As day two of All Points West opened I found myself once again in front of the Blue Comet stage with the summer sun bearing down, this time waiting for Chromeo (Web site, Myspace) to begin their set. At this point the hour and a half train ride and half an hour walk to the park had begun to put a cramp in my entire lower body, but the prospect of another day of music drove me on.

Cheers erupted as Chromeo took the stage (two guys from Montreal that look like they’re from New Jersey) and dropped their brand of 80s-inspired dance music on the eager crowd. Their synth boards, keys, and vocoder had the crowd partying like it was 1989, and they didn’t stop until the stage was quiet and the last synthesized notes were fading into the air.

While Chromeo showcased its electronic tendencies effectively enough, Animal Collective (Web site, Myspace) used these same tools to create an almost transcendental experience on stage, though only two of the band’s four members were present. The group wove together a mix of rock, electronica, noise, and glitch to project a monstrous, cavernous, reverberating wave of sound out into the audience and over the Hudson River. The crowd grooved, swayed, and got it’s mind blown into little pieces as the pair opened up a can of experimentation on All Points West.

The Black Angels(Web site, Myspace) were up next on the Bullet stage adding a bit of dark, driving blues-rock to the afternoon’s musical menu. The aesthetic they built was brooding and slightly menacing with an edge of excitement that managed to not let them be completely overshadowed by the fantastic set that preceded them.

Back on the Blue Comet stage, the Kings of Leon (Web site, Myspace) were unleashing the kind of southern-tinged, gritty, straightforward rock that the radio and a great, great many people seem to adore but that I tend to find incredibly boring. They played their parts well, engaging the crowd and stirring them into a near-frenzy, but I quickly made my way back to the Bullet stage to watch the set-up for Philadelphia’s favorite sons.

The Roots (Myspace) built slowly, expanding on Captain Kirk Douglass’ bluesy guitar riffs until all seven members were jamming to the jazz-infused hip-hop the revolutionary group is known for. Black Thought laid down sick rhymes over ?uestlove’s signature drum beats while Owen Biddle on bass and Damon Bryson on sousaphone dropped some funk into the mix. Kamal Gray’s keys added texture over the top as occasional hype-man F. Knuckles’ added percussion filled out the sound.

The crowd was moving and dancing from the performance’s first notes as the forty-five-minutes-and-over-too-soon set showcased the dazzling abilities of each of the group’s members. In the midst of the soul-filled party beats flying through the air Biddle tossed in a straight up jazz solo on his bass and Gray knocked some sweet Little Richard-style rock out of his keyboard. Somewhere in there the band broke to show off Bryson’s sousa licks (through cheeks so pouched they’d make Dizzie Gillespie proud) and to let Douglass unleash one of the most wicked guitar solos the solo-rich state of New Jersey had heard in a long while. His picking channeled King and Hendrix while his riffs evoked Richards and Slash. His guitar was practically smoking from the heat he poured into it, switching speeds and styles at the drop of a hat. That is to say (for only the second time in the history of this column) that the dude could fucking shred. Last but not least, of course, were Black Thought’s wicked rhymes, spit in varied rhythms to make the growing audience alternately bounce, bob, groove, and whoop its brains out as he defied all logical expectations of human speaking and breathing ability. The intensity never let up, the energy was wild, and nobody within earshot was glad when it was over.

After this impromptu block-party in the middle of Liberty State Park, after the last bits of funk and jazz had faded, after the living legend Roots had left the stage… I saw Radiohead again.

All Points West Day Two = Success.

© Eric Atienza 2008 for Listen In. Some rights reserved.

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