Show Review

Why can’t I just live in California? It’s not that I can’t, not that I am incapable of moving (I mean, I don’t own that much stuff), but jobs and girlfriends and family and cost of living all added together are often too much weight to throw off and upend your entire life.

But enough of that for now. This year, I returned to California’s Coachella Valley precisely because of the great atmosphere created by an innovative festival, this time not being drawn in by such luminaries as Radiohead and the Pixies (as was the case in 2004). This was a year for stage hopping, half sets, three-song checkouts and then bouncing off to the next tent or stage. My friends and I saw 26 bands in two days. By the end of each night, my legs and feet were barely capable of supporting my weight, but there’s no sympathy for whiners.

Day One, with temperatures in the manageable upper-80s, opened with Buck 65 on the Main Stage. While I’d heard one of his songs on satellite radio the week before leaving, I still couldn’t get a clear bead on where he was coming from. It’s hip-hop, for sure, but the instrumentation is dark and almost country/folkish. Then there’s the vocal delivery: a smoother Tom Waits is what I immediately registered, though after listening to more studio work I’m not sure that’s the correct comparison. I enjoyed his set, found it a nice way to open the weekend.

On to the Mojave Tent, we caught the last third of the Sexy Magazines, all pomp and flash with little substance. The band members seemed to care more about how they looked while vamping for the crowd than actually playing something interesting. Yawns all around. Over lunch purchased from a few of the local vendors, we overheard Boom Bip drifting out of the Gobi Tent, which sounded pleasant, but I was concentrating on other things. K-os followed Boom Bip and several members of our group were excited for this set. One even remarked that K-os were “the real deal.” Not too sure what that meant, I still wasn’t overly impressed by the performance, as I rarely am with hip-hop shows (though there would definitely be an exception later in the day). Don’t get me wrong, I listen to my fair share of the genre, but I find it more appealing on headphones or the stereo, as it rarely translates well to a live setting. Regardless, I was mainly there to jockey for position for M83.

M83 bounced between songs from Dead Cities, Red Seas and Lost Ghosts and their new album, Before the Dawn Heals Us, and while most of the material featured their more explosive explorations that are all about the build to a soaring climax (which can get a bit predictable), the set was varied (and powerful) enough to shake even the most uptight listener. I was amazed at how big their sound was and, oddly enough, most vividly remember the one song toward the end that wasn’t all about the build. It had a bubbling bass line with muted synths working around the openings and never tried to break loose from its original framework. If it’s from a b-side or is unreleased, I’d love to get it somehow. After M83, I have a difficult time remembering what happened until Wilco took the Main Stage two hours later. I think we might have seen some of the Stereophonics, maybe some Snow Patrol, and I definitely bought a nifty black Coachella T-shirt as Wilco opened with “The Late Greats.” After that, it was full immersion into a solid and satisfying set that included a nice variety of Summerteeth, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, and A Ghost Is Born. I would try to pick some highlights, but in the shortened festival set, every song that they played was appreciated.

After Wilco, we made an agreement to stay for three Weezer songs before hustling over to see Four Tet in the Gobi. I can say, with conviction, that I’ve never seen a band look more bored than Weezer. It was like playing was a chore, and the performance was completely uninspired, leaving my opinion of the band more diminished than ever. Finding your way out of the Main Stage area in the dark is not an easy task, especially when you’re pretty close to the front, so we caught only the last half of Four Tet, which was even more interesting than expected. It’s difficult to get a visual kick out of a turntable-laptop set, but Kieran Hebden did some very creative retooling of his studio stuff – danceable in spots, but always making you nod and smile in approval. He would start with a familiar sound, such as “My Angel Rocks Back and Forth” or “She Moves She”, both from Rounds, and would then twist and morph the aesthetic of the song into completely foreign and beautiful territory.

Our first trip to the beloved Outdoor Theater found the stage being shattered by a massive set from Sage Francis. Now this was a hip-hop performance, large in every sense. Featured material was from Personal Journals, Non-Prophets’ Hope, and his new album, Healthy Distrust, all peppered with plenty of commentary on the current state of our country and capped with a soul-crunching rendition of “The Star Spangled Banner.” Even from 200 feet away, Sage’s stage presence demanded attention. I wished he could have played for at least another hour, but Mercury Rev had to claim their spot as the psych-rock act of the weekend. Only hearing scattered songs from a couple of Mercury Rev’s studio releases and never before seeing them live, we loved and were often baffled by the stage antics of their lead singer, Jonathan Donahue, which included overly dramatic hand gestures and some sort of “power transfer” to each band member in time with the music. As Donahue leaned over the lead guitarist, who was deep into a theatrical crouch and dressed in cowboy boots, a flashy red western-style shirt and Elvis shades, and showered him with invisible energy, my friend Kris remarked, “Honestly, he makes the guitarist look subtle.” I’d definitely see them again.

