2005 ACL Fest Home > Reports from the ACL Festival > Archives > 2005 > September > 25
Sunday, September 25, 2005
Coldplay makes it all worthwhile
Despite the three days of heat, and despite the settling fog of headache-inducing dust (I suspect we’ll be bleeding dirt for weeks), a majority of festers still dragged themselves to Coldplay’s flashy event-ending set. Of course, being the final hour-and-a-half-long act gave Chris Martin’s quartet the right to be as theatrical as Cher and as self-righteous as U2’s Bono. The big-screen camera shots and negative-exposure effects didn’t help their music, but it sure didn’t hurt the experience.
“Politik,” “Yellow” and “The Scientist” were more than just crowd pleasers — their inspired singer, Martin, immersed himself in each song with a passion matching what his studio albums have captured. With the subtle addition of guitarist Jon Buckland and quaking bassist Guy Berryman, the songs adopted Coldplay’s most anthemlike sound yet.
Perhaps they were trying to prove themselves as ACL’s last act. Intimidated by an earlier headliner, the Arcade Fire, Martin gracefully admitted that bands like Fire, “should make you try all the more hard.” Another inspiration was Johnny Cash, to whom they paid homage with an English-accented “Ring of Fire.” (Does this mean that Trent Reznor is going to start to cover Coldplay?)
After encore songs “Clocks” and “Fix You,” the show came to an end. The soft piano melody on “Clocks” was as hauntingly loud as ever, and “Fix You” vibrated with an acoustic flutter. Gritty figures sifted out of the concert grounds with one thought in mind: If this kind of show keeps up, Martin’s crew could easily leave Dave Matthews and his cronies in the dust.
Nashville before Britpop with Dierks Bentley
Chalk it up as one of those “Nowhere-But-ACL” kind of moments. “This is the first time we’ve ever opened for Coldplay,” Dierks Bentley announced from the Austin Ventures stage on Sunday. “I was talking to Chris Martin backstage; we flipped a coin and I lost, so.”
Actually, it was Bentley, not the red-hot British trio that was the anomaly: Bentley was the only mainstream Nashville country act to play the 2005 edition of the festival. His past visits to Austin consisted of opening for George Strait’s sold-out show at the Erwin Center and his local debut for a couple of hundred folks at SXSW a couple of years ago. What a difference millions in record sales will make.
Bentley’s set was an abbreviated rendition of his headlining show, drawing largely from his second major-label release, “Modern Day Drifter.” Though he could probably coast on his lean good looks and curly mop of hair, Bentley obviously cares about more than the surface gloss of his aggressively commercial product (not that there’s anything wrong with that). The title track to “Modern Day Drifter,” for instance, owes more than a little bit to Waylon Jennings’ classic sound. And opening his show with a thrashing version of Rodney Crowell’s “Ain’t Living Long Like This,” followed shortly by a Buddy Miller song, “My Love Will Follow You,” seemed to show that Bentley is more than happy to tip his songwriter’s cap to his predecessors.
A couple of his ballads were crushed in the cacophony coming off adjacent stages, but the several thousand Bentley fans were there to hear his picaresque good ol’ boy tales such as “Cab of My Truck,” “Domestic, Light and Cold” and his breakout hit, “What Was I Thinking.” It wasn’t Coldplay — who, one might say, closed for Bentley — but it wasn’t bad.
Permalink | |
Black Keys a hard-core White Stripes
Because they’re a two-piece blues band, Akron’s Black Keys have been compared to Detroit’s White Stripes. But there are plenty of notable differences — Keys drummer Patrick Carney can actually play, for one thing, and guitarist Dan Auerbach’s style is far grittier and more elemental than Jack White’s. It’s simple, hard-core and full of Hendrix influences.
Carney and Auerbach quickly won over a huge Heineken stage crowd eager to experience the young pair’s raw musical prowess, delivered on such tunes as “Thickfreakness,” “The Breaks,” “Girl is on my Mind,” “Set You Free,” “The Moan” and “10 a.m. Automatic.”
Just when they threatened to get boring, however — there’s only so much Black Keys one can take before it starts to sound repetitious — they pulled out a cool “Grown So Ugly” and an even cooler, fuzz-guitar-filled finale, the Beatles “She Said, She Said.” John Lennon would have been proud of the treatment they gave it, and their fans loved it. And loved them. No question they were one of the big hits of ACL fest. It won’t be surprising if they wind up on a bigger stage next year.
