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Saturday, September 15, 2007
ACL: Bob Dylan at Stubb’s
It’s not that Bob Dylan is the voice of a generation. Lots of people are voices of their generation. (President Bush is as much as President Clinton.)
It’s when you can be a voice for a couple of generations — that’s when the story gets interesting. That’s why folks feel compelled to compare Dylan to Yeats or Picasso, Bergman or Basho — the dude holds up. He’s been the most creative man in popular culture (’65-’66, duh), he’s been truly awful (hello, “Down in the Groove”) but 40 years on, 20-year-olds are finding things in his work that speak to them. That said, the crowd at Dylan’s seriously soldout Stubb’s show Saturday night were closer to AARP status than high school age.
Coming off 20 days rest and sans opening act, Dylan’s craggy voice took a song to find purchase. Since that song was “Leopard-Skin Pill-Box Hat,” nobody really minded. (Smart move, Bob.)
Of course Dylan’s band is stellar, but a word must be said about Denny Freeman, who may very well enter the pantheon of great Dylan guitarists along with Mike Bloomfield, Robbie Robertson and Mark Knopfler. (G.E. Smith, we’ll never forget you.) Freeman’s solos are perfect for the reinvigorated-yet-senior Dylan — lyrical without being corny, nuanced without sounding fussy. No wonder Dylan let him solo after nearly every verse of every song.
It was a night of serious song rethinks, per Dylan tradition. “It Ain’t Me Babe” turned from a demand into a plea. “On the Horizon” featured a signature, gestural Dylan harmonica solo. “The Levee’s Gonna Break” became a high-octane rocker with Dylan on organ and plenty of spiky Freeman. “Summer Days” became a long swingy blues.
Dylan doesn’t really have a jammy, anything-goes guitar epic in the live set, at least not this one — No “Sister Ray,” no “Dark Star,” no “Marquee Moon.” Instead, he has “Tangled Up in Blue,” one of his most mutable songs. Perhaps reflecting its multi-angled narrative, Dylan has approached this song more ways, rebooted it more times, than perhaps any other in his catalog. It starts as a low key drone before building to a strange, swinging epic. A masterpiece every time it’s played.
For those who find Dylan’s current voice exhausting or simply too gnarly, I’d point them to “Ballad of a Thin Man,” which has transformed from a snide kiss-off to a lecture from the Devil. This is Dylan the nasty, veteran con man; no wonder he’s dressing like Roman Grant from “Big Love.”
And then “All Along the Watchtower” lets everyone pretend to be Hendrix. Thank you, good night!
The Set List
Bob Dylan (Sept. 15, 2007, Stubb’s)
Leopard-Skin Pill-Box Hat
It Ain’t Me Babe
Watching the River Flow
You’re A Big Girl Now
The Levee’s Gonna Break
Spirit on the Water
Cry Awhile
Tangled Up in Blue
Workingman’s Blues #2
Honest With Me
Beyond the Horizon
Most Likely You Go Your Way And I’ll Go Mine
Nettie Moore
Summer Days
Ballad of a Thin Man
Thunder on the Mountain
All Along The Watchtower
(Dylan closes the Austin City Limits Music Festival at 8:30 p.m. Sunday on the AT&T Stage. Look for our review of that show here and in Monday’s American-Statesman.)
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ACL: Muse review
As Meg White was resting somewhere far, far away from the dust and allergens of Zilker Park, nursing her anxiety (we hope), English modern rock band Muse was holding its own in the Saturday evening headlining spot that the White Stripes dropped out of just days ago.
Beginning their 8:30 p.m., AT&T stage performance with melodic feedback and waves of white noise squall, Muse — vocalist/guitarist/pianist Matthew Bellamy, bassist/vocalist Chris Wolstenholme and drummer Dominic Howard — wasted no time winning new fans and making the crowd forget that the White Stripes were a no-show.
The band played fantastically spot-on versions of their rock radio friendly hits from the 2006 album, “Black Holes and Revelations,” as well as a healthy sampling from their entire four-album discography. Bellamy’s guitar and piano virtuosity provided some of the most entertaining moments of this year’s ACL Fest. He seamlessly switched between shredding his guitar with tone that would make 1960s guitar legends green with envy to playing a grand piano on stage left like only a classically trained musician can. All the while Wolstenholm and Howard were holding down the low end with equal skill and proficiency.
And there was no doubt that the audience was satiated. I witnessed one young woman doing the centipede to Muse’s prog-rock-meets-metal-meets-alternative rock anthem, “Knights Of Cydonia.” People don’t do the centipede on worn down, beer-soaked grass unless the music is very inspirational.
The band also played a devastatingly cool version of “Map of the Problematique,” displaying their penchant for creating epic music that is grandiose in scale without being pretentious.
