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Austin City Limits Festival 2003

From Al to Ben and All the Bands in Between

The second annual Austin City Limits Music Festival was, if anything, an even bigger success than its predecessor. The Statesman's crack staff of music critics was on hand all three days. Here are the highlights of what they saw.

Friday

Photo by Jay Janner, AAS

Steve Winwood, Capital Metro Stage, 7 p.m.

Steve Winwood at ACL? Admittedly a bit of a head-scratcher.

But what can you say about a guy who first came to prominence as a skinny Englishman who could sing like Ray Charles? Whatever your feelings about his use of his gift at times -- "Higher Love," anyone? -- it still counts for something, doesn't it?

Actually, some reports have suggested that the golden throat is starting to show signs of tarnish, but it certainly sounded fine Friday. Winwood and his band instantly grabbed an already pumped crowd (for Steve Winwood?) with an inspired version of the organ rock classic "I'm a Man" and remained in peak form through a set that drew from across his career. Older tracks such as Traffic's "Pearly Queen" swelled to extravagant, psychedelic heights. And VH1-lite fare such as "Back in the High Life Again," which evolved into a lengthy, tropical jam with Winwood on mandolin, was impressive.

The natural closer, the Spencer Davis Group's "Gimme Some Lovin'," sent the audience away on a high, but it was the torrid, show-stopping rendition of Traffic's epic signature tune, "Mr. Fantasy," that left me scratching my head yet again. Had I really just been rocked by Steve Winwood?
-- Jeremy Egner

Photo by Larry Kolvoord, AAS

Dwight Yoakam, Cingular Stage, 8:45 p.m.

You could almost hear several thousand hearts sink as one when Dwight Yoakam, the foremost honky-tonk revivalist of our time, walked out onto the Austin City Limits Festival stage with . . . a banjo player?

Scary. But, as Yoakam explained from the stage (and he was in an unusually ebullient mood), multi-instrumentalist Keith Gaddis and he teamed up for a week's worth of acoustic-based dates, which evolved into a 45-city tour. After opening with "The Power of Love," Yoakam and Gaddis were joined by an acoustic bassist and a drummer behind a small trap set. The ensemble even spent some time sitting down, which seemed to please Yoakam's female fan contingent none at all.

Still, the stripped-down approach worked well enough to charm the masses out there in the dark. Indulging in what he called "an eclectic romp" over the past 18 or so years of his prolific career, Yoakam essayed everything from his own debut of "Guitars and Cadillacs" to a mountain string band cover of Cheap Trick's "I Want You to Want Me." And, of course, there was a tip of the Stetson to the late Johnny Cash: a reverent version of "Ring of Fire."
-- John T. Davis

Photo by Jay Janner, AAS

Al Green, Capital Metro Stage, 8:45 p.m.

He strides on stage in a spotless white suit and gold chain. His band is large: guitar, bass, drums, horns, keyboard, dancers, the works. A fog machine is going. They look ready to burn. They look at their leader in his white suit as he surveys the massive crowd, cheering as he's introduced. "We have a legend in the house tonight," the announcer says.

At 9 p.m. on the Capital Metro stage, the Rev. Al Green turned to his band, said, "Let's go to work," and in front of thousands of tired ACL attendees, proved just why he is a legend with an explosive set that was just getting started when he had to leave at 10 p.m.

Opening with "Let's Get Married," closing with a thunderously groovy "Love and Happiness" (what a bassline!), parking a brilliant reading of "Amazing Grace," a few more hits, and plenty of preaching in between ("Texas, God kept us here for the good times!" ), Green rocked harder than any act that day. Though some complained that he spent too much time leading the crowd in singalongs, his voice hasn't lost a note, his dancing hasn't lost a step and his band sounded like it could vamp on the Lord's word all night long. "Don't let nobody fool you (and) tell you the Rev. Al Green retired," he shouted near the end of the set. Let's hope he can bring that groove back next year, and maybe we can give him a few more hours to let us come down and get saved. -- Joe Gross

Saturday

Photo by Larry Kolvoord, AAS

Johnny Cash tribute, Cingular Stage, 3 p.m.

When the word came down that Rosanne Cash had canceled her ACL gig after her father died, word quickly spread that the slot would be filled by a tribute to the great man. Saturday afternoon, word proved true.

Hosted by Ray Benson of Asleep at the Wheel, Austin country's toastmaster general, the set opened with the award-winning video to Johnny Cash's remarkable cover of Nine Inch Nails' "Hurt," projected onto the Cingular stage screen. The images of days gone by, juxtaposed with footage of Cash as he looked last year, were all the more powerful for their massive size.

Things didn't let up when the live music started. Benson and up-and-coming belter Tift Merritt glided through a strong version of "I Still Miss Someone" that set the tribute's casual vibe. Then Merritt announced she would pay tribute to Cash by "honoring his daughter" with a lovely cover of Rosanne's "Seven Year Ache."

