It's 2010, everybody. We as a nation need to examine proper crowdsurfing situations with a more discerning eye. I'm not going to go so far as to say it's inappropriate in every situation, but there is no acceptable reason for why crowdsurfing is occurring during sets from Yeasayer or The Black Keys. Let's all make better choices. Go with yourself.
My Lollapalooza weekend started a night early, as I unexpectedly had the chance to see Soundgarden at the small Vic Theatre on Thursday night with a friend. It was a really fantastic show, consisting mostly of Badmotorfinger and Superunknown tracks. Cornell’s hair was at 1992 length, as was his voice which sounded great. Kim Thayil is now fat, with a gray beard and goofy hat that at first made me wonder, “When did Dr. John join Soundgarden?” Anyway, after getting the rock endorphins flowing, the weekend was off and running. And by running, I mean walking carefully. Nobody needs to run at festivals, kids!
Of the 37 Strokes songs on my iPod, roughly 2/3 of them have been listened to 4 times or fewer each. Of course the first two Strokes albums were released before I had an iPod, so those numbers may seem a bit deflated in relation to my actual enjoyment, but the fact remains that as much as I still love hearing one of their songs, I haven't particularly had an urge to listen to them much in recent years. With Lollapalooza serving as their U.S. reunion debut, I was looking forward to the set, but by the end of a long, action-packed, not-that-hot-but-still-pretty-hot Friday, I wasn't expecting a whole lot.
Since Lady Gaga started 30 minutes before The Strokes, I watched the beginning of her set. If it had been worthwhile, I was contemplating staying there, but it ended up being mediocre community theater, complete with terrible between-song "dialogue" and lots of screaming the words "Chicago!" and "Lollapalooza!" to force undeserved screams. So to the North stage I moved, noticing when I got there that in all honesty, the crowd disparity was 75/25 for Gaga. Huge gaps in the crowd allowed me to move within 100 feet or so from the stage. And then we waited. The 8:30p start time came and went. After about 15 minutes (during which time I honestly thought to myself "Maybe they've broken up for good just now!") At that moment, the stage went black, and Queen's "We Will Rock You" blared through the speakers. And another thought took over. This might be good.
What it ended up being, hyperbole aside, was one of the best shows I've ever seen. As in, top 5 in my life. Since the moment it ended, I've been trying to think about what made it so fantastic. The band was as perfectly tight as ever. Casablancas' voice was on point, bouncing from slurs to screams while still rocking a hooded sweatshirt AND leather jacket in decidedly non-chilly conditions. But what put the night over the top was the crowd, and I don't think I've ever thought that at any point during a festival show.
I'm placing the credit firmly on the counter-scheduling of Gaga. Throughout the day, it was shocking to me how many Gaga fans were in attendance, but it was also obvious that she was going to get all the casual Lolla-goers as well. This of course is perfectly understandable. If she had been playing opposite Phoenix or Green Day, I probably would have gone to her set as well out of sheer curiosity. The Strokes, on the other hand, were not going to have anyone seeing them out of ambivalence. Even people who hated Lady Gaga were going to opt for just going home as opposed to standing and watching a band they don't really care about sing songs that were never on the radio. If you were going to see The Strokes, it was because you loved The Strokes, not because you wanted to stand and watch while chatting with friends. Again, this a mindset that really never happens at festivals, but last night was a perfect storm, and from the moment the band opened with "New York City Cops," it became evident that this was something different.
Festival shows can provide a lot of great performances, but they hardly ever result in transcendent moments. When they do connect, it's a lightning strike of collective energy. LCD Soundsystem at Pitchfork this year was a perfect example of an otherwise outstanding set, that contained within it a moment of something different during "All My Friends" wherein a switch was flipped, and the collective power of the crowd went off the charts. The Strokes' set last night was that moment, for about 70 minutes straight. Every word to every song was screamed by every person, fists in the air and dumb grins on our faces. (Okay, maybe not every word, but only because nobody can really sing the chorus of "Hard to Explain" without butchering the order of the lines.)
Gaga had the majority of people on her side of the park, but there is no possible way they were louder or happier than we were. Her stage set was the most expensive in Lollapalooza history, and from what I saw it was sterile and underwhelming. The Strokes had an Atari version of Pac-Man being played on the screen behind them, and it was perfect. From one song to the next, the collective energy just kept going, to the point where everyone had a look in their eyes wondering "Is this happening?" and the only answers you would get were the looks in other peoples eyes asking the same thing. The set was a little short, but nobody cared. We just filed out, hearing seemingly every person around mumbling "Oh my God," at what just happened. Everyone was saying the same thing, but it wasn't quite as synchronized as our collective chorus of "Juicebox."
Your work is cut out for you on Sunday, Arcade Fire. Act accordingly.
The Setlist: New York City Cops The Modern Age Hard to Explain What Ever Happened? You Only Live Once Soma Is This It Vision of Division I Can’t Win Reptila Last Nite ----- Juicebox Someday Under Control Heart in a Cage Take It or Leave It
Thom Yorke put out a solo album in 2006. It served as a decent, above-average space holder during a four year gap between Radiohead albums. While The Eraser was an interesting experiment by a man and his laptop, it seemed odd to A) wait four years to tour in promotion of such an album, and B) recruit Joey Waronker and Flea to be in the "backing band"
(along with Nigel Godrich) for songs that contain little live percussion and bass.
And yet, by the end of last night, an unexpected thought had entered my mind. This performance was as a good as a Radiohead show, or at least a flash-sideways version of a Radiohead show. The songs on The Eraser sound like demo versions compared to the full band arrangements on display at the Aragon. Yorke's minimalistic blips were transformed into angry guitar riffs. He danced and screamed in contrast to the reserved nature of early Radiohead performances. Waronker utilized a souped-up drum and electronic percussion kit. Flea was Flea, blue-haired and gyrating with Yorke, while remaining fully clothed! Case in point: "Harrowdown Hill."