Muse’s set included several of the coolest stage moments of ACL 2007 witnessed thus far: best use of the video screens, coolest drum riser (it was more than six feet tall) and the best use of time absent from the stage before an encore. The band re-emerged after they played an archival John F. Kennedy speech about freedom and government that uses secrets to spread tyranny; the moment drew as much applause as the music. It was one of the only politically potent polemic deviations during this year’s fest.
The band lost a bit of momentum about midway through their set with a couple of arty ballads. But they pulled everyone right back in with their radio hit, “Starlight.” During the melodically thunderous song, a woman who appeared to be in her late 50s danced ecstatically as if she were a teenager again. Witnessing simple moments of unadulterated musical bliss — like that one woman feeling so free — makes all the dust, odd smells, allergens and claustrophobia-inducing crowds feel worth the trouble.
(Photo by Lauren Winterfeld FOR AUSTIN360)
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ACL: Arcade Fire review
“Arcade!” chanted half the crowd, while the other half added “Fi-ya!” It’s hard to imagine a band better suited to headline a night at ACL then Montreal’s majestic, rhythmic collective Arcade Fire. With six enormous neon pipe cleaners dividing the 10 or 11 players onstage (it’s hard to get an accurate count because there were so many arms flailing all at once), the band was gloriously hypnotic at times, but just as biting, as on the bleak song dedicated to “Governor George Bush.”
Singer Win Butler’s sprawling songs drew wild syncopation, especially from keyboardist Richard Parry, who crashed a cymbal, a motorcycle helmet, whatever he could smack around, when he was overcome by the rolling beat. Multi-instrumentalist Regine Chassagne was a focal point onstage, often acting out lyrics (a tad pretentious) as were the two violinists, so deep in musical communication.
This tribal avant garde group was so into it that it was as if White Stripes were on the other end of the park and the Canadians had something to prove. After each herky jerky symphony, the emotionally, physically spent band would take about a minute to decompress.
Even though the volume level could’ve been stronger, A. Fire was powerful, whether they were doing their pounding Eno bit art rock on “Neighborhood #2 (Laika)” or bringing Appalachia to Arcadia on the infectious “Keep the Car Running” from the new, second album “Neon Bible.” Three young women next to me were having a near-religious experience during that latter number. They represented the committed element of the crowd. Just as many seemed to be merely curious; it was strange to see so many folks filing out during “Neighborhood 3- Power Out” at the one hour point of what could be the best set anyone plays at ACL this weekend.
But it had been a long and hot day and it was time to go home. Power out.
Arcade! Fi-ya! Arcade! Fi-ya! The chants went on for several minutes after the too-short 80-minute set.
(Photo by Jay Janner AMERICAN-STATESMAN)
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ACL: Wikipedia conversation of the night
Girl One: “You can’t get your ribs removed! Can you? Wouldn’t that, like, hurt your body.”
Guy One: (confidently): “Yeah, you can. Marilyn Manson did it.”
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ACL scene: Flags and armadillos, bikes and boys
On the whole, the locator flags at ACL are less elaborate than the ones seen at the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival. But one group that’s a veteran of both festivals turned up for Cajun band BeauSoleil’s rollicking set at the WaMu stage with a pole topped with a metal armadillo sculpture bedecked with Mardi Gras beads. The armadillo wore a rubboard painted with the years of Jazzfests attended. Multi-colored metallic ribbons fluttered and a variety of objects dangled, including a voodoo doll and fake butterfly. Runner-up: the pole fluttering with multi-colored feather boas, one supporting a blinking blue light.
A bicycle is certainly a pleasant way to get to and from Zilker Park for ACL — even if finding a parking place for it mid-afternoon Friday was like finding a spot for your car at the mall the week before Christmas. Then try finding it again at the end of the night, when it’s dark away from the once-crowded bike racks and you’re only sort of sure which distant railing you hastily locked it to seven hours earlier.
But riding home after the last show was a delicious way to cool off and wind down, and instead of trudging along in the shuttle line, I was spinning through the neighborhood behind Zilker — until I was flagged down by a couple teenage boys, asking me for directions. They weren’t lost, however.
“We live here,” one said. “We’re trying to tell these girls how to get here.”
“Where are they?”
“Barton Springs.”
I started trying to explain the route I’d taken, but one of the boys jammed his cell phone in my hand and said: “You talk to them.”
I started asking exactly where they were on Barton Springs, but the girl interrupted and said with exasperation: “We KNOW how to get there.”
I handed the phone back, and the boys thanked me. As I rode off, one of them called after me again, so earnestly: “Thank you, ma’am,” apparently suddenly realizing that maybe I’d been heading somewhere.
I hope the girls turned up.
(Photo by David Weaver FOR AMERICAN-STATESMAN)
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ACL: Aterciopelados
It was a good thing Colombia’s Aterciopelados played last on the WaMu stage Saturday. Almost any act that followed them would have had a hard time equaling their rapturous reception. Also, singer-guitarist Andrea Echeverri was able to cajole the crew into letting the band play past the scheduled end of the set, gratifying fans yelling “Otra! Otra!” (“Encore! Encore!”) so loudly the tent seemed like a soccer stadium.
