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Sunday, 08.10.08
 Virgin Fest 2008 by Jurick |
The Go! Team opened Sunday's lineup. Their mash up of late '70s TV show anthems accompanied by two guitars, a bass and either one or two drum kits made for an extremely rich (and loud) sonic experience. The bass was too high in the mix, overshadowing some of the group's musical texture, but for the most part their sunny, energetic aesthetic shone through. Lead singer Ninja wore an aerobic outfit and busted out retro dance moves with reckless abandon. She leaped in the air for a scissor kick during "Grip Like A Vice," and beckoned the crowd with call-and-responses. "Where my ladies at? Where my fellas at?" Love them or hate them, The Go! Team is quite unlike any other group on the indie scene, and I observed more than a few looks of giddy discover - "Who are these guys!?!" - in the modest Sunday afternoon crowd.
I stayed put at the South Stage for Andrew Bird. As he emerged wearing a crisp blue linen utility shirt and aviator sunglasses, I soon realized he's as meticulous with his fashion as he is with his compositions. Bird opened with "Fiery Crash," a standout track from Armchair Apocrypha. "To save all our lives, you've got to envision the fiery crash," he sang, one of his characteristically obscure but mysteriously potent lyrics. "A Nervous Tic Motion Of The Head To The Left" displayed all of Bird's formidable musical talents. Playing the violin, he alternated between standard techniques, pizzicato (plucking) and simply strumming the instrument like a guitar. In a typical flourish, he raised his bow in the air and whistled a short coda to the melody. Throughout his performance, he toyed with time-changes, falling behind and then catching up to his band again. Closer "Fake Palindromes" was far and away the highlight of the set. As if he'd been hoarding creative energy throughout the set, he launched into "Palindromes" with a burst of fervor absent from the rest of his performance.
 Lil Wayne by Pusey |
Following Bird on the South Stage was She & Him, a pairing of M. Ward and actress Zooey Deschanel. The duo drew an outsized crowd for their modest stature, perhaps due to Deschanel's celebrity. "Why Do You Let Me Stay Here" was an up-tempo standout, with Deschanel recounting the sentiments of an unused play-doll of some sort. "This Is Not A Test" was a simple and well-executed country number. But Deschanel's country twang felt a little contrived throughout the performance, and her stilted stage demeanor did little to liven up the afternoon.
And then there was Lil Wayne. While every other performer during the weekend arrived onstage within 15 minutes of their scheduled slot, Lil Wayne arrived an hour late, pushing back performances for the rest of the day. This is understandable, of course, when you consider the fact that his entourage needed sufficient time for a pre-concert victory lap, which they performed with leisurely style. Just as the "boos" were reaching a fever pitch, Weezy himself appeared onstage to thunderous applause from one of the biggest audiences of the festival. Opening his set with "Full Clip" ("I'm the shit and they just poop stains"), Weezy continued the performance in proper narcissistic form. I'm not a veteran of hip-hop concerts, so I'm not sure if rapping over one's own record is standard fare or simply laziness on the part of Lil Wayne. He closed his set with "Mrs. Officer," a tongue-in-cheek tale of romance between a criminal and a cop. "This is dedicated to all the police officers out there!" he barked.
 Iggy Pop by Pusey |
I left halfway through Lil Wayne's set to catch Iggy and The Stooges, a far more rewarding performance. Iggy appeared in incredibly good shape for a 61-year-old, muscular and energetic as he waded as close to the crowd as the stage barrier would allow. "I Wanna Be Your Dog" was as debauched as ever, and Iggy belted out more than a few vicious groans as sweat covered his chest. "Real Cool Time" found Iggy writhing onstage in a mixture of agony and ecstasy. "This is fucking music time!" he screamed at one point.