The ringleaders of the recent Southern rock revival showed up to pay tribute as well. At the start of his band's set, Drive-By Truckers' frontman Patterson Hood talked about envisioning June Carter Cash and Johnny sitting down to have dinner in heaven. Then guitarist Jason Isbell provided his own version of celestial music: a moving version of "I Walk The Line" that was marked by his plaintive vocals. Guitarist Mike Cooley followed with a deft reading of "Give My Love to Rose" and then Memphis' North Mississippi Allstars played acoustic versions of "Home of the Blues" and "Big River."

Dallas' Old 97's (pictured) all but stole the show with "Let the Train Blow the Whistle," a song they covered on an early 7-inch single, and "Ring of Fire," which brought everyone back on stage for the tribute's most heartfelt moment.

"ACL" producer Terry Lickona introduced the final part of the tribute -- Johnny Cash's 1987 appearance on "Austin City Limits" shown on the stage's monitor -- by decrying "the plastic pop that passes for country" these days. About five minutes after the screening started, it began to rain. Which was somehow totally appropriate.
-- Joe Gross

Photo by Larry Kolvoord, AAS

Los Lobos, Capital Metro Stage, 3 p.m.

A light drizzle didn't scare many Los Lobos fans away from the festival's largest stage Saturday afternoon, where the band dipped deep into its 20-year-old back catalog for a ruggedly enjoyable set. Getting into gear on "Don't Worry Baby," singer/guitarist Cesar Rosas belted out the chorus with a fire that belied his customary deadpan stance. The unflappable David Hidalgo followed a little later with "The Neighborhood," and listeners who had never seen the band may have wondered how such body-shaking music can be made by men who rarely move a muscle. Easy: The band knows its business so well that showmanship is superfluous. From the baritone sax riffs doubled with electric guitar to the explosive percussion on "Mas Y Mas," they reminded the crowd that the word "jam" didn't always mean "bloated and self-indulgent." Cumbias and other Spanish-language numbers peppered the performance, but the group put an Appalachian spin on "One Time One Night" by inviting Nickel Creek fiddler Sara Watkins to sit in. The rain returned, but only as the band began the second song of their encore; predictably, Rosas and Hidalgo seemed unfazed.
-- John DeFore

Photo by Larry Kolvoord, AAS

Robert Randolph, Capital Metro Stage, 5 p.m.

Sensational pedal steel guitarist Robert Randolph didn't need a radio DJ to introduce him. Saturday afternoon at Zilker Park, it would have been more fitting for the New Jersey flash to be preceded by flight attendants, pointing out what to do when the cabin pressure gets to be too much. Randolph and his Family Band took off like a jet airliner on "Going In the Right Direction" and the audience didn't touch down for an hour.

Randolph, who stole the show at last year's inaugural ACL Fest, isn't afraid to share the stage. In the course of a mere hour, he called up Cody and Luther Dickinson from the North Mississippi Allstars to play "The March" and then traded solos with Jeff "Skunk" Baxter of the Doobie Brothers, who looked genuinely surprised when his name was called, to jam for 20 minutes on Led Zeppelin's "Trampled Under Foot," which segued into "Purple Haze," which morphed into "Voodoo Chile."

Wearing a Sammy Sosa jersey, the 26-year-old Randolph, who played his first concert just over three years ago, solidified his reputation as the most exciting young guitarist on the scene, with his slicing, soaring licks. He was raised in the House of God Church, a Pentecostal sect where the steel guitar is a sacrament used to whip congregants into a frenzy; seeing him apply the same mindset to a festival crowd was a thing of wonder. When Randolph and his hard-hitting band ended with the Sly Stone-ish "I Need For Love," they passed the mic through the crowd, the strained townie vocals adding to the communal groove. Randolph in Austin in September: A tradition is born!
-- Michael Corcoran

Caf� Tacuba, Heineken Stage, 8 p.m.

The crowd waiting for Mexico City's Caf� Tacuba may not have been the festival's largest, but they packed an enthusiasm per square foot that rivaled even the Al Green showcase. From shouting the pre-show announcer offstage to chanting lyrics and cheering at singer �lfego Buend�a's Spanish-only stage banter, they acted as if no other acts had been booked at the fest. Which was fair enough: Tacuba played like a half-dozen bands thrown in a blender and set on "hyper." Their set borrowed from funk and hip-hop, flirted with metal, disco and even Tejano, but rocked hard throughout, allowing a brief interlude for the more introspective "Eres." Buend�a, a Prince-sized man with a mop of curls and a powder-blue, eyeball-covered suit coat, was a dream frontman -- strutting, jerking and jumping his way through songs, leading his bandmates in a line-dance disco routine, and eventually donning a homemade Lucha Libre-style mask. That's saying nothing about his voice, a subversive whine that demanded constant attention. Instrumentally, there may have been nothing stranger onstage than the keyboard blow-toy known as a hooter, but the group's manic arrangements and delivery made the show seem completely weird and fresh. When Buend�a lamented that the festival had scheduled them to play a mere 45 minutes, the crowd howled indignantly; but even if they bought a day pass for this set alone, fans got their money's worth.
-- John DeFore

Sunday

Photo by Larry Kolvoord, AAS

G. Love & Special Sauce, Capital Metro Stage, 2:30 p.m.

A favorite at last year's ACL festival, the perpetually chilled out G. Love & Special Sauce brought their loose and funky backporch blooze to the Capital Metro Stage Sunday afternoon.