It's got a nice beat and you can to it! Atoms For Peace are essentially The Eraser on steroids. The good kind of steroids. In addition, Yorke and Flea faced off at one point in a heated wood block vs melodica battle.
This song needs more blow-organ!
After running through the album front-to-back, Yorke returned solo to play a new, as yet untitled song. He makes reference at the beginning of this clip to his "other band" working on an arrangement, at which point all the nerdy Radiohead fans nerd out in their nerd-coated delight.
Then another Radiohead song! During which the one person between myself and the front rail** decided to have his own personal "clap over your head" party. Down in front, poindexter! Some of snuck in flip cams in our pants, and you're fucking with our visual art!
** Ah yes, did I mention I was in the second row? Whatever, no big deal. It doesn't mean I think I'm better than anybody. It just meant that I could serve as a source of disappointment for my show-going partner for my refusal to leave the spot to get beer after the opening act. "Are you out of your mind? I'm not leaving this spot! I've gone all day without even drinking water so that I'd have no reason to move!"
SET 1: The Eraser Analyse The Clock Black Swan Skip Divided Atoms For Peace And It Rained All Night Harrowdown Hill Cymbal Rush
SET 2: Untitled New Song [Thom solo] I Froze Up (Kid A outtake) [Thom solo] Everything In Its Right Place [Thom solo]
Paperbag Writer (Hail to the Thief b-side) Judge, Jury & Executioner The Hollow Earth Pulled Apart By Horses
Today is Kurt Cobain's 43rd birthday. The thought of a 43-year-old Kurt Cobain makes no logical sense. It's impossible to create an image of what type of music or existence Cobain would be creating were he alive today, as no genre seems particularly viable.
Evan Dando's 43rd birthday is less than two weeks away. Like Cobain, he spent the early portion of the 1990s appearing on magazine covers and consuming a ridiculous amount of heroin and cocaine. Unlike Cobain, Dando avoided killing himself, and it appears that his artistic reward for still being alive to to try and figure out how to navigate the waters of his past, his future, and pop music as a genre. There's a misconception that Elliott Smith's songs were sad and miserable because people thought of Smith himself being sad and miserable. This is not the case, but listening to the It's a Shame About Ray or Come on Feel the Lemonheads today reveals something obvious in retrospect: Evan Dando was a pretty miserable junkie in his heyday, albeit a junkie whose talent for composing hooks loomed even larger than his habit. The songs and arrangements were so catchy that few has any incentive to delve into the actual lyrical content. After all, who wants to spend time examining layers of the guy who writes "Bit Part" or covers "Mrs. Robinson." It's much more fun to keep the critiques simple, and revel in the eternally adorable backing vocals of Juliana Hatfield.
At the Double Door last night, Dando seemed like a man at a crossroads. He seemingly no longer relates on any level to the songs that made him a twee Gen X poster boy. He sings them like a busker on the subway, literally sounding like he's doing a cover version of a song he wrote himself. Examine the following sequence, where he soullessly shuffles through trimmed down offerings of "Into Your Arms" and "It's About Time," before segueing into "No Backbone," an excellent song off The Lemonheads' 2006 self-titled album (and one that actually seems to carry some emotional weight in the performance.)
January 24, 2009 was a Saturday night. As you might expect, it was a bitterly cold evening. Frightened Rabbit were playing two shows at the Empty Bottle, at 7pm and 10pm respectively. I had tickets for the early show and it appeared I would be attending solo, as my designated show-going sidekick had landed a new job the day before, and had to start her training that night. I posted my now extra will-call ticket on craigslist, quickly found a buyer, met her at the door, and prepared for early-show rocking to commence.
Halfway through the set, my new friend leaned over to me.
"We should stay for the late show."
"It's been sold out for months. I don't think we'll be able to hide until it starts."
"Let's think of a way to make it happen."
The band ripped through nearly every track on the album. Scott Hutchinson sang "Poke" without any amplification, strumming away on top of a monitor and adding a new layer of intimacy to the most wistful song to wonder aloud "Should we kick its cunt in and watch as it dies from bleeding?" Scottish people can just say anything, can't they?
The show ended. People slowly filed out, lingering to finish drinks or pull posters off the wall as impromptu souvenirs. Due to the two-show setup, it was barely 9pm. Clearly too early to call it a night, but winters nights in Chicago dictate that next plans be set clearly before heading out into the concrete tundra. With that in mind, we took matters into our own hands and confronted the doorman. There was no song and dance. She got straight to the point.
"What do we need to do to stay for the next show?"
He looked us over.
“Go stand outside for 20 minutes. When we open the doors back up, give me ten bucks.”
Best bargain ever? Best bargain ever. We stood outside, our faces burning with each masochistic gust of bitter wind. Sure enough when the doors opened, we paid our ten bucks, and prepared to re-live our experience from a couple hours before.
We walked back inside and briefly chatted with the singer at the bar. (She complimented his diverse wardrobe of plaid.) The second show was as outstanding as the first, though it seemed the crowd was smaller, so who knows what happened to those tickets that sold out months in advance. It’s slightly surreal to watch two nearly identical performances back-to-back, especially when the later show is viewed through the filter of additional beers. The encore included a Neutral Milk Hotel cover that did not appear in the earlier set, and again we watched the crowd file out afterward. The wind had died down and Western Avenue felt warmer.
The Midnight Organ Fight is an album you should own.