Finally, a decision to close out Day One: Spoon or Coldplay, Spoon or Coldplay … hmmm, Spoon! For us, it was an easy choice. To mostly the band members’ dismay, the Outdoor Theater’s sound was muted and scratchy in spots. From out in the grass, the sound was decent, but shortly before they began, the sound man blew one of the stage speakers. The first two songs were saddled with problems, with the keyboardist making repeated motions to the soundboard before eventually stomping over to the side of the stage and screaming directions at the poor guy, who was apparently pulled out of the beer garden to run the board. After those initial glitches, things smoothed out and we were treated to a rocking set … until Britt Daniel’s voice gave out from having to shout for lack of proper monitor sound on stage. Problems aside, Spoon was a great way to end Day One. "Paper Tiger," "My Mathematical Mind," and "Small Stakes" were highlights. "I know we're up against the Big Band," said Britt Daniels, referring to Coldplay's gigantic audience at the Main Stage, "so thanks for coming to our little corner of Coachella. Hey, I think they're playing their hit!"

PART 2

Day Two was a little hotter and with a hell of a breeze that at times approached what meteorologists would call a “strong wind.” We wandered around the grounds of the Empire Polo Fields (which plays host to the festival each year), not sure where to go to start our day. One of the earliest Sunday bands was Midlake in the Mojave Tent. Previously unknown to any of us, they provided an ideal, early afternoon warm-up with piano and acoustic guitar-driven melodies reminiscent of Radiohead’s mellower moments, but unlike the Coldplay/Travis knock-off sound that that comparison implies. I’m on the lookout for one of their albums. Obligatory Coachella celebrity sighting: Jason Lee (of Kissing a Fool fame) was spotted in the fenced-off soundboard area during Midlake’s set and seemed to be enjoying himself. His beard is fantastic.

Leaving the Mojave, we walked around, overheard some Sloan, which was belting out one of their classics from mid-90s alt-rock radio and made our way back to the Main Stage to catch the end of Gram Rabbit, a “local” band hailing from the town of Joshua Tree. Gram Rabbit passed out hundreds of floppy, pink-and-white bunny ears to the crowd and were themselves dressed in skin-tight, white body suits and rabbit heads. To note, the band members bouncing around the stage in these outfits were female and of the required figures to look rather sexy in skin-tight, white rabbit body suits. The music was a mesh of glam and beats with the “hey, we’re having fun!” aspect of style over substance.

After Gram Rabbit took their cutesy shtick off the Main Stage, we stayed for a bit of the Perceptionists, but I remember exactly nothing about their set, so it’s on to the Fiery Furnaces at the Outdoor Theater. Having just seen the Furnaces a week prior to Coachella, I knew what to expect. It’s hard to describe the their set, other than that it’s a non-stop, hour-long cannon shot that tears through songs mainly from Blueberry Boat and EP, literally without any breaks. The pace is unrelenting, and the songs, bigger, faster and harder to identify, spill on top of one another. Elenor Friedberger delivers line after line of vocal prose at a mind-numbing clip, which makes you wonder how she gets through even 30 minutes without growing scratchy and hoarse. Although I tremendously enjoyed the Furnaces, it was during this time slot that I missed one band that I later wish I’d seen: Kasabian. Just from talking to people who saw them and reading a few reviews, they sound like something I’d be into. Oh well, with 80 bands, you can’t see everything and there is always iTunes. After the Furnaces, half the crowd left the Outdoor Theater (presumably to see the Bravery) and we stayed to endure a set from Tegan and Sara in order to get a close spot for the Arcade Fire. Tegan and Sara, for those who don’t know, hail from Canada (!) and play non-threatening, whimsical bedroom rock for 14-year-old girls. Compared to something like Ashlee Simpson, Tegan and Sara’s sound is decidedly more entertaining, though it was far from my favorite set of the weekend. In striking contrast, the band that followed, also fellow Canadians, absolutely destroyed the crowd (myself included) with the most thrilling, memorable set of Coachella.

Without question, the Arcade Fire played the set of the weekend. They made their fans scream and jump with ecstatic delight and utterly silenced their backlash critics by leaving a pool of blood on the stage (both figuratively and literally, as one of the band members gashed his hand open while climbing the metal stage support to whack another band member with a drum stick). Some random visuals: People rotating instruments like mad, everyone singing the choruses whether they were in front of a microphone or not, happily ramming each other with cymbal stands, Win Butler, the 6’6” lead singer, stage diving into the crowd, and the two violinists (one female, the other male) trying to repeatedly shove each other to the ground and whack one another with their bows. Throw together all the stage antics with powerful renditions of “Wake Up,” “Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels),” and “Rebellion (Lies)” and it’s easy to imagine this performance being talked about for months. One of the band’s vocal naysayers, my friend Kris, turned around after the set, mashed a fist into his open palm and, with a wicked grin, screamed “That was incredible!” A few phrases overheard as we were milling through the crowd: “This will go down as one of the great sets in Coachella’s history” and “I’d pay a thousand dollars to see that again,” along with the words “legendary” and “holy shit” being thrown around quite liberally. Truthfully, I cannot say enough about their set. It made my weekend.

