Going to Bonnaroo is a physically exhausting, practically challenging and dirty activity. Torrential downpours, ensuing mud pits, water shortages, and long distances create a difficulty only surpassed by the attempt to avoid contagion of Bonnarrhea (a new and protean disease born out of a hippie/hipster cesspool causing hallucinations, sweaty skinny jeans, and the untoward excretion of glowsticks). However, the lifetimes lived between the mounting anticipation of Thursday morning, and on into the blazing midday exhaustion of Saturday, led to a vague nostalgia by departure Sunday night. That is just it, you live mini musical lives in every day at Bonnaroo. The fact that people put up with all the hassle of living in this grass field, is a true testament to the music and the fans, that people are willing to do anything they must to see musical legends and the bands they have since inspired. Above all, Bonnaroo is an opportunity to experience an unparalleled star power within the spacious plane of life apropos of the South in The United States. Like the music itself, Bonnaroo is sprawling, it is sweeping, and it is beautiful: where else can you practice yoga, show your secret talent at a carnie circus, and see Andrew Bird, Public Enemy, and Dirty Projectors?
Thursday began dismal and soggy, but by the time first act White Rabbits opened the evening of latest darling indie bands at This Tent, the sun was drying mud ravines. The band nailed “Percussion Drum,” aptly titled for its dual drummers and heavy hits, and kept the crowd engaged with their 1950’s vocal and visual sensibility. The heavy bass and powerful, convincing wail of the singer sustained the intensity and set the stage well for the next act, Portland, Oregon group Hockey.
Hockey’s singer Benjamin Grubin prances, plays drums, stands on top of said drums, and fondles the mic stand like a petulant child; it is so entertaining. They opened with ‘Work’, keeping the youthful desire for playtime alive in This Tent, an appropriate song for a weekend based on a like theme. ‘Learn to Lose’ and others were cheered heartily, while the singer rapped and referenced Roxy Music. The dance party during ‘3 A.M. Spanish’, a song about quitting a study abroad to walk around Spain in the night, was followed by a stomping folk song, showing an unexpected dexterity on harmonica and acoustic guitar. Closing the set with ‘Too Fake’, the cat-like singer prowled and pranced and enthused a hot sweaty crowd.
Chairlift, introduced by the infamous festival personality Beatle Bob (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beetle_bob), propelled by deep bass and the ethereal, throaty vocals of lead singer Caroline Polachek, were as enchanting as they were fun. Channeling their haunted-house-music roots, these dreamy if not pleasantly creepy songs provided an alternate plane of living. Highlights were losing oneself in the 80’s, The Cure-esque synthesizer blanket of ‘Planet Health’, and a guest appearance by Solange Knowles during the final chorus, and the surprisingly raucous ‘Evident Utensil’. ‘Bruises’, the song popularized by an iPod commercial was damn cheerful and fun. The sweetly seductive singer also played cute with air drumming, fake keyboard moves, and a running man dance, obviously both focused and feeling like the stage was her playground. It was, and we enjoyed it.
Crossing Centeroo, running to catch the last song of Portugal. The Man and witnessing only the last throes of what must have been killer set by this quirky hard rocking group, shows the tough choices one must make, but also allowed me to witness a poetry reading, Whole Foods store, and karaoke en route.
Closing This Tent Thursday evening was the dance party powerhouse Passion Pit. This band enjoys what they do more than anyone and it was not only obvious but contagious. Highlights were ‘Little Secrets’, ‘Smile’ and final song ‘The Reeling.’ People literally danced out of their shoes. See this band now.
Sadly, a rough Friday morning caused me to miss Dirty Projectors, who “were like woodland creatures playing in a forest” with guest David Byrne on ‘Knotty Pine.’ I was told the show “didn’t make any sense, like a dog meowing.” Big mistake on my part, sounds rad.
I did have the good fortune to be enthralled by St. Vincent, whose gorgeous, ethereal vocals by Annie Clark were juxtaposed against dirty, screeching guitar and hypnotic beats. She has a voice like velvet and plays robotic, distorted guitar. ‘Laughing With A Mouth Of Blood’ was like the pain of loving something too much, a dreamy trip, a something that I cannot get enough of. This music is contradiction, featuring a characteristic gracing around the line between darkness and beauty, using flutes, saxophone, and violins to create a very large, encompassing sound. Her intelligent lyrics, disturbingly comfortable melancholy, and upbeat drive are as bafflingly original as they are addicting.