While watching Ted Leo and the Pharmacists Sunday night, I realized that it might have been the first time I'd ever seen a headlining act treat an encore more or less as it was originally intended. At this point, the art of the encore is a ridiculous notion. It's no longer a demand of the audience wanting more, but rather artists tailor setlists as to hold off the signature tracks specifically for the encore. So it was interesting to see Leo come out for the encore and actually take a few minutes to think about what to play. (He eventually on solo covers of Eddie and the Hot Rods and The Waterboys before bringing the band back out.) At this point, encores are automatic. We all know they're going to happen, so it's nice to see at least some attempt at spontanaity.
But the encore selections weren't the only admirable attempts at ad-libbing last night. Leo preceded "Bottle of Buckie" with a story that at certain points involved being creeped out by "Greased Lighting" at age 10, and watching "Hoffa" with a girlfriends' parents - a circumstance which allows a heightened awareness of every f-bomb on screen. While rolling through a mid-set flurry of new songs, a broken bass drum was replaced while Leo did his best impression of a jam band to kill time. Faulty equipment aside, the band was outstanding. The new songs have me eagerly anticipating his Matador debut, and Lincoln Hall sounded great for a new venue still working out the kinks in sound mixes.
"Me and Mia" is a track that is so catchy on the surface that it's easy to overlook what the lyrics are actually referring to. Based on years spent around a diagnosed anorexic, I can attest that Leo's depiction of the details are eerily exact. Lack of body heat, sunken eyes, spinal prominence on the back. Not to mention the "me against the world" mentality that tends to develop in those afflicted, when an infinite number of verbal battles with those trying to help usually only cause the victim to further worsen their condition. The final lines offer a thought-provoking parallel about those using hunger strikes to fight for an actual cause vs. those using a similar method for less valid, more personal reasons. It would seem that Leo has likely fought the battle himself, and the video at least offers a happy ending that gives some sense of hope in winning the war.
Full Details of the BIBJ Millennial Playlist Hullabaloo are available here. Today's entry is #91: Kick, Push by Lupe Fiasco (2006)
It would be disingenuous to ignore the feeling that this song has achieved a great deal of critical acclaim for the simple fact that few hip-hop songs celebrate skateboarding to this extent. That said, the nights of Chicago are getting chilly and brisk, and the strings and horns here instantly remind me of Windy City summers.
BAD IDEA MINI-SHOW REVIEW: PASSION PIT AT LOGAN SQUARE AUDITORIUM
Last night I saw Passion Pit play a free show at the 700 person-capacity Logan Square Auditorium. I'm not a huge fan of them, but supposedly they were one of the highlights of Lollapalooza, and considering I won free tickets, it was worth the trip - especially considering they gave us glow sticks at the door.
Glow sticks really cross over all musical demographics, don't they? They're never out of place. Of course when you give glow sticks to 700 people, you are essentially saying, "Hey everyone, here are 700 small glowing piece of plastic for you to throw!" And thrown they were throughout the set. To the point where the singer mentioned, "Those things really hurt when they hit you." Of course, he never really said "Please STOP throwing them at me," so he was sporadically pelted with one stray green light after another.
But this wasn't just a beer-sponsored glow stick party. They played music also! This is a band that works resonably well within an hour-long set. The nasally falsetto vocals got old real quick, and after a while you do feel that you're hearing the same song repeatedly. That said, I defy anyone to listen to "Little Secrets" and not get wrapped up in the catchiness of the PS22 kids choir belting out "Higher and Higher" through the chorus.
Last year's Lollapalooza was basically perfect, lineup-wise as well as weather-wise. This year's lineup left me wholeheartedly underwhlemed, so instead of dealing with Friday's rain and the sweltering humidity of Saturday and Sunday, I opted for two shows at the Metro instead: The Decemberists on Thursday and Fleet Foxes on Saturday. As the Indy Decemberists review below points out, they're swinging for the fences these days (and they opened with the 18-minute epic The Tain on Thursday.) Also, I would like to publicly petition that the "Diamond" duo vocalists be present as much as possible, and perhaps turn this band into America's supergroup answer to the New Pornographers.
But on to Saturday night. We walked in just before 11pm as openers Dungen were taking the stage. Dungen are from Sweden, and as such, all their lyrics are sung in Swedish. This makes for an enjoyable time of guessing what their lyrics are about. I'm guessing most revolve around fun bike rides, or any activity related to fjords. But then again, they could just as likely be anti-semitic screeds. Who knows? They vacillated between airy pop melodies and full-blown psychedlia, and I believe they are the first rock band I've ever seen incorporate the flute so heavily.
It should be pointed out that the Metro felt like a damn oven Saturday night. The fans were on, but made no difference. The air was humid, stagnant, and unrelenting, leaving all in attendance sweltering to a particularly uncomfortable degree. By the time Fleet Foxes took the stage a bit after midnight, My clothes felt at least five pounds heavier. One could easily surmise that if I was that sweaty, it had to be much worse for the flannel-clad, hirsute band on stage.
Robin Pecknold has apparently been quite sick with a nasty fever lately, and mentioned a couple songs into the set that he had been ingesting an Advil/Dayquil cocktail that he discouraged anyone else from attempting. Despite the fact that he looked like a man constantly on the verge of passing out, he never removed his flannel shirt. That's dedication to the image my friend.
Fortunately the fever had no bearing whatsoever on the vocals, which of course is the staple of the band's short, but quickly growing, legend. The four-parts soared through the set without ever hitting a stray note. The crowd that started off subdued at the beginning of the set got progressively louder in sing-a-longs throughout the set, feeding off the energy of the bearded harmonizers sweating their asses off while belting through an 80-minute set. I don't have the setlist, but suffice it to say they played everything you would want to hear from their album and EP, as well as a couple excellent-sounding new songs.
