Friday, 3 p.m.
"Yeah! Brooklyn!" someone yelled during a lull after "The Party" during St. Vincent's Friday afternoon set.
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Now, I'm not the kind of guy who needs to shout his affirmations of civic pride, but I was tempted to clarify where St. Vincent got her start by offering a counter-shout of "No, Dallas, man!"
But, whichever burg she calls home now, Annie Clark's enrapturing set did it proud. Her set was part of a David Byrne-curated day of music in That Tent. It was a prime gig on one of the largest stages, with a steady stream of people filing in from a nearby entrance, too entranced with the combination of violent guitar, sweet-sounding woodwinds and violin to not take a peak. And few could pull themselves away--the tent got more and more crowded as the set went on.
Her set-closing "Your Lips Are Red" encapsulated the balance of chaos and beauty that she pulls off like a magic trick. The guitar sounded like it was choking to death on distortion as she picked out the melody until the song ground to a halt. It seemed as if she and the band were about to indulge themselves in some jerk-off feedback and noise--but instead, an almost classical-sounding melody arose from violin, matched with soothing guitar.
Clark triumphed, and the crowd roared in awe.