Santigold followed St. Vincent on That Tent, jumping onstage in gold-winged sneakers and a refreshing liveliness so badly needed on a hot dusty afternoon. While she hailed Brooklyn and her band and packed out the tent, Grizzly Bear played a show back at This Tent.
On the main stage, What Stage, Al Green provided a sampler of all his classic hits. Thousands of people shout ‘I’m So In Love With You’, while old memories surfaced, the sun sank behind the trees, making this physically and sentimentally rejuvenating. Al Green was vivacious, energetic, soulful and relevant in a crowd of mostly youthful revelers. The show was bright, sparkly, and beautiful, from hits like ‘Love and Happiness’ and ‘I’m So Tired of Being Alone’ to the red roses he carried, sang to, and bestowed. This was a lingering and inspiring show.
The energy of David Byrne also seemed omnipresent, from watching and performing with artists on his curated stage (first in Bonnaroo history), featuring Katzenjammer, Dirty Projectors, St. Vincent, Santigold, and Ani DiFranco, to covering Al Green’s ‘Take Me To The River’ during his own wild set. Byrne opened the night, dressed in white with matching white tutu, with ‘Strange Overtones’, flanked by mesmerizing acrobatic dancers. ‘Houses in Motion’, the creepy basement dance party vibe of ‘Born Under Punches’ and ‘Once In A Lifetime’ were major hits, though the sound of The Beastie Boys punctuated the lulls in this peaceful yet powerful performance. The dancers played leap frog over Byrne, encircled him like MacBeth’s three witches, and collapsed at his feet for a dramatic end to ‘Life During Wartime’, proving Byrne to remain the weird genius of Talking Heads fame.
After the headlining Phish show on the main stage, Pheonix took That Tent by storm with their dynamic, tight, and clean sound. The crowd surfing singer and epic battles between guitars made this music come alive, in a much more aggressive and delightful way then a listen to ‘Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix’ might suggest. They were undoubtedly one of the most talked-about shows of the weekend.
After Phoenix and an introduction by Beatle Bob, Crystal Castles transported the audience to outerspace with heavy trancey beats and the awkward pterodactyl cries of singer Alice Glass. Smoke machines appeared in the center of the audience, strobe lights could barely compete with Glass’s own glaring floodlight/dagger of light; together with the crowd, Crystal Castles, conjuring the sinister aspect of black crows, raged.
Saturday: lengthy, vigorous security checks and blistering heat proved no obstacle to the ever-increasing crowds braving mud pits, sore muscles, and tough choices for an even more full day of music. Chairlift did a stripped down set at the intimate Sonic Stage, while surprise performer Jimmy Buffet played Scarlet Begonias to a packed lawn.
Elvis Perkins in Dearland provided the perfect 1950’s rockabilly pick-me-up.This hard to classify but fascinating group features a wide variety of instrumentation, including an accordion played stationary from a table, an upright bass, and horn section. Their subtle melodic charm was in full force during ‘Shampoo’ and they continued strong with soft, dirge-like anthemic music. The band played a shorter set at the Sonic Stage on Sunday, where guest Justin Vernon of Bon Iver joined the band for the last two songs. The horn section of the band jumped into the audience, playing with exaggerated motions, well accompanying the drama of Perkins’ voice from another generation. Small stages like Sonic allow for great, more personal shows and evidence Bonnaroo’s knack for crafting unique and unexpected experiences throughout the festival.
Saturday late afternoon featured some difficult choices, but Bon Iver owned this afternoon. Vernon’s slow croon began ‘Creature Fear’, the pounding drums punctuated velvety vocals as people began chanting along. ‘Skinny Love’ followed, featuring dual drummers, an insane guitar solo during ‘Blood Bank’ gave way to a deep, soulful, mourning song composed for a Redeye compilation, and dedicated to Wisconsin. ‘Flume’ felt like nostalgia washing over us in waves, the guitar slowly caressing and lingering in the humid afternoon, complemented by Vernon’s full voice. The show was better than, but almost like, a comfortable Sunday morning in bed. Bon Iver covered Yo La Tengo, told the crowd they were “cool as hell” and seemed thankful to be playing there. ‘For Emma’, with its melodic guitar and slippery horns was definitely a hit, but was surpassed by the soft, soothing and encompassing power of ‘Re: Stacks.’ I had chills. Closing with ‘The Wolves (Act I & II)’,Vernon invited the crowd to join in on his “ninja shit” and “scream to break the roof off the tent.” We were so close.