Last year's Fleet Foxes set at Pitchfork impressed in respect to their ability to match the pristine performance created in the studio. But the band's growth from last year to this one cannot be ignored. The performances sound fuller, with an energy and confidence that goes above and beyond what they've laid down on tape. The vocals are belted out with more passion and they're that much more engaging as a result. The natural assumption would be that a year on the road had simply given them the confidence to take chances and experiment with a solid foundation. But I attribute it to Robin Pecknold completely abandoning the whole "sitting down on stage" act. Technicians can sit, but rock stars have to stand. Even when the potential for heat stroke is staring them in the face.
Last night, the Decemberists made their first trip to Indianapolis. I was pumped for a few reasons:
#1: They're probably in my current top 5 favorite bands #2: I'd only seen them one other time #3: As a high school English teacher, I appreciate their high vocabulary and obsession with British folk tales #4: It was on the same night as my best friend's bachelorette party.
side note regarding #4: Yes, I planned a bachelorette party. I'm her best man. It's nothing like that Patrick Dempsey movie. And it didn't involve plastic penises of any kind.
So, after a lovely bachelorette dinner that involved no "woo-ing" of any kind (the other bachelorette party that did include plastic penises woo-ed enough for the both of us), we headed in just as the Heartless Bastards got started.
I knew nothing of this band going in, but I thought they brought it. Admittedly, as we walked into the Egyptian Room and heard the lead singer's voice, we kept looking at the drummer, guitarist, and bassist, wondering how those guys were singing without moving their lips or standing in front of a mic. Then we realized that the lead singer was the girl on stage. She just sounded like a man. Still, it rocked. But it just didn't look right, that voice coming from that body. But if they're good enough for Letterman, they're good enough for me.
After the customary intermission, the Decemberists made their way to the stage. They had played Lollapalooza the previous night, and were continuing their current habit of playing two sets. The first would be a performance of their latest album The Hazards of Love in its entirety. While some critics weren't impressed with their attempt at a 50-minute song about forest queens and baby killers, I love the album, and seeing it performed live was more like watching a play. It was strange to not clap after each song, since so many of them blended together, faded away, and came back 20 minutes later. The crowd seemed to applaud for feats of musical strength, rather than the end of songs. Wicked xylophone solo? HERE HERE!! HAR HAR!! psychodelic guitar freak-out? HERE HERE!! HAR HAR!! Shara Worden charging to the front of the stage and shaking the Egyptian tombdwellers back to life? HERE HERE!! HAR HAR!!
A quick note on Shara Worden of My Brightest Diamond. I know of her band. I think I even have a couple albums on my iPod. She's a labelmate of my boyzzz Jookabox. But I've never listened. Well, her performance stole the show from the Decemberists. It was loud. It was passionate. It won me over. Becky Stark, though her performance as Margaret looked a bit too much like a Woodstock attendee tripping on acid, impressed with her voice as well.
I imagine that those fans unfamiliar with the album may have found themselves bored at times, but not this guy.
After intermission, they returned for their 2nd set. Luckily, I was texting each song as they played to a buddy that couldn't attend the show, so I can recall the set list:
Set 1: The Hazards of Love (the whole darn thing)
Set 2: July, July (in my top 5 Decemberists songs) Billy Liar (complete with Colin-directed audience group harmonizing) The Sporting Life Down By the Water (new song, Colin had a harmonica, so that was neat) The Crane Wife 3 Yankee Bayonet **Dracula's Daughter (worst song Colin ever wrote) O Valencia Crazy On You (Heart cover)
Encore: Raincoat Song Sons and Daughters (again...top 5)
**Colin released a live album with a recording of this song. He tells a story of it being the worst song he ever wrote. That's why it's only one verse long. But tonight, he told some meandering story about how it was so bad that God cried when he wrote it. And those tears formed the Nile River. And civilizations thrived around that river. And those societies eventually died through conflict and war. But then an Indianapolis explorer found one of their ancient Egyptian ballrooms in perfect condition.....and transported it to his hometown. Then we laughed. I've noticed this tendency of bands that play the Egyptian Room to mention its uniqueness. I guess growing up here, I assumed most concert venues had a theme that can also be found at the Sybaris.
Sadly, there was no 2nd encore, which would have likely brought the Mariner's Revenge Song, which I've yet to see (and scream) live. But alas, you can't win 'em all.
Highlights of the show:
The Rake Song (infanticide never sounded so booming)
the Heart cover (the Diamond gals killed it)
Sons and Daughters (I get chills just watching this crappy youtube recording....complete with woo girls.....aaaaaaaand full circle!!!)
Sam Beam does not look like a particularly humorous gentleman. Then again, he doesn't particularly have the look of a teacher either, which he was before be started writing songs in the vein of an outdoorsy Nick Drake/Elliott Smith. Despite physical impressions though, Beam is a funny guy, and comedic chatter was on display throughout a solo request-based acoustic show at Lakeshore Tuesday night. At one point when the theater sound system disagreed with Beam's guitar, he killed time by asking if anyone had any questions. Naturally, this prompted the nerdiest question asked at a concert ever. "What have you been reading?" came the request from the middle of the 300 packed seats. Without missing a beat, Beam responded, "Twilight." Perfect. But his literate admirer would not be denied. "No, seriously," he implored. "Seriously? New Moon." Outstanding stuff.
Despite the technical difficulties and dalliances into open mic comedy, the concert itself was powerful stuff. I saw Iron and Wine last year at Lollapalooza, but the time of day and cumulative effect of the weekend kept me from enjoying the set too much. But with the arrangements stripped down to Beam's guitar and voice, along with the setting of playing in an absurdly small and intimate theater, all the lyrical imagery is heightened and as a spectator you don't want to move a muscle.
