When Barton Springs Road becomes a trail for foot traffic and the friendly food trailers start charging for parking, it can only mean one thing: The Austin City Limits Music Festival has finally landed. To many avid audiophiles, the letters “ACL” are synonymous with Christmas.
With a lineup as vibrant and diverse as Austin, the fans in yellow wristbands couldn’t even pretend to suppress their giddy grins on Friday. Pedicabs offered their thrones to the flower children frolicking by, for the grand ball awaited them, and they couldn’t bare to miss a note.
After a symphony of scanning wristbands, music lovers shot through the red and white gates to immerse themselves in the action. Son Little’s sleepy afternoon set gently warmed up the more lethargic revelers. Lead singer Aaron Livingston, clad in three shades of red, crooned his way through “O Mother” with a smoky voice that seemed to come from a deep volcanic pit of bubbling soul.
Across the park, a collective of fraternity bros congregated near the Honda Stage to hear fun.’s frontman Nate Ruess. His presence was as effervescent as his piercing falsetto. Although currently touring his latest solo album, Grand Romantic, Ruess didn’t leave fun. fans wanting. The banner-waving anthem “Carry On” sent hands and larynxes up to the sky and ended, no doubt, in a hoarse collective of inspired festival goers.
Meanwhile, at the Tito’s Handmade Vodka Stage (lovingly referred to as “that Gospel tent” by ACLers), San Francisco funk band Con Brio sweated and boogied to an infectious rainbow of rhythms. Ziek McCarter serenaded the microphone like he would a long lost lover. His rapid pirouettes whirled his feet across the stage just in time to land a sliding split and launch into the next chorus. Though, once his sultry vocals did hit the speakers, you couldn’t really hear him over the echoing shrieks from the crowd.
Drew Holcomb and the Neighbors drew an introspective gathering to the Austin Ventures Stage. Holcomb’s fresh and simple melodies just beg for harmonies, and many fans collaborated from the crowd. As flip flops flicked off feet, a choir of voices sang the third and fifth above his breezy musical concoctions. Though maybe not as articulate as Holcomb’s honeyed lyrics, fans did proclaim to have “all the feels” as the performance progressed.
Amid the practically seamless performances occurring throughout the park, the 4:00 hour brought some unexpected hiccups. Leon Bridges, modern music’s favorite Cinderella story, faced some unfortunate sound glitches during his first two songs. His opening tune “Flowers” sounded like it was filtered through a static-filled turntable. By the time hips started swaying to “Brown Skin Girl”, however, Bridge’s rich voice flowed through the speakers with crystalline purity.
Billy Idol’s “Eyes Without a Face” drifted across the field as fanny packs and lawn chairs pulled closer. His catalogue of hits have reigned as karaoke bar staples since they first blasted through airwaves, but Idol needed an extra boost when it came time for “Rebel Yell.” The pinging organ and escalating guitar screams worked through the opening measures, but Idol stopped singing after the first verse. As the masses unintelligibly screamed the lyrics from the grass, Idol walked over to have a word with Steve Stevens. The music abruptly halted and then resumed from the top. The end of the first verse brought a similar story. Before his third go round, Idol cheekily announced that he would retire if he couldn’t get the song rolling. Luckily, Idol’s not going anywhere, because when the song finally started roaring he made it worth the wait.
A tricky choice tasked revelers as they deliberated between seeing Brandon Flowers and Tame Impala, but Rhiannon Giddens still gathered a tight group of roots music fans. Waves of psychedelic swirls and emotive singing threatened to drown out her euphoric blend of gospel and bluegrass, but her cover of Blu Cantrell’s “Hit ‘Em Up Style” drowned out the invading cacophony in a barefoot Kentucky hoedown.
Friday night concluded with the much-anticipated Foo Fighters. Dave Grohl, still confined to his guitar throne due to injury, managed to spur the energy without ever putting weight on his feet. Occasionally throwing in a rowdy growl for extra edge, Grohl basked under the lights and revved up the masses with “The Pretender” and “Times Like These.”
Grohl doesn’t live in the Live Music Capital, but he considered calling it a second home during his headlining set. With the beaming skyline illuminating the backdrop and the sparkling stars scattered in between, it’s easy to swoon over this city. As fans headed toward the exit, the sweeping spotlights crossed paths in the park’s nucleus. Disclosure’s hypnotizing arrangements clashed against The Foo Fighter’s, but the sound rang with oddly captivating overtones. Just like this city, there’s no clear-cut culture at ACL. It’s a beautiful amalgamation of sound and personalities, and the yellow wristbands couldn’t wait to come back and jump in the swirl the next day.
Photos by Maggie Boyd and Merrick Ales.
One Response