Judging from the shouts whenever Echeverri said “Bogota,” and the fervor of singalongs to older tunes, the crowd included plenty of fellow Colombians who’d been following the band since Echeverri formed it with bassist-producer Hector Buitrago in 1993. But you didn’t have to understand a syllable of Spanish to enjoy Aterciopelados’ joyous rock infused with everything from reggae to traditional vallenato. The group’s versatile percussionist doubled on a variety of Colombian flutes, and even something that looked like a toy keyboard crossed with a hookah and emitted a piping sound.
Echeverri is a wonderful singer, with a satiny alto and refreshingly unadorned style. She’s also a natural-born rock star, even though her manner is unassuming, and her imposing cheekbones and severe eyebrows give her an austere look — until she smiles. Mostly, she was all smiles, even when introducing songs with a serious message, such as “Don Dinero” (“Mr. Money”), a deceptively ebullient number from the new “Oye.” “We all like money,” Echeverri said, “But it’s terrible. Dangerous.” “Cancion Protesta” (“Protest Song”) turned anger into positive energy.
Playing an acoustic guitar plastered with metallic speakers that gleamed in the spotlights, like the gold spangled heart decorating her aqua tunic, Echeverri beguiled the crowd with natural charisma, her most casual gesture starting a wave of clapping or singing or pogo-ing. She smooched the microphone and beamed at the crowd’s response to “Luz Azul,” with its fluid guitar lines. The band’s punk-injected hit “Bolero Falaz” had most of the crowd singing lustily in Spanish. It would have been a perfect set-closer, but its momentum just got the band and crowd jazzed for those precious 10 extra minutes.
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ACL: Ocote Soul Sounds
The WaMu tent is typically a place to try to cool off, but Ocote Soul Sounds turned the place into a steam bath Saturday afternoon, and nobody seemed to mind. Bodies wriggled and swayed ecstatically in front of the stage, and the hypnotic grooves even got the chair people up on their feet.
Ocote, an offshoot of Austin’s Grupo Fantasma and Brooklyn’s Antibalas led by Adrian Quesada (Grupo) and Martin Perna (Antibalas), brings funk and Latin elements together with the trance-inducing polyrhythms of afrobeat. The inspiration of the late Nigerian legend Fela Kuti goes beyond the propulsive undertow in the nine-piece ensemble’s long jams. As in Kuti’s songs, the circular melodic themes are often conveyed by the horn section. When Ocote deployed its combination of two baritone saxes and trumpet, the percussive yet sinuous horn lines were as compelling as any vocal trio.
When Perna switched from bari to flute, a more sultry, Latin vibe prevailed, but even the chillest numbers set the dancers in motion. The set was heavy on instrumentals, such as “Look Sharp,” which featured especially tasty guitar from Quesada and kept subtly raising the rhythmic ante. But “Pescador,” a Columbian song from the sophomore album “The Alchemist Manifesto,” due in 2008, featured group vocals, as did the closing “Machete.”
Perna, showing an affinity for another side of Kuti, introduced “Machete” as a cry for change — to eradicate the “weeds of Republicanism … the weeds of gentrification.” The burning number had fans dancing with even greater fervor, and right in the middle of the crowd a few break dancers let loose, one guy somehow finding enough space to gyrate on head and hands, legs waving in the air to the beat.
With Perna and one contingent based on the East Coast, Ocote Soul Sounds has made few appearances in Austin. It seriously needs to become a more regular attraction — and if someone could put together a mini-festival with Ocote, Antibalas, Grupo Fantasma and Grupo offshoot Brownout, that would be well worth the price of a single-day ACL ticket.
(Photo by Jay Janner AMERICAN-STATESMAN)
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ACL: Dancing in the streets
You don’t have to be booked at the festival to make an impact. The Rattletree Marimba and Lannaya had dozens of fest-goers dancing on Barton Springs Road both Friday and Saturday nights. Look for a big turnout when the impressively melodic collective plays Friday, Sept. 28, at the Copa, 217 Congress Ave.
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ACL: Houston’s Blue October
Just so you know in advance, this is gonna be a rave review. Yes, we hard-bitten critic types pride ourselves on our flinty independence. Ordinarily, that is. But in the case of Blue October’s crowd-pleasing (what’d I tell ya?) set at the AMD stage on Saturday afternoon, this particular hard-bitten critic was being fed song titles and other bits of vital ephemera by the mom and dad of brothers Justin (guitar and vocals) and Jeremy (drums) Furstenfeld.
If you think I’m gonna dis a couple of hard-working kids in front of their doting folks, well, let’s just say my name isn’t Michael Corcoran.
In any event, bragging on Blue October isn’t much of a stretch. Since they emerged on the scene from Houston in 1995, the brothers and their three compatriots have established themselves over the course of five albums as a live attraction to contend with.