The fact that the setlist was open to internet voting before the tour started ensured a healthy mix of newer tracks (Boy With a Coin, Song of the Shepherd's Dog) and more obscure older cuts (Upward Over the Mountain), along with a cover of New Order's Love Vigilantes. The spontaneity factor was high while Beam tried to remember lyrics of songs he hadn't played in years, and also remarked on the age old concert-going tradition of cheering upon immediate recognition of a song (Beam: "I always wonder if that means people just really love that first chord, as opposed to the actual song. Give it up for C!")
There are many songs on my iPod that I wish lasted twice as long, but "The Trapeze Swinger" is the only song that clocks in at 9 1/2 minutes, yet still always seems too short when it ends. This was again the case last night when he closed his main set with an epic version of the non-album classic. If you don't already own this track, you should download it from SubPop for free HERE and make your life complete.
The setlist:
Sodom South Georgia
He Lays In The Reins
Woman King
Swans And The Swimming
Wolves (Song of the Shepherd's Dog)
Mary Ann
Evening On The Ground (Lilith's Song)
Friends, They Are Jewels
Upward Over The Mountain
Loss Vigilantes (New Order cover)
Carousel
Pagan Angel And A Borrowed Car
Jezebel
Beauty And A Family
Boy With The Coin
The Trapeze Swinger
Resurrection Fern (encore)
On a Thursday night when the Chicago windchill descends to 40 degrees BELOW ZERO, it's nice to think about baseball. And in this day and age when everyone is bleeding cash, it's a positive experience to attend a charity event and give yourself a nice ego boost to balance the depression on viewing your checking account balance. With that in mind, the sold out benefit at the House of Blues benefiting Cubs kids charities had all bases covered.
Opening the show was Cubs fan Tom Morello, which seemed fitting. When it comes to putting together a children's' charity event, I've always claimed that the main ingredient is vitriolic political rock, especially when the inspiring anger solely revolves around a President who has less than a week left in office. Within Morello's set, he ripped through an cover of AC/DC's Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap, but replaced the lyrics with new ones all about the Bush administration. My show-going colleague hit the nail on the head when she called it "The worst Weird Al song ever." Morello did better off ripping through an inspired version of Bruce Springsteen's "Ghost of Tom Joad," then closed his set shouting through an angry 10-minute diatribe over "This Land Is Your Land," while an increasingly bored crowd waited it out.
With that unevenness behind, the giant novelty check was wheeled out claiming a donation of over $41,000 for the night. The applause was quickly drowned out by the Cubs rep remarking to the crowd that in the previous two years of this benefit, the Cubs have won two straight division titles. Surprisingly, this did not go over well with Cubs fans - it's almost like they want more than a division title! Another thing that's great about events like this in Chicago is that any time somebody mentions the Cubs at all, the Sox fans (about 1/3 of the crowd) vehemently boo. It's all very entertaining for a charity event.
Spirits were due for a pick up. Enter The Hold Steady. Not only is their most recent album title a constant motto for Cubs fans, but the band took to the stage and represented with flying colors for the children. Having seen this band five times in the last couple years, their evolution as stage musicians has been intriguing to see. When I saw them at the Music Mill in 2007, I dubbed them the heir apparent to Guided By Voices based on their sheer enjoyment of playing live, combined with the copious amounts of booze they consumed throughout the set. At each show since then, they've been drinking less, and sounding better. Who knew those two factors might be related?
As Andy Kindler accurately noted on the Late Show, it always seems odd that one of the most engaging frontmen in rock looks like he should be doing your taxes. Nobody leaves unaffected by Craig Finn's manic shuffling, including my show-going colleague who was inspired to buy their first two albums from the merch table after the show. The mundane stories of boys and girls in America consistently are transformed into epic tales of spirituality and self discovery, with sweeping guitar hooks and an almost embarrassingly optimistic view that "We can all be something bigger." The pure earnestness of the redemptive powers of music strip away even the most jaded cynicism, and it's a mesmerizing experience.
If that wasn't enough to get everyone on the same page, Finn proved he can unify through other methods. After kicking off the set by ripping through eight straight songs without a spare moment, Finn naturally took time to talk up the Twins, eventually reaching a truce with Cubs and Sox fans alike by pointing out that "at least we all hate the Yankees."
Counting this past Monday, I've seen Wilco 3 times.
The first time, I was at X-Fest '97, the Indy Rock Alternative's summer festival. Wilco was the first band on the main stage, so they played at like 1:00 p.m. I had never heard of them, but immediately liked them. It was my 1st experience in discovering a band on my own. My friends weren't so enthusiastic. I think they all left during Wilco's 3rd song to check out Sugar Ray.
The 2nd time was in 2005, when Wilco donated their services for the Rock for Riley benefit concert. Between 1997 and then, I had become a bona fide Wilco nut bar. And when we scored 8th row seats, I knew we were in for a treat. The show that night ranks #2 on my all-time list. Nels Cline had recently jumped on board, Jeff Tweedy had recently jumped on the wagon, and they played for a ridiculously long time. I felt beat up afterward. It was awesome.
The 3rdtime was on Monday. Let's cut to the chase:
Pros
* Diverse set list - lots o' Summerteeth and lots o' dad rock (a.k.a. Sky Blue Sky). Even a couple new ones ("One Wing" and "Sunny Feeling"). Here's the rest of the set list:
Via Chicago
Side With The Seeds
You Are My Face
One Wing
IATTBYH
Remember The Mountain Bed
Company In My Back
Handshake Drugs
Pot Kettle Black
Impossible Germany
Forget The Flowers
Jesus Etc.