Groveling is the new cockiness with Wilco
“I know you’ve been out in the sun all day,” Wilco frontman Jeff Tweedy told a hot, dusty and nearly festivaled-out crowd late Sunday afternoon during his band’s Cingular stage set at ACL fest. “But you could help out more.
“Wilco doesn’t usually come begging,” he added. “But life’s too short. Please, show some enthusiasm!”
Just then, a much-needed breeze kicked up and the band launched into “A Shot in the Arm.” The combination worked. After the next tune, “War on War,” in which Tweedy led the newly responsive audience in hand claps as a feedback maelstrom built behind him, he said, “I like this groveling thing. Groveling. Groveling. It’s the new cockiness.”
Leave it to Tweedy to keep the quotes coming, along with such fine melodies as “Jesus, Etc.,” “I’m the Man Who Loves You,” “I Am Trying to Break Your Heart” and “I’m Always in Love” — a cut from “Summer Teeth,” an album he said the band doesn’t visit often in concert. They also performed a new song he said was written “just for you, Austin.” He didn’t offer a title for the funky tune, which featured guitarist Nels Cline on dobro. But it was clear Tweedy and the band were having fun and working hard to entertain. They didn’t have to grovel. Fortunately, the audience finally noticed.
Innocuous Franz Ferdinand gets the kids dancing
You have to go back to, I don’t know, maybe the Stray Cats and Duran Duran to find a band so committed to its innocuousness as Scotland’s Franz Ferdinand, who are about as original as wearing a “Vote For Pedro” T-shirt, but kick it out like they’re the saviors of rock. The band’s in such heavy “new album promotion” mode that they did their big hit, “Take Me Out,” which welds a Strokes intro onto Gang Of Four guitar and MTV ‘83 melody, early on.
Drummer Paul Johnson stepped to the front on “Walk Away,” a pastiche of new wave cliches, from the Oct. 4 release, “You Could Have It So Much Better,” as a helicopter with a cameraman leaning dangerously close to the edge, circled around. No doubt this will be for an upcoming video. No doubt it will sell a ton. No doubt critics will hate it.
But a non-caffeinated version of Franz Duran is not an option. They eat up the spotlight. They get the kids dancing. Don’t hate them just because you can’t wipe the stupid grin off their Shaun Cassidy faces. Then again …
Up a ‘Dry River’ with Dave Alvin and the Guilty Men
Near the end of his perfectly timed 45 minute set in the multiset bleed zone known as the Austin Ventures stage, Dave Alvin sang “Ashgrove,” a song about how he longed to return to a dark nightclub of his youth. Choked in the dust and baked in the sun, many in the respectful, yet not entirely enthused, audience were no doubt begging to be brought along.
Backed by the Guilty Men, Austinites Chris Miller on guitar, drummer Darren Hess and New Orleans exile Dale Spalding on harmonica, plus way too loud bassist Gregory Boaz, Alvin seemed out of sorts in the heat and had to cut his set short when his amp gave out during “American Music,” from his old Blasters band.
But on “Out of Control,” with its gutbucket wordplay, and “Dry River,” featuring Miller on otherwordly steel guitar, Alvin and Co. put it all together and for a few moments there even drown out a band that should’ve been called the Septemberists in the insane heat.
Permalink | |
Naked in the sun with Jason Mraz
When Jason Mraz introduced his drummer, Adam King, during their ACL Fest performance Sunday, Mraz said, “He hasn’t seen this many naked people since Glastonbury.”
I have news for him: Maybe being naked helped at that U.K. festival, but it sure wouldn’t have made a difference in the afternoon heat at Zilker Park — unless those naked people were skinny-dipping. If this weekend’s weather proved anything, it’s that Austin’s festival needs to move back even further. October would have to be cooler. Otherwise, it needs to go back to two days. As it is now, the event is just too much of an endurance test. Mraz wound up playing to an audience that might have been far more enthusiastic — screaming girls notwithstanding — if they’d been able to do much more than try to keep from sweating to death.
Mraz’s performance also lacked the spontaneity and witty repartee that endeared him to a boatload of critics during a special South By Southwest performance in March. The funniest moment of his performance — screaming girls notwithstanding — was when he stopped in the middle of his big hit, “The Remedy (I Won’t Worry),” and said, “In case you guys missed it,” then launched into a verse of “Wonderwall,” by Oasis, who played Saturday night. His songs were pleasant enough, however, and when he hit a little reggae groove in “I’m Yours,” swaying his hips and singing in his highest falsetto, he drew another round of screams.