Justin Furstenfeld, in particular, is a born front man. Watching him stalk the edge of the stage during the charmingly titled “Drilled A Wire Through My Cheeks,” it was evident he was a magnetic presence. His performances of “Let it Go,” “Calling You” and the insanely catchy “Into the Ocean” were equally compelling.
Ryan Delahoussaye also deserves particular mention, as he filled in with aplomb on fiddle, mandolin and keyboards — sometimes simultaneously.
If the band’s lyrics are not infrequently dark, their music and performance brims with energy and a contagious enjoyment that it is almost impossible for performers to feign.
“X Amount of Words,” with its trippy loops and effects, the whiplash overdrive of “Chameleon Boy” the breakout hit (and set finale) “Hate Me” helped round out the set.
Mr. And Mrs. Furstenfeld, let’s just say your boys (and their mates onstage) done good.
(Photo by Brian K. Diggs AMERICAN-STATESMAN)
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ACL: The Arcade Fire and Muse scene
Sometimes even the privileged have to stand in ridiculously long and unmoving lines. Twenty minutes before Arcade Fire took the AMD stage, more than 200 VIP/artists/all-access wristband wearers waited to get onto the stage viewing area (capacity: 50). — Michael Corcoran
Meanwhile, Matthew Odam reports from the Arcade Fire/Muse showdown:
8:40 p.m.: A much bigger exodus leaving from headliner Muse than there was last night for Bjork. Especially quite a few of the Indigo Girls holdover fans from the previous set at the adjacent stage. Muse, with its lights and video screen, are certainly putting on a headlining worthy show.
8:54 p.m.: Odd: They are driving their fans wild, yet until a few months ago I had never heard of them. It reminds me of ’90s rock played through 21st century instruments, if that makes any sense.
9 p.m.: Who wins when the White Stripes back out? The Arcade Fire, who are losing very few fans to the gates or Muse.
9:04 p.m.: I don’t know if Muse is much bigger than I thought or if it was the printed schedule having Stripes on it or if some people still don’t have the Internet, but the crowd is much bigger and more exacitable at Muse. Maybe it is Radiohead and I just don’t recognize it.
9:14 p.m.: Thousands pouring out from both shows. Slightly more than usual, in my opinion.
(Photo by Jay Janner AMERICAN-STATESMAN)
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ACL: Clap Your Hands Say Yeah
Much has been made of how indie posterboys and DIY darlings Clap Your Hands Say Yeah are faced with the challenge of transcending the bubble of buzz that lofted their debut album into the stratosphere two years ago. Their new album, “Some Loud Thunder,” is a determined riposte to all those half-whispered questions about whether there was life beyond the blog.
But less has been written about how much unalloyed fun these five guys from the Right Coast are to watch onstage. Bolting onstage, they flung themselves into their set (via “Heavy Metal”) with a punkish intensity and a bracing enthusiasm.
I’ll grant you that frontman Alec Ounsworth’s adenoidal whine (reminiscent of David Byrne — yes, he’s heard it before) isn’t an immediately acquired taste, but it becomes part of the sonic landscape within a few songs. In any event, since he writes all the lyrics, composes nearly all the music and co-produces the new album, he isn’t exactly dispensable.
Splitting the difference between their two discs, the band moved with efficient dispatch through “Foreign Land,” “Satan Said Dance” (the first big crowd-pleaser) and “Over and Over Again (Lost and Found).” Dance beats and washes of trancelike synthesizer competed with punching-bag drums and emphatic guitar to yield a mixed pallet of sound. There were some jarring juxtapositions: “Over and Over Again,” which is nothing if not a pretty little melodic machine, clashed glaringly with the dirgelike, forboding “Yankee Go Home.”
The band ended the way they began, with a punchy, upbeat 21st century honky-tonk track with the unfortunate moniker “Upon This Tidal Wave of Young Blood.” Even Cole Porter would have a hard time making that title sing, but CYHSY seemed happy just to leave ‘em dancing.
(Photo by Jay Janner AMERICAN-STATESMAN)
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ACL: A taste of Cross Canadian Ragweed
In the first couple years of ACL, collegiate country acts were a booking staple. This year, Cross Canadian Ragweed had to hold down the curve ballcap set almost by themselves. Their set Saturday at the Austin Ventures Stage was barely different than when they play in the clubs, which worked well on the country rockers but didn’t serve Jeremy Plato’s sensitive vocals on “Soul Agent.” The band played some songs from their upcoming “Mission California” album out Oct. 2.
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ACL: Decemberists after-party at Maggie Mae’s?
We’ve heard rumors on the street that the Paste Magazine party tonight at Maggie Mae’s might include an appearance by the Decemberists sometime between 11 p.m. and midnight. If you have any inside information or make it to the show we’d love to hear from you. Leave your tips and/or reports in the comments below.
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ACL: Strangers united in sports
All sorts of dudes are walking around the festival asking each other college football scores. LSU, Texas, Michigan, Arkansas, Nebraska, Southern Cal. guys are on hand-held devices following football scores and the MLB pennant race. Kinda funny but also interesting to hear the opiate of the masses, sports, unite in conversation so many strangers.
