Lollapalooza 2008, Day Two: or, Let’s Give This Mess Some Grace

After Radiohead, the walk back from Grant Park was long and crowded, and despite being somewhat of a straight shot (and a route I had walked that morning), I was pretty lost on my way back to my friend’s apartment. I eventually decided I had walked far enough, and took the first cab I saw back home (apparently I was only one or two blocks from the street I should’ve turned on).

For Saturday I resolved to have a slightly more relaxed experience; basically, I didn’t want to kill myself waiting for a band like I did for Radiohead. So Day 2 was a lot less stressful, and a little cooler, too. (Note: All photos came from Lollapalooza photographers!)

Who’d I see on Day 2? The first act of the day was The Foals, a group of British math-punkers. These guys made Bloc Party look like complete over-the-hill wankers — Foals were all herky-jerky guitars, frantic yelps and precise, powerful drums. I’m a huge sucker for precise, intricately syncopated rhythms across a band, and I immediately dug it. I have to run to Music Town to purchase/order a copy of their album, Antidotes.

After Foals was MGMT, and I wasn’t very into it because 1) I’m not that big of a fan, they’re a little too jammy for my taste; and 2) The sound was kind of terrible, and Booka Shade’s* set the next stage over was so loud it was overpowering MGMT’s dreamy guitars. I wasn’t really impressed, although “Electric Feel” sounded pretty good. This is the first time I encountered the difference between seeing a big show up close and seeing it from the afar — the energy is notably different, and some things don’t sound so great from 100 yards away.

After MGMT, I slowly made my way across the park to see a band I’ve been dying to see since their stupidly awesome record, The Stage Names, lit up my speakers: Okkervil River. Stage Names alternates the top spot for my favorite record in the past year or so (the others are In Rainbows, Islands’ Arm’s Way, and I can’t get enough of The National’s Alligator – that record never gets old) and I couldn’t wait to see them in action.

They didn’t disappoint. I’m now convinced Okkervil frontman Will Scheff (left) is a literary genius. He’s both playwright and leading man — penning incredibly dense and visual lyrics that range from playful to harrowing (sometimes in the same song) and delivering them with urgency and not a little drama. You know you’ve written something good when the drummer mouths every single word you’re singing. My favorite Stage Names tracks (um, basically all of them, I guess) were well-represented, the best being “Plus Ones” (one of my favorite songs of the past five years, easily), “John Allyn Smith Sails,” “Unless it’s Kicks,” and “Our Life is Not a Movie (Or Maybe).” And hearing an entire crowd (which was a little on the small side — both a good and bad thing, really) sing “tonight I thirst for real blood” was bone-chillingly sweet.

Some kids started shuffling out early to nab prime spots for Broken Social Scene, who was performing at the Bud Light main stage on the same side of the park. Okkervil closed with “Westfall,” and the stage was then rushed by kids angling for sticks, picks, and setlists. I had moved closer as people left early, and one of the roadies crumpled a setlist and practically tossed it right at me. My reflexes kicked in and I snatched it (one of the only times I’ve ever been in the right place at the right time). Free one-of-a-kind Lolla memorabilia!

Broken Social Scene was next, and I didn’t bother trying to make it to the front. A JumboTron glimpse at Leslie Feist or Emily Haines would have been enough for me (I’m, uh, big fans of their … music). Alas, neither showed. Brendan Canning was there, though, as was Kevin Drew. They did a good mix of old and new BSS stuff but they also indulged in some condescending, Canadians-are-better-than-thou political speechifying, which was slightly annoying. It was a good set, but my expectations were raised so high by Okkervil River that not even BSS — or Wilco, for that matter — could top them.

But Wilco put on a great show, if not a little too similar to the one I just saw in Austin a few months ago. The guys took the stage in matching embroidered suits (Jeff Tweedy to audience: “We’ve been sewing.” Later: “Did anybody see Radiohead last night? They were really good. But I don’t think they’ve been sewing.”) I love that Wilco’s comfortable enough to have a sense of humor about themselves. They looked like the Grand Ole Opry Power Rangers.

This is the third time I’ve seen them, and I should take a break until they get some new material. They did toss out a new work-in-progress, called “One Wing” — video below. I really, really like it so far. It’s got some really awesome Jeff Tweedy lyrics (“You were a blessing and I was a curse / I did my best not to make things worse / For you”) and lots of moody instrumental stuff. It feels closer to the stuff Yankee Hotel Foxtrot than Sky Blue Sky, which is a good thing.

Since I saw Wilco, that means I didn’t see the much-hyped reunion of Rage Against the Machine. I have a few reasons why I didn’t go: 1) Despite the fact that I used to really like RATM, I feel like I’ve kind of outgrown them — all that aggression doesn’t do much for me now that I’m not an angry fifteen year old; 2) I find it funny that a band so bent on anti-government and anti-corporate sentiment would have no problems playing the AT&T main stage at an AT&T sponsored festival (Radiohead has similar beliefs, but they had the foresight to at least take down the two large AT&T banners flanking the stage); 3) Nels Cline (above) is probably the best guitarist I’ve ever seen, and anybody who says Tom Morello is the best hasn’t hear Nels rock “Impossible Germany;” and 4) I just really like Wilco. And not getting my ribs crushed or bones broken.

*I was later admonished for not going to Booka Shade by a few people, and it got me thinking about the unusually high number of DJs and other electronic artists playing slots that would typically be given to rock bands. The Perry stage was virtually all DJs, and Girl Talk had a pretty prime Sunday slot. It’s a telling reminder of how DJs have become rock stars accepted by the mainstream. Thank Justice for that. (Or Moby?I don’t know.)