Bonnaroo-porting, Take 3

Back again with the word from the 'roo on Saturday. Our epic journey concludes tomorrow.

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SATURDAY DAY

We really do mean to catch Dr. Dog and Gogol Bordello, but we’re just too exhausted. Never mind that the temperature in the tent makes it impossible to sleep past 9:00 AM, we simply sag in the shade, in our folding chairs, and talk until the afternoon.

I am happy in a guilty way that Annuals are still somewhat underground. For this reason we were able to get a spot in the front row despite only getting to the tent half an hour early. There were obvious problems with the mic levels for the first few songs, but the youthful band were good sports and obviously elated to be playing a set at Bonnaroo. Boy, did they play at Bonnaroo. The lead singer, Adam Baker, especially was a lightning rod of musical energy; watching Baker made you want nothing more than to be on stage beating the shit out of a drum right next to him (and he can play a drum like it’s the end of the world). Amateurs they may be, they are Bonnaroo level amateurs, and in a few years they will be giants.

After Annuals I was able to catch a few songs of The Hold Steady, who lived up to their reputation of the nation’s best bar band (except now the bar is a tent at Bonnaroo). I actually regretted leaving the tent to make sure I caught some of Damien Rice; I may have even stayed had I not been all the way in the back. Damien Rice was…Damien Rice. While I would much rather see him at a smaller, more intimate venue, he somehow managed to make a 90º field in Tennessee feel personal. Much more of a set than I was counting on; again, I wish I had been closer to the front (this Bonnaroo made me realize how much of a difference it makes to be in the front, just like on a roller coaster).

I was then able to catch some of Spoon and Ben Harper (Spoon is even greater on stage than in the studio, which is exceptional), but I put aside most of my schedule to accommodate Franz Ferdinand. Franz was nothing like I expected him to be in real life; he is perhaps the nicest rock star I have ever seen, and now officially my favorite Scotsman. The show was, naturally, incredibly fun in a way that only a contemporary band can provide.

SATURDAY NIGHT

We buy some more acid. More fake acid.

We miss The Police set because a) we knew the crowd would be superhuman and b) we can hear the entire thing from anywhere in Bonnaroo anyway. We decide instead to head to The Flaming Lips show a whole two hours early to grab good spots.

Well, it turns out that a few thousand people had the same idea! The good spots are gone, but we fight our way as close as we can get. Wayne and his buddies are already on stage setting up; then, an entire hour before the scheduled set they play some Black Sabbath simply to appease the swelling and voraciously enthusiastic crowd. When I look behind me at this point, I don’t see the end of the crowd (and this isn’t a tent, this is the second stage).

The show opens with a giant UFO made of lights and mirrors descending from the top of the stage…with Wayne Coyne in his crowd surfing bubble waiting on top. Cue: confetti cannons. Cue: balloon cannons.

He opens with Race For The Prize, and after that it’s hard to keep track. He definitely played crowd favorites, but then there were also instrumentals and a song that they had not performed live since 1996 when they were still a punk band. Vein Of Stars was made even better by the hundreds upon hundreds of laser pointers handed out to the crowd before the show, and this is to say nothing of the laser light show that was controlled from on stage.

There were two encores.

-jpm

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Stay tuned tomorrow for a wrap-up, the real drug, and the songwriter of this generation