My Bird Performs

So, my Lollapalooza pictures are a week late, and my Vetiver review is pushing 10 days. Sue me. While you're doing that, check out these long-awaited shots from last Friday's opening day.


Arriving at Lollapalooza this year was an adventure in and of itself. I was staying out in the suburbs, and decided to take the El into the city as a means of avoiding the twin hassles of traffic and parking. This tactic was marginally successful, but also fraught with peril. The trip to the station alone took me through a wild, and accidental, side trip through O'Hare. Once I finally got settled on the train itself, I realized that, in addition to being mapless, I had no idea where I was going once the trip was over. Then, the wandering began. To make a long story short, I didn't get to Grant Park until around 2pm, so Eels was the first act I caught.


E. and his boys rocked out. Hard. For a while, I wasn't even sure I was watching the correct band, but then "I Like Birds" kicked in and I knew I was in the right place. During the set, Krazy Al here did his best to support the rock by looking like a lankier version of Zangief and busting out some sweet martial arts moves.


My travelmates were still subjecting themselves to Panic! At The Disco (a move that we all later agreed was the wrong one), so I moseyed over to check out Stars by myself. XRT's own Marty Lennartz handled their introduction.


The very nature of the summer festival setup tends to favor some types of bands while putting others at a decided disadvantage. Stars fell squarely in the latter category. Much like other bloggers noted last week, the lack of intimacy, coupled with the ADD pace of an eight-stage show, really robbed Stars' music of its power. Then again, have the terms "Canadian chamber pop" and "August afternoon" ever really gone hand in hand?


If you can't read it, lead singer Torquil Campbell's shirt says "I Miss Grant McLennan". I want.


Our neighbors to the north.


During Stars, Krystiana and Alex finally emerged from the other side of the park. A little older and scores wiser, we spent some time dissing Panic! and catching up on old times before heading over to Ryan Adams' set.


Aaaaaaand here's the day's first lull. I'm not terribly familiar with Ryan Adams' work, and his set at Lollapalooza did little to convince me that I should remedy the situation. Then again, I might've just resented the trifecta of heat, mud, and crappy position that was bearing down on me at the time. It doesn't matter. I snapped this surprisingly cool shot of the video screen before setting off in search of greener pastures.


My search for a better set led me to Mates of State. They played one of the side stages, which, in this particular case, was located strategically between the Virgin Megastore tent and half of the food vendors. The crowd was surprisingly substantial, and came prepared to swing.


I was both amazed and heartened by the number of people who actually sung along to the majority of the set. Somehow, I just didn't expect that kind of devotion from your average Lollapalooza attendee.


This is Kori Gardner's profile. This is also the closest I ever got to actually seeing her face during the performance.


Much like last year, Lollapalooza featured a multitude of text message-based scavenger hunts/flashmob contests. However, this year, organizers packed even more interactivity into the eccentric (and potentially lucrative) diversions. One contest had concertgoers collect special passwords from 50 different clowns (like these two) that would roam around the park. I'm not sure exactly what kind of prize was up for grabs, but people seemed keen on the idea of "catching them all", if you will.


After grabbing a late lunch, I stopped by the Q101 stage just in time to get knocked on my ass by a proverbial fist of sound known only as the Secret Machines. These guys were loud. Like, bowel-shaking loud. For a while, I felt like I was in a Maxell ad.


The Ranconteurs were preparing to go on next door, so I did what any sensible music fan would do: eschewed the crowds to catch a good spot for Jim James and My morning Jacket. Along the way, I caught the tail end of Iron and Wine's set, which, if my ears didn't deceive me, complimented the slow-simmering heat perfectly. In the lone picture I took, Sam Beam looks like a billboard advertisement for the crucifixion. I don't think that's terrible far off the mark.


This girl had a hula hoop. That's pretty much it.


My Morning Jacket was the perfect band to help usher in sunset over Grant Park. I spent most of their show on my back, examining the now-cloudless sky, but I sat up long enough to get this shot. For some reason, it reminds me of the cover of "Frampton Comes Alive!". Anybody else?


Watching Sleater-Kinney reminded me of reading The Grapes of Wrath for 11th-grade English; in both cases, I knew the material was supposed to be staggeringly important, but I simply couldn't make any kind of emotional or intellectual connection with it. Still, I guess history's history. I just hope the Violent Femmes had an off night. Otherwise, I'll have two reasons to be disappointed.


My lack of enthusiams was definitely the minority opinion in the crowd that night. Most of the people around me looked like they transcended simple fandom; for most, this was less about music and more about a way of life. Many of those in attendance didn't have wristbands, meaning that they were one-day ticket holders. I'll give you one guess about who they came to see.


While My Morning Jacket was still playing, I thought I was going to have a riot on my hands. Starting at the beginning of "One Big Holiday", rumbles of discontent went through the crowd gathered for Sleater-Kinney. If Jim James played one more song, most reasoned, drastic action would have to be taken. Pitchfork and fire drastic. So, at then end of the song, James acquiesed... for about two seconds. Then, he launched into the longest, jammiest version of "Mahgeetah" you've ever heard. Ignoring my rapidly declining sense of safety, I wooed anyway.


Braaaaaaaaains....


Before Death Cab For Cutie took the stage to close things out for the night, I snuck over to the Mindfield stage for a DJ set with Mark Palgy and Craig Pfunder of Louisville's own VHS or Beta. You've never seen so many awkward, sweaty white kids flail in unison to "Funky Town".


Two wizards.


By the time I got back to the land of the living for Death Cab's set, darkness had fallen and decent seating was in short supply. Instead of fighting my way through sorority girls for a decent spot, I plopped onto the grass, set my head skyward, and let some nostalgia wash over me. No matter how much I front, it's always going to be true: Death Cab For Cutie are one of my favorite bands. Ever. And there is nothing wrong with that. The skyline seemed beautiful on my way out, so I took this picture. Then, it was off to Union Station with Krystiana and Alex, and home to a strange house, a strange bed, and the best night's sleep I'd had in weeks.

Saturday should be up late tonight, assuming I can stay awake. Expect Sunday tomorrow or later, and Vetiver shortly thereafter. Then, and only then, will things get back to normal.

Posted by Tyler on Friday, August 11, 2006 at 5:47 PM | Permalink