Also, some people are still whining and wondering how the fest did not book a huge act in place of the Stripes.
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ACL: Out & About in the field
“Sure it was hot,” said Sarah Banks from Seattle. “But I just got back from Granada, Spain, where it got up 122. I tell you, the air-conditioned toliet (in the VIP area) is a godsend.”
“They are tightening up on sneaking in,” said Jackson Davis, a graduate of Anderson High School, “but it’s still possible with the buddy system and a loose wristband.” (Editor’s note: Davis paid for his ticket!)
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ACL: From the inside
Quiet(er). Cool(er). Old(er).
Wearing a bit more fabric.
Otherwise, the festers hanging in the artists village and the VIP compound differ almost not at all from the uncredentialed masses out on the Zilker fields. We hear this changes later in the evening as the free booze interacts with dehydration and exhaustion, but at 7:30 p.m., the mood is mellow unto somnambulant. The only excitement rattles around the Tito’s vodka tent.
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ACL: Scene of Steele
One of the most pleasant surprises Saturday was the totally rocking set from hit Nashville songwriter Jeffrey Steele. Although he’s known for writing hits for Rascal Flatts (“What Hurts the Most”), Tim McGraw (“The Cowboy in Me”) and Montgomery Gentry (“Gone”), Steele ended his set with “Swamp Thing,” which sounded more like Led Zeppelin than anything resembling mainstream country music. The crowd loved it.
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ACL: Andrew Bird
Sometimes you get thrown in the deep end. I had never seen Andrew Bird before catching his set Saturday afternoon at the AT&T Blue Room stage, but what I learned about him beforehand sounded intriguing: a sparkplug of the ’90s swing boomlet as part of the Squirrel Nut Zippers-turned-experimental music wunderkind. Songs with titles like “Yawny at the Apocalypse” and “A Nervous Tic Motion of the Head To the Left.” Ten albums, give or take, including his latest, “Armchair Apocrypha.” And, intriguingly, whistling apparently figured heavily in his musical repertoire.
Well, the guy can dadgum sure whistle—a piercing, pure, multi-tonal wonder of a whistle that can carry the weight of a string section or a saxophone.
As for the rest, Bird and his two bandmates are unquestionably versatile and mecurial, able to turn on a musical dime (one of the musicians doubled on keyboards and drums, sometimes simultaneously). Bird himself is adept on violin, guitar and even xylaphone (what is it with xylaphones at this year’s ACL?!).
But I could never find a way to ground myself inside Bird’s music. One song, “Simple X,” featured abrupt and seemingly arbitrary changes in tone, tempo and key. Another, the aforementioned “Nervous Tic,” featured a flurry of lyrics that seemed to skate across the icy surface of the melody. Bird’s often cryptic or downbeat lyrics, sung in a voice eerily reminiscent of David Byrne, seemed daunting, although audience members swayed along happily to the beat.
Other critics have described Bird and his music as “opaque,” “off-kilter pop” and “inscrutable,’ so perhaps I’m in good company.
But so were the fans that flocked (sorry, couldn’t resist) to Bird’s performance. Their appreciation of Bird’s superior musicianship seemed to make questions of accessibility suddenly irrelevant.
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ACL: the football report
One of the biggest cheers of the day out at Zilker Park was heard when the Longhorns finally pulled ahead of pesky University of Central Florida. The noise from the AT&T Oasis sounded like a headliner taking the stage. More than 150 people were waiting in line to get inside to watch the game on the big screen. But if you were a Texas Ex, you could go right in through a separate entrance - the Exes were having a private game-watching party. Which shows that music isn’t the only entertainment with a velvet rope system.
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ACL: Cold War Kids
Fullerton, Calif.’s Cold War Kids — lead vocalist/guitarist Nathan Willett, guitarist/vocalist Jonnie Russell, bassist Matt Maust and drummer Matt Aveiro — have been touring behind “Robbers and Cowards,” one of the most hyped-up albums of anyone playing at ACL 2007. Unfortunately the band’s 3:30 p.m. AT&T Blue Room stage performance suffered from a sound mix that emphasized vocals, drums, and absolutely nothing else.
As the band began its first song, the audience had swelled to at least 30,000 strong. The hottest part of the day had arrived and you could just smell the skin cancer cells cooking under everyone’s beads of sweat. By the time the band played their final notes, the audience had shrunk to half that size.
But it wasn’t because of Cold War Kids lack of verve or performance acumen, because they definitely had their act together. The songs were tight and creatively spun. And the band was comfortable working the big stage; you would never know that only a year ago they were playing small indie rock clubs.
The reason the Cold War Kids’ set didn’t translate to the audience as well as it should have came down to two things that could have been controlled: the heat and the sound mix.
Today’s heat reignited the argument for pushing the festival back to October or November. Shoot while we’re thinking out loud, why not hold it in December when Austin still has plenty of sun.