Mraz is lite pop, lite funk, lite jazz, lite Jack Johnson. But hey, when he unleashes his witty wordplay, as he finally did in “The Remedy,” even big girls — and guys — seem to like him fine.
Ruthie Foster brings balm to Gilead
It might have seemed counterintuitive to invoke heaven on a day that was hotter than hell, but that’s just what Ruthie Foster did when she opened her set at the Capital Metro stage with a soulful version of Sister Rosetta Tharp’s “Music In the Air.”
“Y’all ready for some church?” she asked the sweltering crowd, as hands rose in affirmation and shouts of “Amen!” rang forth. As anyone who has seen Foster (especially those who caught her ACL performance last year) knows, Foster’s robust fusion of blues, soul, folk and gospel could make a holy roller out of a coma victim.
Abetted by a tight and versatile rhythm section and an accompanist who alternated between dobro and lap steel, Foster debuted a new song, “Mama Said,” full of maternal homilies (“Tell your feet not to be in such a hurry…”), and a lilting, yearning version of Terri Hendrix’s “Hole In My Pocket.”
But it wasn’t until her sinewy version of her reggae-tinged “Real Love” that she found a spark that ignited the audience; one searing, galvanizing, seemingly endless high note proved to be the tipping point that transformed the Cap Metro tent into church for real.
After that, it was all gravy. The old Gullah gospel song “Traveling Shoes,” with its sirening steel guitar, elicited a rapturous response, as did “Ocean of Tears” and an extended vamp built around one of her signature covers, “Walk On.” Her voice alternating between falsetto and a low gospel moan. Her pleasing natural register and infectious enthusiasm made Foster an ideal preacher on a day when everyone could use a little balm of Gilead … or at least a nice cold beer.
Arcade Fire already flaming at just 2 years old
Win Butler, Régine Chassagne, Richard Parry, Tim Kingsbury, and Win’s younger brother William formed the Arcade Fire in 2003 in Montreal. In 2004, they released the album “Funeral” on respected U.S. indie label Merge. By the end of the year, it was a sleeper smash, moving more than 100,000 units so far.
Earlier this year, they sold out Emo’s. Friday night, they sold out Stubb’s. Sunday, the played in front of tens of thousands on the headliner-worthy Cingular stage at ACL fest. Not too shabby for a band that just turned 2.
All nine of them (the core five plus a few hired guns) marched onto the stage carrying red flags, dressed in their customary black suits and dresses, as if they were on their way to, well, a funeral. But their detailed, kitchen-sink music is anything but depressive. It’s a powerful, anthemic wall of organ melody, bass, drums, guitar, dueling violins, French horn and accordian. They opened with the wailing “Wake Up,” all howling the melody into whatever microphone was in front of them. “Somethin’/filled up/my heart/with nothin’” singer Win Butler sang in a slightly melodramatic voice straight out of the British New Wave, a thrift shop Robert Smith.”Someone/told me/not to cry.”
On “Neighborhood #2 (Laika)” the band switched off instruments, which continued throughout the set, while Chassagne took the mike from her husband, Win, for the moving “Haiti.” They juggled instruments, they hurled joyful melodies at the crowd, they raged against melancholia while acknowledging its power, they looked impeccable doing it. Let’s hear it for Canada.
A sweaty embrace for the Kaiser Chiefs
“Oh my God, I can’t believe it/I’ve never been this far away from home,” chanted the crowd during the Kaiser Chiefs most involving song, “Oh My God.”
The truth was, unless there was an entourage from China, few were as far away from home as lead singer Ricky Wilson and his four British blokes from Leeds. In a scorching 105 degrees (Fahrenheit not Celsius, sorry Wilson), no wonder they feel far from home.
In a puddle of onstage sweat, the Chiefs punched out some of their catchiest tunes from “Employment.” Despite any heat exhaustion, the schizophrenic punk-pop wasn’t about to let you stand still. From “I Predict a Riot” to “Modern Way,” Wilson and his skinny counterparts proved that they were more than just a reminder of The Clash.
