By Jeremy Hallock
By James Khubiar
By Observer Staff
By Kelly Dearmore
By Jim Schutze
By Rachel Watts
By Lauren Drewes Daniels
Even in challenging circumstances, St. Vincent and the Polyphonic Spree did their best to show that strange and wonderful music can come from a city as bland and cruel as Dallas. Things would have been perfect if they'd played a day earlier.
On Day 1, nice weather and marvelous performances by the Arcade Fire, Neko Case, Ghostland Observatory and the Beastie Boys easily overpowered any disenchantment from the visa-related cancellation of Sri Lankan lady rapper M.I.A., the near-total absence of MC Sarah Silverman or the shamefully inflated concession prices. Besides, those problems were easy to dismiss: Great Lakes was an acceptable replacement for M.I.A., Silverman's cute-chick-plays-innocent-and-makes-shocking-remarks shtick is getting tiresome anyway, and why pay $11 for a beer when you could take a step in any direction and catch a contact high?
The performances on the medium-sized "Wookie" stage and small "Yeti" stage were no more crowded than an average club show, as the cushy soft grass and dramatic sight of the river winding behind the "Bigfoot" main stage tempted many festivalgoers to eschew the side stages entirely. Austin's Ghostland Observatory cranked up the Yeti crowd with hypnotic, synth-heavy hard rock. Lead singer Aaron Behrens darted and slithered around the stage, whipping the crowd into a frenzy until the duo rocked just a little too hard and blew out the power. The problem was fixed quickly, though, and the band immediately picked up where it left off. The Beastie Boys' Wookie set, billed as "instrumental," turned out to be a long performance generously leaning toward Check Your Head and Ill Communication hits with a couple of funky jams from their upcoming instrumental album; MCA later explained in a press conference that they called it "instrumental" because they couldn't think of another way to explain that they would be playing their instruments, proving that longtime stoners aren't so good with the, uh...what's it called...word choosing. The highlight of Bigfoot was the Arcade Fire, who gave raucously enthusiastic versions of songs from Funeral and Neon Bible before Björk's gorgeously weird headlining set.
In short, Day 1 was everything organizers and attendees of an outdoor festival could reasonably hope for. Unfortunately, the Dallas acts played Day 2.
Your Lips Are Red (but Will Soon Be Blue)
On Sunday morning, the chill of the previous night was slow to lift. The previous day's pleasant, cool breeze was replaced by colder and stronger winds, unpleasant foreshadowing of the weather to come. The sun was still struggling to warm the crowd when St. Vincent, the band name for former Polyphonic Spree guitarist Annie Clark's solo work, began her side-stage set promptly at noon. Clark started alone onstage with her guitars and a stomp box, easing the crowd into the music with a slow bird-whistle-accented number. That was followed by a mesmerizing version of "Your Lips Are Red," most memorable for its steady, pounding percussion thump at bowel-loosening, teeth-rattling, ear-popping volume. It reinforced my theory that if you can't feel the bass in every bone, it isn't loud enough; this was just right. After her darkly funny murder ballad "Bang Bang," she called up the rest of her band, which consisted of a rhythm section, trombonist and violinist. Leading the crowd in complicated clap-along rhythms and showing off the fretwork that earned her a spot in the Spree, she tore through the second half of her set as the crowd grew from a few dozen to what looked like at least a couple hundred. Hopefully she won over enough fans to get her on main stages by this time next year, or at least playing at night, which better suits her crazed, eclectic and theatrical songs.
By now the story is legendary, at least among Polyphonic Spree fans: During a 2002 performance at the Royal Albert Hall, the power cut out during the middle of their set.
Refusing to let the show end in disappointment, or perhaps sensing an opportunity, singer Tim DeLaughter belted out the next song and urged the band's choir and acoustic instrumentalists to join in. Just as the song reached its crescendo, the power came back on, thrilling audience members out of their seats and further propelling the band's buzz-fueled rise.
The band's day set at the Sasquatch! Festival could be the other side of that coin.
The Spree was scheduled to play just under an hour, starting at 4:20 p.m. By the time Spree members and crew began setting up the stage, the wind was strong enough to suck paper plates from under funnel cakes and whip them across the amphitheater. The lighting rigs above the band rocked ominously as the two dozen musicians began a slow-building "Running Away." Band members and audience alike nervously eyed the heavy equipment swaying above their heads. DeLaughter, looking thinner and more energetic than he has in years, leapt around stage with a wind-proof grin even as it became obvious that this time they would not conquer the elements.