Now to the sound: The Cold War Kids’ performance was hindered by a lack of vocal compression. Good sound people use rack mountable vocal compressors to squash the super high volumes in the mix and to likewise increase the levels of quiet vocal deliveries. The sound person for the Cold War Kids appeared to have a tin ear because their mix was absolutely awful: all vocals, drums and piano. Further, the band’s lead vocalist could definitely take a lesson in dynamics from the same place he copped many of his other influences (Jeff Buckley, Radiohead). Willet’s voice was all bombast; his literary lyrics held less sway without the flashes of subtlety found on the band’s albums.
The band’s two singles — “Hang Me Up To Dry” and “We Used To Vacation” — and all of their other swampy, blues-infected, Southern rock sounding songs could have been so strong. Sadly, the band’s 60-minute set was mostly shaped by just six unfortunate words: time for a new sound person.
(Photo by Jay Janner AMERICAN-STATESMAN)
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Second fire was at Bjork show
As some have posted in our comments, the second fire that broke out during day one of ACL was during Bjork’s set. Statesman photographer Deborah Cannon was up close to the stage and saw the speaker fire, which was quickly put out by staff.
Much of the audience didn’t even realize what had happened, thinking Bjork had left the stage and returned for an encore. No one was injured. Read V. M. Black’s review here.
(Photo by Jay Janner AMERICAN-STATESMAN)
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ACL: Dax Riggs
I have a confession to make: I have a bit of a man-crush on Andy Macleod’s drumming. I wanna gay-marry the way that dude improves every band he plays with. Currently the touring drummer for Dax Riggs, I’ve seen him with obscure New York rockers Endless Boogie and with more-famous-but-more-musically-obscure guitar thinker Neil Hagerty (late of Royal Trux). And, oh, yeah, he also does time as the touring bassist for Modest Mouse. The man works hard.
You might remember Dax Riggs from the band Deadboy and the Elephantmen (or his metal band Acid Bath). While the two-person version of Dax Riggs has all sorts of fans, I’ve never seen them, so I can’t say whether Macleod improved them, frankly. But like any good rock band, 75 percent of a blues band is swing and pulse. Now, there’s not a lot subtle about Macleod’s bash and pop, at least not with Riggs, but he knows where the pocket is and he can explode out of it at will, a bit like Keith Moon, but more bald.
Riggs’ main asset is his voice, the sort of growl that passes for soulful to indie kids used to terrible singers. This isn’t a knock; Riggs’ voice is a tough and vigorous instrument, his guitar playing the sort of earthy, bluesy raunch that ACL fans just love. “Demon Tied to a Chair in My Brain” sounds both musically and lyrically like Roky Erickson (as if you couldn’t tell from the title) while “Radiation Blues” was dedicated (in a negative manner, that is) to the current administration. If bluesy guitar grime equaled votes, the administration is right to be worried.
(Photo by Jay Janner AMERICAN-STATESMAN)
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ACL: M.I.A.
American hip hop, United Kingdom electro, Jamaican dancehall, grime, Ragga and Brazilian baile funk were all blended into her DJ’s sampling soup, creating a music so unique that it had people dancing before they even realized their bodies were moving. And if the sound mix had been better, it’s very possible that the festival organizers might have shut down her performance based on its sheer explicit revolutionary nature and capacity to cause a riot.
With a phenomenal DJ that was cutting up polyrhythmic records like a razor on butter, M.I.A. raced through nearly a dozen songs that spoke of revolution, sexual liberation, female empowerment and cultural freedom.
When she vamped up her track “20 Dollars,” the samples of gun blasts echoed the polemic racing from her mouth. I’m gonna have to give you a little taste for you to fully understand how this young woman was obliterating the mic:
“With your feet in the air and your head on the ground/Try this trick and spin it, yeah/Your head’ll collapse if there’s nothing in it/And you’ll ask yourself, ‘Where is my mind?’/War war war/Who made me like this/Was it me and God in co-production/My devil’s on speed dial/Every time I take the wrong direction,” she sprayed with a high-pitched hiss in her upper vocal register.
Now, keep in mind this was just one verse of one song from her set — and every song was equally as venomous. I had never heard M.I.A. before this year’s ACL Fest. Now I’m a fan for life.
Toward the end of her set, the audience’s collective consciousness took over and about 100 people crossed the proscenium and joined M.I.A. on stage for a straight-up dance party. The beefy security guys were scrambling to make sense of the moment as M.I.A. encouraged the spontaneity. You didn’t know if someone was going to get hurt while everyone was having so much fun. The audience’s dancing was filled with lust and sweaty sexual tension. M.I.A. and her backup singer knowingly winked at each other as the stage literally rocked. The moment was filled with danger and barely controlled chaos. And it was utterly beautiful.
(M.I.A. will be back in Austin for a show Nov. 3 at Hogg Memorial Auditorium. Tickets, which are $25, go on sale at 10 a.m. Friday, Sept. 21. Details here.)