Sunny Feeling
Walken
I'm The Man That Loves You
Spiders (Kidsmoke)
----------Encore #1------------
Hate It Here
Heavy Metal Drummer
Shot In The Arm
Casino Queen
Hoodoo Voodoo
---------Encore #2-----------
Monday
Outtasite (Outta Mind)
* Cool venue - this was my 1st trip to the Lawn, Indianapolis' downtown concert venue. Picture any outdoor amphitheater stuck in the middle of nowhere, shrink it to a 1/3 of its size, stick in the heart of downtown, and give everyone a folding chair! You've got the Lawn!
* Air Guitar guy - the dude next to us played air guitar for the entire show (well, not the entire show, for some reason, he didn't play the encores). He never stopped. He would mouth words, but not the words of the song. He didn't know those (he probably just repeated "watermelon cantaloupe"). And he even air clapped. At first, we thought this was due to his commitment to the art of air musicianship. Then we noticed that the dude next to him was recording a bootleg, and he probably didn't want to ruin it. A true professional.
*Indianapolis clapping - Tweedy fed us an obviously-patronizing but still excitedly-accepted compliment on our clapping during "Spiders (Kidsmoke)." He said we were better than his hometown Chicago. Take that, Kanye!
Cons
* Bugs - I guess when you put a concert venue next to a dirty river, on a humid summer day in the Midwest, you're bound to get bugs. I wasn't so much annoyed by the biting as I was by its effect on Jeff Tweedy. Between each song, he would make some bug joke. "Gnat King Cole." "I've eaten about 50 bugs. I'm full." Stuff like that.
* The dads - lots of dads in the audience. They must read Pitchfork. And while I love me some Sky Blue Sky, I was in the mood to rock and/or roll, not rock and/or sway.
"If you came to see Kid Rock, you're in the wrong place."
That's how Thom Yorke introduced himself Sunday night in Indianapolis, after skipping Indy on their tour routes of the last 13 years or so. We arrived in time to hear Grizzly Bear's last few songs, so I can't definitively say much about them. So on to the big dogs:
My fandom of Radiohead is a bit uneven. For me, their catalog seems to fit into the following categories:
albums I love to drive to (Pablo Honey, The Bends, OK Computer) albums I think the band was trying to see what they could get away with (Kid A, Amnesiac) albums that are excellent background music for grading papers (Hail To the Theif, In Rainbows)
And going into the show, I had realistic expectations that I wouldn't hear much from the road trip era, and I'd probably get In Rainbows in its near entirety (though, this time, I had to pay for it). I wasn't far off. For a guy who completely respects (though I don't always understand) what Radiohead does as a great rock band that caters to themselves only, I am glad I took the opportunity to see them. Here's my abbreviated take on the show:
Pros:
* The visual show - LED (which means earth-friendly, or something) light tubes imprisoned the band, and obscure camera angles showed the band throughout the show. At one point, Yorke looked into the camera and played with the audience, raising his eyebrow (sort of like The Rock). For someone who wasn't overtaken with emotion during "Morning Bell," the lights were entertaining on their own.
* Very little small talk - other than his Kid Rock joke, Yorke kept it to a brief "thanks" every 4 songs or so. At some point, he congratulated the crowd on the low number of cars in the parking lot (that's what they must do between encores...count cars).
* The road trip songs - they were few and far-between, but damn, they were great. "Just" and "Street Spirit" from The Bends, "Karma Police" and "Exit Music" from OK Computer.
Cons
* Deja vu - there were about 3 times that a song began, and I thought "Didn't they play this 30 minutes ago?" I never realized how many Radiohead songs start with light guitar noodling, thom Yorke crying into the mic, and herky-jerky techno drums.
* Radioheadheads - is that what you call devotees of this band? We were next to a father/son/uncle trio who proclaimed each song to be "unreal" and never got over the fact that "their hero was on stage." They also smoked a brick of weed. It was a night that changed their lives forever. And they were so enthralled, they had to call people during "National Anthem" to tell them.
Overall, it wasn't a gut-busting show, but it definitely grew my appreciation for Kid A leaps and bounds, and I hope that next time they come to Indy (in 2021), they'll throw some "Paranoid Android" my way (I couldn't not link to one of the greatest music videos of all time).
Please tell me that isn't Cat Power murdering "Fortunate Son."
This was the first thought that entered my mind when I initially heard distinct sounds coming from Grant Park Friday. Thanks to getting stuck working downtown most of the day, I missed a big chunk of Friday bands, as I feared I would, and I entered hearing Cat Power ramble her way through a depressingly plodding cover of Creedence. Upon realizing that it was 5:30pm, I had no time to mess around. I entered the giant beast that is Grant Park (which had SOLD OUT somewhere between 75,000 and 80,000 tickets for night 1) and made my way to the south end, stopping to listen to Grizzly Bear on one of the smaller stages. Much like Fleet Foxes delivered at Pitchfork, Grizzly Bear had the layered harmonies pitch-perfect. They're a band whose tunes are clearly more suited to an intimate setting, but they delivered here, and the sound quality was remarkably clear for a festival setup, which gave me high hopes about the rest of the weekend.
From there, I moved down to the main south stage and met up with friends to watch Bloc Party. I LOVED the first Bloc Party album, and thought the second album was good as well, but the live show does nothing to enhance their music. It's rarely a good sign for a band when the drummer has the most stage presence, as was the case here. The bassist and guitarist barely moved, and for a band who has so much energy on their albums, you just didn't see it in the performance. It made me wish I had gone to see the Raconteurs instead, but on the plus side, I was already in place for Radiohead here on the same stage.