After a quick recharge at the Fuze tent, which featured air conditioning, karaoke, and free internet access, I ran back to This Tent in time to see Beatle Bob (who really was everywhere) announce mind blowing Athens, Georgia band Of Montreal. Ghosts and tigers prowled the stage until Kevin Barnes appeared in a white space suit of sorts, backed by his characteristic alien-like band. Dual video projections screened cartoon animations and overlapping distorted video of Barnes singing, while the crowd took more photographs than any other show yet, perhaps due to the rotating cast of gas-masked monster/dancers, mostly nude people being carried around, and animal costumes. Though Of Montreal performed well and provided ample aural and visual delight, this was the tamest show I have seen of theirs. This could be the heat, and since the crowd seemed to respond more to ‘Skeletal Lamping’ than earlier album songs, though ‘The Party Is Crashing Us Now’ off The Sunlandic Twins was a beautiful spectacle, this was most likely the first Of Montreal show for many. Still, insane dancing in mud pits was grinned upon during their closing ‘She’s A Rejecter.’
Shortly thereafter, the Which Stage and all its attendants were dominated by The Mars Volta. Last time I saw this band was on an outside stage with lightning striking behind them; my soul came out of my body and was forever lost in that very spot, entranced by Omar Rodriguez-Lopez’s unparalleled mastery of the guitar and the booming, overpowering bass. Transcendent. The manic, pummeling enthusiasm is still there, if some of the drama is lost after the first time. This is an epic band with the classic rock star appeal and a sense of humor. After an explosion of sound, Cedric Bixler-Zavala takes a break to wish us Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and comment, “Gotta get my hair done, gotta get my nails done.” ? Exactly. These band members are robots, and they are going to take over the world with their shredded guitars and frenetic energy. The Mars Volta are a spastic, bombastic, acrobatic beast of a prog rock group.
Headlining that night was “The Boss” Springsteen. This drew the largest crowd yet (more that Phish?! AH) and screams of “Bruce-a-rooo” filled the air. When he finally began with ‘Bad Land’ a half hour late, his haggard looks and off key rasp during ‘Outlaw’ terrified me to the point of leaving. However, the man does have stamina, and people throwing his records into the air obviously did love his three and a half hour set, including the stories and the preaching. Seeing a show of this scale successfully orchestrated and enjoyed was inspiring, and his eleven piece E-Street Band were most professional, forceful and talented. Oh, and continuing where The Mars Volta began, Springsteen sang ‘Santa Claus Is Coming To Town.’ Bonnaroo is atemporal.
Sunday morning, following Elvis Perkins in Dearland on the Sonic Stage, Andrew Bird created a clear and fresh space for dreamy daytime wanderings of the mind. His Jeff Buckley falsetto, bouncy, memorable whistle and theatrical violins were a massage for the brain, and giant spinning gramophones onstage provided yet another unique aspect to his show. Bird’s modern take on classical sound was penetrating, relaxing and invigorating. Bird proved an oddly appropriate opener for what, in the end, drew the largest crowds: Snoop Dog.
Snoop Dog is more than a novelty or a dirty man with a platinum mic reading “Snoop,” he is a fantastic performer whose older hits, ‘Gin and Juice’, everything off the Dr. Dre album The Chronic, and ‘Jump Around’ segued seamlessly into the latest, such as ‘Drop It Like It’s Hot’ and ‘Blame It On The Alcohol.’ He brought a hilarious dance party, with guest Erykah Badu, sported a West Coast t-shirt, got the crowd into a West Side/East Side tizzy, announced “motha fuckin Phish” and had every white kid in Manchester, Tennessee shouting “Snoop Doggie Dog” for a perfectly legitimate reason. His last words?: “Peace, Love, Snoop. Smoke weed!”
The lovely thing about Bonnaroo, immediately after this phenomena I stumbled upon the final teeth-gnashing throes of Coheed and Cambria, and the soft charm of Neko Case. Phish began their set, complete with the three million dollar light set by Chris Kuroda, often referred to as the fifth member of the band, nine million glow sticks flying through the air, and fireworks from ecstatic campers outside the show.
In the end, I severely abused my media pass to see many sides of the festival, from the wookie world to watching Santigold next to David Byrne, spending nights in a seeming Prevost graveyard and lots of quality flying around. It is fascinating to see the different Bonnaroo worlds from artist to attendant, but for each, the overwhelming saliency is the love and awe of talented people that this festival enables. There is a liberation and growth, a feeling of unequaled potential and opportunity to see new bands and legendary acts that fuels this expanse in all directions. Both the fans and the booking agents exhibit a dedication to the arts, and for all the difficulty, this is still the largest, most finely tuned, and experienced creative machine in America.
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