(Photo by Brian K. Diggs AMERICAN-STATESMAN)
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ACL: Young Love
At 12:50 p.m. on the dot, Young Love - a.k.a. Austin’s favorite emo son Dan Keyes - performed his new band’s dance music for an enthusiastic 2000-plus audience in what felt like 2000-degree heat.
(Now I’ve got to come clean with you right off the bat: I’m a Dan Keyes fan. My old noise-pop band Schatzi used to play shows with Keyes’ old post-hardcore rock band Recover in indie rock clubs all around the country. We’re bros’. But that said - here comes the straight dope.)
Keyes’ front man charisma and reluctant-yet-assured star power had the teenage girls pressed in tight at the front of the stage. His revolving member band’s current incarnation included Recover’s rock solid bassist Ross Tweedy and guitarist Robert Mann. Although the songs and genre are still fresh for the players in Young Love, they possessed a cocksure quickstep in their delivery of tracks from their 2007 debut “Too Young to Fight It” that only cats that have played together for years — since childhood actually — possess.
And for a band that should’ve been playing at night under a disco ball and strobing colored lights, Young Love pulled off their no-man’s land, afternoon time slot very well.
Unfortunately either “the party” or “the road” had taken its toll on Keyes’ voice; during Young Love’s money-shot single “Discotech” his voice was breaking up in parts of the chorus.
Keyes rocked a beautiful black and gold Fender Strat during “Underneath the Night Sky,” peppering the verses with a staccato lead that was infectious. Although he spent the majority of the set working the stage from end to end, unemcumbered by the guitar, enticing the audience to cut loose and have fun.
Young Love’s set closed with “Find A New Way” which you might have heard on MTV or any number of television show soundtracks. Keyes’ pop craft and songwriting sensibilities were spot-on. And apparently much of the audience approved, because instead of seeking shelter from the heat, they stood right in the middle of Zilker Park at the Austin Ventures stage and danced their little kooky dances. And accordingly when Keyes dropped out his vocals during the songs climactic bridge, the audience members that knew the words sang right on cue.
(Photo by Brian K. Diggs AMERICAN-STATEMAN)
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ACL: Raul Malo
Raul Malo’s mid-afternoon set on the Dell stage Saturday started out as slow and sticky as Cuban molasses. Well, it made sense, in a way — it was way too hot to mambo. Aided by Austin’s own Ephraim Owens on trumpet, Malo and his band seemed to feel their way through “Every Little Thing About You” and a dreamy, twangy pop take on the Ray Price chestnut, “My Shoes Keep Walking Back To You.”
Malo and company finally seemed to lock into gear with their third number, a silky pop take on “Cold, Cold Heart” that was as delightfully revisionist—though in a wholly different way — as Norah Jones’ take on the same tune.
Moving steadily into tropical latitudes, Malo unlimbered his big voice for “Dance the Night Away,” “Besame Mucho” (the former a nod to his old bandmates in the Mavericks) and a long, steamy number called, appropriately, “Sway.” In the course of things, Malo transformed his personal corner of Zilker Park into an al fresco supper club.
Saving the best for last, Malo concluded his set with a nod to last year’s headliner with a cover of Van Morrison’s “Bright Side of the Road.” The upbeat, big-hearted tune, which Malo covered on his “Acoustic Nashville Sessions” album a couple of years back, perfectly suits Malo’s sunny persona and his swinging arrangement sent the crowd off in a buoyant mood.
(Photo by Brian K. Diggs AMERICAN-STATESMAN)
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ACL: Dr. Dog
- Video: Dr. Dog live at ACL Fest
Philadelphia’s Dr. Dog, a late addition to the reshuffled Saturday schedule, primed the early arrivals at the AT&T stage with a stimulating set that spun a wide variety of styles into an idiosyncratic roots-rock blender.
None of the five-piece band’s songs followed a straight trajectory. Just when keyboardist Zach Miller seemed to be channeling the Band, bassist Toby Leaman, guitarist Scott McMicken and guitarist Andrew Jones started harmonizing like late-period Beach Boys, while the rhythm section continued to pack a serious wallop. Funk-rock morphed into Squeeze-y pop into Bowie-esque space-rock and ended with a head-banging crunch. A Cheap Trick-y a cappella chorus led into a big rock finish. R&B balladry, funk-rock, Primus-like weirdness, Cracker-crisp quirkiness, boogie, blues and jazzy dissonance all swirled into the mix.
“My Old Ways,” which set many hips to twitching, turned hard rock into bouncy bubble-gum pop without ever going to sweet, and wound up slamming again. “The Girl” started out with a metallic blast but went all late-Beatle-esque, then sweetened into a lush, ELO-like chorus with layered vocals. (No wonder Beck got a notion to do a remix of this one.)
