared before mashing a handful of tunes by the likes of Bob Marley, Nu Shooz, and TV On The Radio together. While The A.V. Club may usually respect the hell out of RJD2 as a producer and DJ, we have to admit that this segment was surprisingly sloppy. Hearing the clusterfuck transition from Bobby Brown’s “My Prerogative” into TVOTR’s “Hours” really made us wish that the Union could’ve landed Blueprint—RJ’s partner in the excellent Soul Position—on stage with him. The crowd, however, couldn’t care less, and it was hard to see the Papa Smurf-grin on RJD2’s bobbing head through the flurry of waving arms. The set pulled largely from Since We Last Spoke, 2002’s Deadringer, and 2007’s The Third Hand.
After attempting to finish his set, RJ thanked the crowd and quickly began unplugging the giant pile of cables on his table. Much to his surprise the crowd screamed for an encore, so he plugged everything back in and ended with the bouncy rhythm of “Good Times Roll Pt. 2.” Because The A.V. Club is often spoiled by the seamless sets of locals DJs like Pain 1 and Mike Carlson, we may have trouble swallowing the idea of paying an internationally admired producer loads of cash for a sub-par DJ set. But hey, it still offered a fun, if microscopic, peek into the record collection of a genius.