G. Love (born Garrett Dutton) came out with alt-pop singer-songwriter Jack Johnson, and the pair kicked things off with a couple of pleasant acoustic strummers. It was after Johnson left, however, that the set really took off. Early audio problems -- the thick bass drowned out pretty much everything -- were solved before they became too much of a distraction, but there isn't much that could obscure G. Love. So many singer-songwriter types have copped Dutton's hip-hop-flavored, Anglo-scat style, it's easy to forget how fresh it can sound. A master showman, he dazzled on fire-breathing harmonica and guitar solos, and prowled the stage flaunting a flair for freestyle rhyming when he wasn't playing. One minute "Baby's Got Sauce," a slow, swinging tune "to the ladies," seemed to calm things down, the next, G. Love was scraping his guitar against his amp and using the mic as a slide for a feedback-drenched solo.

Of course there can be too much of a good thing. The dreaded solo montage, which came complete with a Frampton-esque vocoder interlude, tested all but the most dedicated groovers (yo G., we only have an hour), but the still-irresistible "Cold Beverages" redeemed.

The band closed with a country-fried ode to the feminine form. There's not much I can say about its vulgar charms other than to note that when it began, as if on cue, a sky ad for the Yellow Rose Cabaret came zooming into view. ACL: Feel the magic.
-- Jeremy Egner

Photo by Jay Janner, AAS

Jack Johnson, Cingular Stage, 4:30 p.m.

Jack Johnson's ACL show was a whole lot like Austin: laid-back, ethnically and culturally diverse, left-of-center but not confrontational about it -- and way too crowded. When the dreamy surfer-turned-songster crooned, "Slow down, people, you're moving too fast," he must not have been paying attention to the unnavigable sea of fans before him, made up of everyone from coffeehouse-ers to Kappas to couples with kids.

Sandwiched on the schedule between Ben Harper and G. Love & Special Sauce, Johnson split the difference between them musically as well, breezing through a dozen of his characteristically innocuous roots-pop delights. G. Love himself even dropped by to collaborate on a low-key rendition of his own "Stepping Stone" (an appropriate choice, since it was GL&SS's recording of the Johnson-penned "Rodeo Clowns" that got Jack noticed in the first place). It was a lovely, love-filled affair: The guys smiled, the girls swooned, and the couples, well, did what couples do.

In fact, the only hitch in the show came at the very end, when Johnson left the stage five minutes ahead of schedule -- before an audience who knew he was five minutes ahead of schedule -- just so they'd bring him back out again.

A premeditated encore? Jack, Jack, Jack -- that's so not Austin.
-- Josh Eells

Ween, Capital Metro Stage, 6:30 p.m.

Ween's Sunday set was as close to a predictable show that the quirky band from New Hope, Pa., is capable of playing -- unless you count a ridiculously loud bass mix as far-out. Opening with "Buckingham Green" from their neglected masterpiece "The Mollusk," Gene and Dean Ween hit on all the crowd faves, from "Spinal Meningitis" to "Voodoo Lady" to "Can't Put My Finger On It," without really stirring the crowd. What most people don't know about Ween is that they want to be arena rock stars -- and given the forum, in front of what looked to be at least 20,000 fans, they played up the obvious. But it's certain that the Saturday crowd at Stubb's got the real Ween experience.

Oh, but this group has a secret weapon, a song whose three word title can't be printed, though the first word is "You" and the last one is "Up." It's a rocker as hard as any, with blunt sentiments that would make die-hard punk rockers go "whoa." The band's hour was saved by this forceful finale and, for five minutes, the band became the rock stars and the audience reinforced that dream.
-- Michael Corcoran

Photo by Larry Kolvoord, AAS

Ben Harper, Cingular Stage, 6:30 p.m.

Ben Harper, like Elvis and Chris Carrabba, is one of those musicians who inspire a following bordering on messianic. As a result, his faithful treat him the same way a high school teacher treats the smart kid: He doesn't always have to be perfect, he just has to not mess up.

On Sunday night, Ben Harper did not mess up. He mixed old favorites like "Excuse Me Mr." and the requisite encore "Steal My Kisses" with newer favorites-to-be like "Diamonds on the Inside." He let his Innocent Criminals run wild, stretching the first four songs into 40 sweaty, jam-filled minutes. He brought out sacred steel guitarist Robert Randolph, one of the darlings of this year's festival, for a pas de deux on "Temporary Remedy." He served up an impassioned medley of "Sexual Healing" and "Let's Get It On" that was so steamy even Marvin might have blushed. And he did it all with a vivacity that blew even the clouds away (all, that is, except for the herbal-scented one that settled over the crowd during "Burn One Down").

Harper didn't need to be perfect. But he wasn't too far off.
-- Josh Eells

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