Despite the dizzying array of genres, none of the songs sounded cobbled together or forced. Unlike many jam bands, Dr. Dog has the level of musicianship to sustain its improvisatory leanings. Jones’ solos arose organically from the tunes and were notable for their melodic logic and succinctness. The riff he played on “Worst Trip” could have turned into a song in its own right.
Dr. Dog could easily get by on instrumental prowess alone, but McMicken and Leaman are also fine lead vocalists. McMicken has a more supple, R&B/pop voice, Leaman a more gravelly rock sound, and with Jones chiming in, three-part harmonies were the splendid icing on the cake.
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ACL: Austin’s Sound Team
Pre-announced last shows can be dangerously self-conscious affairs. A band says “this is it, folks” and suddenly the band members think they need to go out with a bang. The performances might be fine, but there can be an ugly air of showbiz around the whole thing, with multiple guest stars and a self-important vibe (“The Last Waltz,” I’m looking at you).
Sound Team, who stated last week their Saturday show on the AMD stage would be their final performance, managed to avoid this entirely by simply playing the best set they could. They’ve probably played better at other times, they’ve certainly played worse, but this was the last blast and they went out with the straightforward dignity of rocking out. (As it were.)
Their look was certainly haphazard. Singer/guitarist Matt Oliver looked patrician (yet sweaty) in a seersucker jacket, bassist Bill Baird was decked out in an orange jumpsuit, and everyone else rocked the jeans and T-shirt look. “You guys are crazy for standing in this,” Oliver said to the crowd (presumably meaning the heat, not their music). Well, this is your last show, dude. Everyone loves a victory lap.
In between Oliver mugging for the video cameras with his guitar, the band leaned on the mid-tempo rockers, various combination of guitar and keys driving their platonic indie-rock. “No More Birthdays” seemed to get the most love from the crowd, but it was the massive “TV Torso” that we’re clearly going to miss. A two-chord vamp blown out into a jam reminiscent of ’70s Krautrockers such as Can, this was as powerful as the band gets — big noise, big rhythms, big finish. Then it was over. “Good bye, bye, bye,” Oliver said. Now, as Bono once said, time to dream it all up again.
(Photo by Jay Janner AMERICAN-STATESMAN)
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Saturday at ACL
It’s definitely hotter out there today. Don’t do what the lead singer of Dr. Dog did and wear a knit cap, which he admitted was a bad idea.
UPDATE: We hear from the field that it’s getting breezier, which helps.
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Notes from the A.C.
The action has been surprisingly tame in the artists compound. But the bartenders, who work as long as there are folks who want to drink (closing at midnight Friday) say the real craziness begins Sunday night. “It’s gonna be sick” said one ‘tender. What happens Sunday night is that all the ACL staffers, who’ve been on their best behavior for three long days, can finally cut loose. Their party starts when Bob Dylan says “thank you, Austin, good night.”
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Secret aftershow
If you miss Raul Malo’s set at the festival this afternoon (he is, after all, up against UT football) you’ll have another chance tonight at 11:30 p.m. Malo’s playing an unannounced set at the Continental Club’s upstairs room.
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ACL: The Steps
- SoundCheck: Listen to The Steps
What a way to kick off Saturday at ACL! The BMI stage is usually the domain of singer songwriters, but Austin’s great teen hopes, the Steps, rocked like they were headlining Wembley Stadium. Guitarist/ singer Will Thompson displayed a Roger Daltrey-worthy screech on “Carousel” and his cousin Sam Thompson threw out serpentine leads on slow builder “Velvet Prison” and “Miss High Heels,” but it was the rhythm section of Z Lynch on drums and bassist Stephen Ross that gave the Steps their strong footing. Good name, great drummer — they’re ahead of the game even before you consider their sturdy songwriting. One thing young bands are saddled with is that critics are prone to spending the set trying to figure out who they sound like. But even limited with the standard guitar/guitar/bass/drums lineup, the Steps are truly original. OK, set-closer “Cold Floor” was a rip of “Loose” by the Stooges, but if you’re gonna steal, it helps to have good taste. This was a filler-free 30 minute set that throbbed on pure passion and the audience- many of whom mouthed the words- really soaked it up. A cool breeze blew across Zilker when the band opened with “Belle.” A refreshing start to a day that promises to be even hotter than yesterday.
(Photo by Jay Janner AMERICAN-STATESMAN)
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May the force be with them
ACL Fest artist liason Darcie Fromholz got chills at 11 a.m. Saturday, just like she does every morning of ACL. The theme from “Star Wars,” which organizers blast when the gates open, does it to her every time. “You stand on that stage (AT&T) and hear that great symphonic sound as the people come in and start running across the park, and you just think, ‘OK, here comes another one. Get ready.’” The leaders of Charlie Company (better known as C3 Presents) are big “Star Wars” fans, being of that age when the George Lucas film had impact on so many kids. C3 meetings are presided over by a plastic Yoda and when you call C3, the “on hold” music is a disco version of the “Star Wars” theme.
(Photo by Jay Janner AMERICAN-STATESMAN)
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