I started off day two cursing my apparent inability to read a schedule as I waited 45 minutes for the Ting Tings (Web site, Myspace) to start their set. As I sat looking around and longing for the shade of the press tent, Matthew Mcconaughey’s immortal line from “Dazed and Confused” rang through my head: “That’s what I like about high school girls. I keep getting older; they stay the same age.” I managed to avoid any arrest-worthy thoughts as the crowd stood up and the band took the stage.
The British indie pop duo offered a high-energy set that wound through straightforward rock, garage, punk, and dance-rock in their hour-long set. They played rock and roll party music with an attitude and style that compelled every body under the legal drinking age to pogo like their lives depended on it. Singer/guitarist Katie White rocked out like a slightly more playful Emily Haines dancing her way around the stage with her fervent hand claps and foot stomps echoed by the early afternoon crowd, and though Jules de Martino’s drums mixed quite well with White’s guitar, White was clearly the star of the show.
The only shortcoming this pair finds live is the real need for a touring band. There was a distinct reliance on pre-recorded guitar riffs (and a few drum beats) that could easily have been pulled off live with but one extra member, and live music always better the closer the audience can get to the source.
As the Ting Tings’ last notes faded, a quick series of text messages had me finally meeting up with Leah M and her friends. After quick introductions, a picture with she, Viki and I, and a discovery that our schedules of who to see were pretty much direct opposites we parted ways in search of more music. I hurried back to the press tent and while I was hurriedly making notes on my laptop I was approached by two women armed with a hand-held video camera and an audio recorder.
“Are you a blogger?” they asked.
“Yes I am,” was my obvious response.
A few questions and hurried answers later and I had completed an interview for WGN radio about bloggers at Lollapalooza. If the station happens to use any of my out-of-breath answers, they will be aired in a segment during the 9 am hour on Monday morning. If they use video of me not looking at the camera while talking it’ll be posted on WGNRadio.com.
After a day and a half of infectious, poppy party music I felt it was about time to listen to something with a bit more testosterone. Lucky for me Mark Lanegan and Greg Dulli of The Gutter Twins (Web site, Myspace) have more balls between them than all of the Lollapalooza attendees combined. The band - a collaboration of two of indie-rock’s best frontmen - engaged in a set of heavy, driving, brooding guitar rock that made for one of the most intense hours of the weekend. Lanegan’s dark, deep, bass tones set a smooth yet menacing foundation that played well against Dulli’s incendiary wail.
Alone, nearly stock still, clad all in black, Lanegan’s stage presence was one of the biggest of the festival. He projected an aura of quiet overwhelming dominance that oddly enough transformed into sweet melancholy on the group’s softer tunes. For his part, Dulli showed off his Afghan Whigs pedigree with shouts and screams littering his acerbic lyrical delivery. The dichotomy led to quite a compelling interplay between the two.
Aside from the pair of indie near-legends, the rest of the band performed with wicked zeal. The drums, courtesy of Cully Symington, were pounding and on the edge of control and guitarist Dave Rosser could (and was often encouraged to) show off a sick (sick!) talent for shredding.
The day was deceptively cooler than Friday prompting me to think that I didn’t need to seek shade as I walked the short distance to see MGMT. What a fool I was.
It’s always disappointing when a band that released one of the most energetic and dynamic albums of the year turns in a live performance less interesting than just listening to the record. MGMT (Web site, Myspace began their set - starting at the hottest part of the day - with three songs that can best be described as mid-tempoed drumming behind masturbatory guitar noodling. Every song they played seemed like a slowed down version of itself, and whether they were intimidated by the crowd, feigning disaffection, or simply high, Ben Goldwasser and Andrew Van Wyngarden seemed entirely bored with the entire enterprise of playing their set.
Though first single “Electric Feel” and first track “Time to Pretend” livened up the crowd already familiar with their work, both songs were pale shadows of their recorded selves. Only set closer “Kids” was really able to set off those in attendence, and though it still lacked a bit of punch the song itself is so energetic that it was able to punch through th band’s odd malaise.