Once everyone gathered their senses, the rest of my group headed off for food and I moved a little closer to the stage for Aesop Rock. While I still prefer his studio sound, his concert presence was pretty savvy. With his unmistakable baritone-staccato delivery, Ace bombed the crowd with a hits collection from Labor Days, Bazooka Tooth and Fast Cars, Danger, Fire and Knives. A sparkling medley of “11:35”, “No Regrets” and “Mars Attacks” formed a centerpiece of the set. Fellow Def Jux label mate Mr. Lif helped Aesop on vocals and was given a spot to highlight one of his new songs before Ace delivered a show-closing “Daylight” to the delight of everyone who knew the song. After the satisfying, if short, Aesop set, I scooped up a Teriyaki Bowl from one of the vendors (which were pretty damn good) and strolled over to see Matmos.

Using peculiar backdrop videos that included surgery footage, time lapse of cigarette burns and atlas maps of various locations looped in odd time signatures, Matmos delivered some delicious, glitchy, minimalistic anti-pop to the gathered few who didn’t want to brave the Main Stage to see New Order. One of my highlights was watching two young guys, presumably doped on some sort of pill with a butterfly or Mitsubishi logo stamped on its face, actually trying to dance to Matmos. To be more specific, what they were doing was more of a stumbling swagger with a few shoulder dips, twirls of the arms and general convulsions thrown in here and there, kind of like a boxer getting his ass kicked. Matmos produces some highly inventive, often sparse IDM for a specific audience – meaning that it’s not for everyone and simply very rewarding for the rest of us.

We left quickly after Matmos waived goodbye and managed to hear Nine Inch Nails from about a half-mile away playing “Terrible Lie,” “Burn,” “Closer,” “The Big Come Down,” “Suck,” and “Even Deeper,” the last of which was heard while walking away to see Wolf Eyes. Unfortunately, NIN followed “Even Deeper” with “Wish,” which was the one NIN song that I definitely wanted to hear. Ya can’t win ‘em all, Danny. So, Wolf Eyes. What to say…is the bald guy’s name really Mondo or was that just a nickname that we made up for him? I can’t remember (though I’ve come to find out that he goes by Spykes or John Olson). I’d call Wolf Eyes’ sound assaulting and monstrous. Of the three band members, the one on the right, Aaron Dilloway, was rotating between jabbing at his guitar, manipulating dials on numerous machines, smashing a cymbal on a table with a microphone lodged in his mouth, or slamming the cymbal on the table with the microphone. Mondo (or Spykes, or John) was pumping his fist to the electric drum beats while Nate Young, standing stoic in the middle of all this chaos, was playing with different types of vocal moans/screams with two microphones in his mouth. “So we’re from Michigan,” Young said in between songs, “and we don’t know what the hell we’re doing here. This is like a foreign land.” After two songs of complete sonic destruction, he stopped the assault and uttered, “Louder. They like it louder … all of it,” which we all thought was the perfect comment. “All of it.” Rock and roll.

While Blackstar closed out the Main Stage, the last two acts at the Outdoor Theater were the Faint and Bright Eyes. I watched most of the Faint from a safe distance and was probably slightly more impressed than any of my friends. The Faint rides the momentum of an instantly danceable guitar-and-bass, club-ready anthem set and the crowd around us was really into it, which alone made me enjoy their set more than I originally expected. A lot of the Faint’s audience must have ventured off to see either Prodigy or the Locust, because we moved surprisingly close for Bright Eyes. What came to pass was a set of material culled exclusively from Digital Ash in a Digital Urn, his companion album to the amazing I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning, with a full rock band in support. Now I hate to hear people leave a concert saying, “That show wasn’t good because they didn’t play such-n-such song” or “I didn’t like it because it wasn’t what I wanted,” but I found most of Conor Oberst’s song selection to be uninteresting and bland, with the exception of two or three songs somewhere in the mix. Personally, I would have preferred seeing a more intimate performance with a few of his folk-inspired selections (or at least a wider example of his catalog), but you can’t fault the artist for sticking to his guns. While it might have been the songs, the performance, or simply my drained physical and mental state, I will still jump at the next opportunity to see Bright Eyes in concert, if only to prove my first encounter with him a fluke. Even though it wasn’t the perfect way to end the festival, the many highlights, musical and otherwise, that we had over the course of those two days easily outweighed all other concerns.

Coachella, with its desert setting and an abundance of visual and musical treats, is something that I will continue to love and support as long as I can. Hopefully the musicians and their fans will do the same for years to come