I had once heard that festivals are a great place to see bands you like, but an awful place to see bands you love. I can somewhat see the reasoning behind this logic after seeing Radiohead. The band sounded as good as they've ever been - every song of In Rainbows was played, with a decent mix of older stuff (including "The Bends" which made my jaw drop.) But I'm not really sure that Radiohead are a "festival" band. They've shown before that they could easily take the U2 (and now Coldplay) route and crank out mindless stadium-ready rock anthems one after another, but obviously they want to do something else and continually explore new directions. This aspect is one of the things that makes them my favorite band; it's also what makes them maddening to a large number of people, and I totally understand why that is. When 80,000 people are in attendance though, most fall in between these two demos. They're there to hear "Karma Police", and when instead they get an outstanding reworking of "The Gloaming" (maybe my least favorite track on Hail to the Thief, but a true highlight of the show) they tune out. The following pattern happened several times:
Radiohead play one of their more nuanced songs
Casual Lolla-goers who don't know the song start chatting amongst themselves
Radiohead fans start yelling "Shh!" at the casual fans (It's never a rock festival if you're not Shh-ing someone!)
Casual fans seem shocked that someone is telling them to be quiet
Everyone seems pissed
One person who was never pissed though, was this girl: This chick climbed up a speaker tower 30 feet high during the 3rd song of the set and rocked out for most of the show. Every once in a while a security guard would venture halfway up the tower and then decide they weren't risking their ass to get this loon down. Seriously, it took them until the encore to get her off! She was fun. While I was shooting unreasonably snotty glares at people around me who dared to chat during "All I Need," there were several highlights. Fireworks started going off during an epic run through "Fake Plastic Trees," the crescendo of which had chills running through me. "Everything in It's Right Place" is quickly becoming a staple of their live show. It's drastically re-worked from the version recorded for Kid A and is turned into a flat out dance-rock song. As the final encore ended with a blistering rendition of "Idioteque," I left day 1 thinking that Radiohead were as excellent as I had hoped, but wishing that the rumored secret show at the Chicago Theatre hadn't been called off the night before.
DAY 2 By Friday, day 2 of Lolla had sold out as well. I can't remember ANY day of Lollapalooza selling out before, but the weather was not as hot as forecasted, which made the crowd more bearable. I arrived bright and early Saturday, strolling in the gate around Noon to see Margot and the Nuclear So and So's. Indy represent! I can't fully articulate how bizarre it was to see them play on this massive stage, but they sounded great, especially on "Skeleton Key." I'm on the fence about the newer material I've heard, but one can never be on the fence about the joy from watching Casey Tennis' percussion dances.
After Margot's quick set, I met some friends to watch The Ting Tings. Aside from finding couple songs charmingly disposable, I can't get into this duo, but they had a HUGE crowd there even playing so early, so maybe it's just me. One band I can get into, however, is Dr. Dog, who played as the Ting Tings wrapped. I'd only heard a couple of their songs before, but they had some heavy buzz, and they were fantastic. There's a heavy dose of The Band along with Beach Boys harmonies, and it all worked. Everything worked as well for The Gutter Twins. I can get behind pretty much everything Greg Dulli has done, but I never got into The Afghan Whigs until they broke up, and I was late jumping on board The Twilight Singers as well. Dulli and Mark Lanegan showcase a brooding disturbing swagger meant to be heard late at night in a smoke-filled room, but they sounded just as great at 3pm. I spent the walk over to the North stage debating the name of the alt-hit that Mark Lanegan had in the mid-90's when he was with Screaming Trees. The answer: "Nearly Lost You," which I mistakenly had pegged a Jesus Jones song. Upon being proven wrong by a feisty friend of a friend, I walked in shame toward the other side of the park.
We strolled through the merchandising aisle, which contained your standard festival fair along with this booth: Wow - it's almost like he's a rock star or something! By the time the festival had ended on Sunday, I never quite found where the Official McCain store was on the premises.
While I was still coming to grips with my failures in Seattle grunge music trivia, the band providing the uplifting score was Explosions In The Sky. Like many people, I first heard EITS on the score for Friday Night Lights. The lack of a singer, alongside the layered arrangements make it sound like they're cranking out rock-based symphonic movements rather than standard songs. They were the best band of the day thus far - it's hard to crank out emotion without lyrics, but these guys left everything on the stage and it was exciting to watch. Under normal circumstances, they would have been difficult to follow, but Broken Social Scene was up to the challenge. I wrote in my preview that something about them hasn't translated for me on their albums, but it all clicked on the live show. While Feist was not in attendance, the other members held everything down. BSS ripped through an inspired set that made for the quickest hour of the day. And at one point five different people were playing guitars, which has to count for something, no? Good things were happening on this stage, and although everyone else I knew at Lolla (and probably 2/3 of the entire audience) was going to see Rage Against the Machine, I stayed to wait for Wilco. I was in a prime location 20 yards from the stage, and knew Wilco could be counted on for a solid night. I realized my expectations needed to be re-evaluated before a single note was played.
Look at those suits! Every member of the band had a different colored nudie suit. I am telling everyone who reads this blog - these suits are better than anything you will ever see on Project Runway. EVER. No Contest. Jeff Tweedy claimed that the band had spent the last month sewing their suits, and while I'm skeptical, no one could argue when Tweedy remarked, "Radiohead were awesome last night, but they haven't been doing any sewing. They're all about the 21st century and beyond."
As for the music, I realized that Wilco is a band I largely take for granted, probably because they seem to tour all the time. I initially wasn't that excited to see them since I'd seen them before, but they quickly reminded me why they're the best band in America. Everything they do is great. When I last saw them at Rock For Riley, Glenn Kotche's insane drumming stood out, but guitarist Nels Cline was the star tonight. His 2 1/2-minute solo during "Impossible Germany" pretty much had me losing my shit:
Bonus points to Wilco as well for playing literally up to 10pm, and not wasting time with a stupid encore break when the clock was ticking. (Radiohead did 2 encores Friday night, and while I understand the process behind it, they could have used the time spent leaving and returning twice to play another song. We're up against the clock here guys!)