Soon enough, however, I found myself facing another unfortunate scheduling crunch, and headed back to the South Stage for The Black Keys. A duo from Akron, Ohio, The Black Keys have released album after album of visceral, rowdy blues-rock. Their latest, a collaboration with Danger Mouse, marked a slight stylistic departure but retained the Keys' signature aesthetic. Guitarist Dan Auerbach appeared in jeans and a denim jacket, the cool and collected rocker of the duo. Starting with "Girl Is On My Mind," drummer Pat Carney pounded away with a red face and flailing arms. "Thickfreakness" featured a particularly vicious guitar solo from Auerbach, and the two complemented each other perfectly on "Busted," with Auerbach finishing the song with double-time chords. After six or seven songs, Auerbach announced their set was nearing an end. "You can thank Lil Wayne for that one," he said, to a mixture of laughter and boos from the crowd. After a few more songs, the duo closed with "I Got Mine," a standout track from their most recent album, Attack & Release. Carney dinged away on a cowbell for a bit of percussive detail, but the song was most notable for Auerbach's almost evil sounding vocals.
 Scott Weiland - Stone Temple Pilots by Pusey |
I could have darted off after the set to catch a few minutes of the Stone Temple Pilots, but that would have meant sacrificing my third-row spot just as Bob Dylan was slated to appear. A price too high, I decided, and stayed put. Dylan kept the audience waiting 15 minutes or so, but that's only fitting. The man is one of the most enigmatic figures in rock history. He simply doesn't show up on time. Dylan eventually strode out, fashionably late, in a black suit, lariat and a Stetson hat. Word has it that Dylan's arthritis prevents him from playing guitar live, and so Sunday's performance found him once again behind the keyboard. Dylan's performances over the last twenty years have featured radically different versions of his most notable songs. This is understandable; Dylan's songs are so ubiquitous that the standard versions would lose their potency when played live. Yet on Sunday, I'm afraid, each song was characterized by the same warm, spry tone; well executed but unremarkable. Songs that should sound nothing alike - "Rainy Day Women #12 & 35" and "Highway 61 Revisited," for example - sounded disappointingly similar. "Spirit On The Water" was true to its original sound, but perhaps only because it's swaggering pace fit into Dylan's preferred average for the night. Yet, it wasn't all bad. Dylan's voice still punctures the listener to the core. Though now, instead of the mid-60s nasal (but beautiful) rasp, it's all gravel and dust, smoked-out and raw. It's an agonizing but amazing thing to hear. I stood in awe if only to hear that well-worn groan communicate through its texture.
 Virgin Fest 2008 by Jurick |
As Dylan's set came to a close, I once again made the trek back to the North Stage for the first of the evening's headliners, Nine Inch Nails. "1,000,000" was an electronic-infused and angst-ridden lament: "I don't feel anything at all," Trent Reznor cried. But the show's lights were nearly as remarkable as the music. Powerful beams shot down from above in pairs - reds and whites, blues and greens, and the occasional explosion of orange flames or even pure white. Under certain lights, one could only make out Reznor's silhouette against the blue and black lights behind him. It all added a powerful visual dimension to the performance.
The final headliner Sunday was the one I'd been waiting for, if only out of childish curiosity. I'd read about Kanye West's marvelously narcissistic live performances, and though I rarely listen to his music, I couldn't help but find myself drawn back to the South Stage as his set time neared. And I must say, Kanye did not disappoint. Blue and white lights illuminated a screen of smoke out of which his back-up band emerged - wearing imitation Daft Punk masks, no less. After a brief instrumental, Kanye strode out and launched straight into "Good Morning." The eerily harmonious background vocals gave the song a dark vibe, and Kanye stood alone onstage as his back-up musicians receded into the fog. Throughout the set, edgier percussion added a livelier texture than West's recorded work, and Kanye, though no doubt attempting to remain cool, gave the performance a Herculean effort. By the time "Diamonds From Sierra Leone" rolled around, West was sweating profusely, kneeling on the stage to belt out lyrics with his eyes closed. Kanye West is no doubt a self-absorbed narcissist, but he's a talented narcissist, as Sunday evening proved.
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