I had the very strong urge to flee the scene during this set as I could feel my un-sunscreened self slowly roasting. I stuck it out continually hoping the band would pick up their energy and my decision was barely rewarded and in the end was not worth the gnarly sunburn I got for my trouble.
A couple of hours resting and drinking in the shade (while, of course, responsibly jotted down show notes) and I was once again ready to go. The distance between the south end of the park and the north seemed to increase as the weekend went on, and I soon found myself making the (by now nearly epic) journey to see Canada’s number 1 export.
For a band known to include upwards of 15 members on its recordings, Canadian supergroup Broken Social Scene’s (Web site, Myspace) seven starting members seemed meager. The number ballooned to a more expected ten or eleven when adding horns and Stars members Evan Cranley and Amy Millan, and the multi-textured, rollicking set was perfectly framed by the sun setting behind downtown Chicago skyscrapers.
Though BSS packs both studio and a stage there’s never a note that seemed out of place. Frenetic strumming gave way to solo gave way to crashing drums and jubilant horns. The group’s incredible sonic depth (resulting from such a large crew) translated even better live than on their records as they blasted through favorites like “Time = Cause”, and “Shorelines”. A plea to the crowd to vote for Obama (“You’re not just voting for yourself, you’re voting for the world.”) during “Frightening Lies” and an exhortation to scream (“For all you love and all you hate. For all you’ve done right and all you’ve done wrong.”) before and after “It’s All Gonna Break” whipped the crowd into even more of a frenzy.
As the sun set, BSS had made sure that the energy level of the crowd kept rising. A short walk away, Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings were performing in the bandshell (the only Lollapalooza stage that’s actually a permanent part of Grant Park) that fittingly looked straight out of the 70s.
Dap-Tone Records house band The Dap Kings warmed up the crowd with some quick funk before Sharon Jones (Web site, Myspace) took the stage to thunderous applause. Jones’ control of the crowd was complete the minute she appeared bringing enough soul and funk to get even the most sedentary hipsters grooving. At 52, Jones displayed more energy on stage than most people will expend in their entire lives.
Inviting audience members on stage during “How Do I Let a Good Man Down” and “Be Easy” (“I need a man. A young one. Does he look young? Think I could get arrested?”) she had everyone that was not already jockeying for position at Wilco’s stage laughing, clapping, dancing, and having the best time they’d probably had so far.
Her set was all energy as Jones invoked the spirits (and moves) of Tina Turner and James Brown before bringing Chicago soul star Syl Johnson to join her on stage for his song “Different Strokes for Different Folks: Different Strokes for Soul Folks.” Capping the night with a bit of Gospel, the Dap Kings played Jones off the stage to tumultuous cheers, and thanked the audience for catching “The Dap-Tones Soul Review.”
After another thankfully short walk to Wilco’s stage, I found Viki (and brother and sister-in-law) hanging a bit back from the stage and joined their little soiree. I’ve always enjoyed Wilco, though I’ve never really “gotten” them. With the exception of the phenomenal Yankee Hotel Foxtrot none of their work ever really jumped out at me and hooked me.
That said, there are few things better than sitting barefoot in the slightly beer-soaked (God, I hope that was beer) grass listening to this band on the Lollapalooza north main stage with some of Chicago’s most beautiful buildings lit up and rising behind the trees. This experience alone propelled the stage to my top two places to watch bands outdoors (tied with New York’s South Street Seaport.) Wilco’s songs are always well-constructed and Jeff Tweedy’s soft delivery (trasforming on occasion into trascendant yowl) were a perfect nightcap to the festival. Though I’m no fan of extended guitar solos (and as such the band lost me every now and again) it was an excellent set to close the day.
Then again, it might have been interesting to watch the shenanigans apparently going on for Rage Against the Machine.
© Eric Atienza 2008 for Listen In Some rights reserved.
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