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Should we talk about the weather? — nice and cool last year when REM headlined, a scorching 100 and humid three days in a row this time around. I haven’t been that sweaty since two-a-day football practices 20 years ago. I felt bad for the poor Austinites who sheepishly apologized for the hottest weekend of the summer.
But enough about the heat, here’s some of the musical highlights (and lowlights):
Day 1 we caught the end of Slip, a band from Rhode Island, whose members went to the same high school as Kate. Unfortunately, they weren’t very memorable, but it’s hard to say if we were fully acclimated to the brutal conditions — I was more concerned about hiding my belly paunch under a soaked t-shirt than dying of heat stroke.
Next on the docket was Sloan, a Canadian outfit who played straight-ahead rock/pop. Lots of power chords and great voices — everyone took a turn singing lead. As an added bonus they did the instrument switcharoo on a couple, with the lead singer ending up behind the drum kit. It’s a gimmick I usually don’t care for, but they pulled it off.
Broken Social Scene was the next stop. I was unsure if their sound would translate to a large outdoor venue, but I enjoyed them nonetheless. Their energy and size (nearly a dozen) reminded me of Polyphonic Spree despite the fact they didn’t resemble them in the least. Another hour-long helping of these guys would have been good.
After BSS, we trudged to the other end of the Zilker Park to listen to Ryan Adams. Gold is one of my favorite albums of the last few years, so Adams was a must see despite a history of erratic live performances. It all started well enough, but after the first few songs it quickly faded into pretentious rock star ego tripping whereby the rest of the band was left trying to follow along as Adams noodled out an uninspired 20-minute guitar solo. Oh well.
For whatever reason, we didn’t make it to Franz Ferdinand (which seems to be off the charts on the buzz meter right now) and instead listened to most of Gomez’s set. As always, they had a great groove. I don’t remember much else other than thinking I should see them the next time they come through town.
In hopes of seeing Lance Armstrong, we suffered through the last show of the night: Sheryl Crow. VH-1-ified, it felt like a Pantene commercial, especially after the raw shows we’d seen earlier in the day. She worked the crowd in typical stadium show fashion and kept Kate interested with lame hints about her boyfriend making an appearance, which he finally did toward the end of the set when he carried a guitar on stage. We left soon thereafter and missed the second encore when the band launched into Little Wing, an obvious tribute to Austin’s favorite son, Stevie Ray Vaughn. It probably would have been better if she would have nixed it and ridden her bike home with Austin’s new favorite son since the crowd was already heading for the exits.
Day 2 turned out to be the craziest scene yet with an estimated attendance of more than 75,000 and long lines just to get in, never mind the beer stands and port o’ potties. We managed to catch ¾ of the Old 97’s, but like the day before it proved hard to enjoy anything during the hottest part of the afternoon.
After taking refuge in the shade for a half hour, we joined the mass of people crowding the stage for Modest Mouse. Silly me, I didn’t know MM was such a hit with the kids — they were out in full force dutifully singing along to “Float On” in between chatting on their cell phones. We were too far away to really hear or enjoy the show. Like Broken Social Scene, I think the short hour slot made it hard for them to build any momentum; but, this marked my first Beatle Bob experience. Apparently he’s the Frank Chu of St. Louis, except he manages to find his way on stage at rock shows and dance Austin Powers style. I’d actually seen him the night before at Shady Grove using the pay phone at which point I mechanically started singing “Hey Hey We’re the Monkees.”
We followed Modest Mouse with a danceable performance from Los Amigos Invisibles. Their techno-inspired funk felt good as the sun began to set.
After a small taste of G. Love (accompanied by Jack Johnson) we went to scope out a spot for the main event: The Pixies! Mind that exclamation because everyone young and old was saying it that way: The Pixies! They delivered all the favorites, giving a very tight workman-like performance. According to the Statesman, they cranked out 21 songs in an hour flat. The only hit missing was “Here Comes Your Man.” They sounded fantastic (if a little low-key), unfortunately no encore was to be had.
Day 3 started with the tail-end of a muddled Roots show. Sorry, but unless you’re Bootsy Collins, long bass solos just don’t do it for me — even then they are sometimes tedious.
Following the guttural gospel of North Mississippi Allstars we headed for Elvis Costello & the Imposters, who got off to a rough beginning when someone forgot to turn on Elvis’ mic. Whoops. Things didn’t get much better when it took two more songs to get the guitar player’s mic working. Except for a somewhat boring new one, “Monkey to Man,” it was a great set that closed with an extra-long version of “Pump It Up.”
My favorite show of the festival was the last full one we watched: Wilco. I had some reservations based on a blasé show at the Warfield last year; but, a lot has happened since then. Tweedy has been in and out of rehab, the band shed yet another founding member and then added two new people, one of which is the amazing guitarist Nels Cline. I have to say they’ve got everything dialed in now. They had no trouble pulling off the most complex tracks from the last two albums and closed with Spiders (Kidsmoke), a hard-driving kick-ass rock n’ roller. Wilco is alive and very well.
Before cutting out, we caught a whiff of Cake, but there were just too many people and too little amplification to really enjoy it. Not the best note to end the festival, but the burger afterwards at Casino El Camino made up for it.
Bell Canada Metal Pillars: Line the avenue