Drummer Nick Hodgson spurted out a dance-inducing rhythm. Guitarist Andrew White fired his guitar in an unpredictable riot. Wilson graced the crowd with his up-close presence and climbed the light tower for a mere wail during “God.” Though Hot Hot Heat might have been a more appropriate name for the act, and it’s almost impossible to follow last night’s Britpop gambits, Bloc Party, the enthusiasm of the Kaiser Chiefs destined to be embraced by ACL, if sweatily.
Burning up the stage
After an introduction from Austin City Limits producer Terry Likona, who declared Sunday “the hottest day of the year,” Rilo Kiley took the massive SBC stage at what felt like hottest moment of the day.
Rilo Kiley lead singer/chanteuse/crush-worthy frontwoman Jenny Lewis is an interesting combination of things. At its base, her persona is that of the plucky indie gal with the alto of gold. But she’s also a former child actress — remember her in “Troop Beverly Hills” — who has a bit of Hollywood about her. She’s also a songwriter unafraid of classic rock tropes straight out of the Springsteen playbook.
And then there’s her torch singer persona. She strolled across the stage like it was a smoky nightclub — hard to pull off at a festival — during the other-woman anthem “Does He Love You?” Come on, Jenny, any child of L.A. knows not to mess with a married man.
She brings all these things to bear when they play live. In the blazing heat of the SBC stage, Lewis and company ran through a hour’s worth of these contradictions. She started on organ for the countryish “I Never” and “Pull Me in Tighter” with its Springsteen-like horns and twin guitar harmonies that Thin Lizzy would either be proud of or demand back. She strapped on a guitar for the hamfisted political song “It’s a Hit” (“Any chimp can play human for a day/Use his opposable thumbs to iron his uniform and run for office on Election Day/fancy himself a real decision maker/and deploy more troops than salt in a shaker”) and the compelling “Love and War.”
The fanning drone of M83
Drones are beautiful things. They can envelop you, hypnotize you and lull you into deep listening and deeper concentration. But drones can also become mighty oppressive, which is what happened during M83’s often powerful, often maddening set.
The French electronica band lost founding member Nicholas Fromageau in 2003, leaving Anthony Gonzalez the sole remaining founder. He’s taken the band in a distinctly more “rock” direction, with a guitar set on “blast,” muscular drumming and, yes, massive drones.
Opening with the expansive “Moonchild,” Gonzalez, looking mighty French in his sport shirt and jeans, leaned on his keyboard while the full-on rock band blazed behind him.
But in the 103 degree heat — which he sure wasn’t dressed for; does it even get that hot in France? — M83’s king-sized drones amplified and seemed to enhance the soul-melting temps. Wave after wave the mostly instrumental songs came, heavier and heavier as the set wore on. In a club, it might have been magnificent (it was sort of sad when the lights flashed in what was supposed to be a dramatic display; the sun simply drowned them). Some seemed to love it. But for some of us, the drones just made the day seem that much hotter.
Backstage bliss, on-field blisters
A wise man once wrote that heaven is merely backstage at hell. Where conditions at Zilker Park were brutally hot and dusty for fans, who crowded aboard the precious few feet of shade like shipwrecked passengers on a raft and tied neckerchieves over their faces like kids playing stagecoach robbers, the accomodations for artists were relaxing and luxurious. The Artists Lounge, where bartenders seemingly on loan from Hooters served free drinks until late in the night, was a hub of hangout.
John Bell of Widespread Panic said one of the best things about his band’s first appearance at the ACL Fest was the way artists were able to interact and see the other performers onstage. “In other festivals you’re stuck in your dressing room all day,” he said Saturday. ACL’s fenced concourse and fleet of golf carts and trams allowed the acts to see whomever they wanted during down time
The schmoozing also had good results for fans, especially when Robert Randolph joined Panic on Saturday night for an utterly scorching version of Robert Johnson’s “Stop Breaking Down.” The two acts had worked out the jam earlier in the day. It was so good that, even though I could hear Oasis going into “My Generation” from my spot in the midpoint between the two main stages, I opted to chase after Randolph’s searing pedal steel.
The most-frequently-asked question of the weekend had to be why CSE would schedule another festival in September after last year’s broilathon. The fest doesn’t want to compete with Texas-OU on the second Saturday of October or any home football games, when hotel rooms are snapped up by Texas exes. Still, organizers had the option to host the event Sept. 30-Oct. 2.