One other note on Wilco - apparently this is some sort of regular occurrence at Lolla, but I never noticed until the Wilco set that there was a dancing woman just in front of the stage performing the lyrics via sign language. This baffled me - are there deaf people coming to Lollapalooza? Or deaf people viewing online? Who knows, but my favorite part of the sign language lady's repertoire was that when the band was jamming out, and there were no lyrics that needed to be signed, she would often play the air bass, which is perhaps the most underutilized of all air instruments.
DAY 3
I was skeptical that Sunday could live up to Saturday's highlights, and early on, that seemed to be the case. I arhrived around 1pm, met a friend, and headed down to catch The Whigs. On our way there, we stopped and checked out about 20 minutes of What Made Milwaukee Famous. Both bands were good, not great. The Whigs grew on me more as their set went on, but I had a feeling that perhaps I had a musical hangover from the night before, as neither band quite seemed to be doing it for me.
I did want to check out the stars of Paul Green's School of Rock who were playing at the Kidzapalooza stage. If anything could rip through my cynicism, it had to be kids covering classic rock anthems, right? Approaching the stage, I heard the kids tearing throw a faithful version of Steve Wonder's "Superstition," with the lead singer sounding remarkably familiar and grown up. Once I got close enough to see, I realized that not only was Perry Farrell singing with the School of Rock, but playing guitar with them was Slash! The drummer and bass player (each of whom were probably 12 years old) kept their cool remarkably well as the foursome ripped through "Knockin on Heaven's Door," "Mountain Song," and "Jane Says." ("This is a song about a girl who was very nice, but then got confused one day," Farrell explained to the kids.) It was an awesome scene. The kids were pumped, and Slash is better than Dave Navarro even during Jane's Addiction songs!
With renewed vigor, I made my way to see Iron and Wine and over the next 20 minutes, nearly passed out. I really like Iron and Wine's albums, but the set wasn't clicking for me today. The sun was in full force, and the mood just wasn't there for them in this particular setting. It really just made me sleepy and in need of a swift kick in the ass.
Right on cue, enter Flogging Molly.
Best band of the day in my opinion. Mix The Clash with The Pogues and add more booze, and this is what you get. Brilliant performance from these guys, and they provided the funniest stage banter of the day with the following exchange:
Singer Dave King: "This next song is about Oliver Cromwell." Crowd: "BOOOOO!"
Yeah, suck on that Cromwell!
Re-energized after Molly's set, I hauled ass down to the other end of the park. (It should be mentioned that the two main stages are about a mile away from each other, which takes it's toll on tubby bastards like myself.) I made it down to catch most of Gnarls Barkley's set. The band was good, although a bit lacking in energy. Also, you could tell the pitfalls of being an assembled band who doesn't tour much as a group. Gaps between songs were frequent and overall the set just wasn't that tight. On the plus side though, Cee-Lo's voice is stunning in a live environment - the guy has better pipes than 90% of the singers at Lollapalooza. And Gnarls also did an outstanding cover of Radiohead's "Reckoner." I left there to see some of Girl Talk on one of the smaller stages, with an obscene crowd overflowing. Girl Talk is a weird live act. On one hand, I love the pop/hip-hop hybrids that the guy mashes up on his albums (The Elton John/Notorious BIG mash being the best). But it's not all that compelling to just see a guy hop around and play with a laptop. That said, the crowd was going nuts and the stage was FULL of people dancing their asses off, so even if the performance itself wasn't as good as the albums, the atmosphere didn't suffer. And there were some sweet Journey mashes, which always pleases me.
Things were winding down so I decided to again head to the north end and meet a friend. We picked a spot right inbetween the 2 main stages on the north end to watch The National first and then just turn around for Nine Inch Nails. The National have really grown on me. They opened for R.E.M. a couple months ago and were rock solid here once again. But I was all about Nine Inch Nails. I've been really excited to see them since they were announced, and I'm not exactly sure why, as I was never hugely . I really wished I could have seen Kanye West as well, but the moment that Trent Reznor literally sprinted on stage and launched into "1,000,000," I was validated in making the right call. I was surprised when "Closer" was unleashed just 30 minutes into the set. (A guy next to me had brought his son, who couldn't have been older than 6 years old. With the son sitting on his dad's shoulders, the dad offered a half-hearted "Cover your ears" to the kid before the chorus, but I doubt the effectiveness of his command.) About halfway through the set, Reznor spent about 20 minutes or so on tracks from the instrumental "Ghosts" set. This didn't go over all that well with most people around me. It spurred a reaction similar to that of Radiohead in similar circumstances on Friday, but I actually liked it. I think most people were expecting the pure nostalgia act they had seen with Rage the night before. The other benefit was that it gave people a chance to catch their breath, and eliminated the possibility of people getting crushed as they had the night before. The mellow mood didn't last, and the intensity ratcheted up with highlights of "Only," "The Hand That Feeds," "Head Like a Hole," and a haunting encore of "Hurt" that served as a perfect ending for a full weekend.
Top 5 Lolla '08 performances: 1. Wilco 2. Radiohead 3. Flogging Molly 4. Broken Social Scene 5. Nine Inch Nails
I talked to a few friends yesterday who are attending Lollapalooza next weekend. While mentioning the probability of meeting up with them at some point during the festival, I was reminded why I don't particularly enjoy group outings at events like Lolla. This is an event that thrives due to the eclectic mix of artists. The appeal to the concert-goer is the ability to map out your own path through the weekend, so inevitably, there will be debates within a group on who to see at any given time. This was not an issue at the Pitchfork Festival, as our group was small and largely uniform in our preferred agenda. Not to mention the choices were much easier (i.e. Do we want to watch The Hold Steady rock our collective asses, or watch the guy in !!! imitate Terry from Reno 911?) Plus with only three stages (as opposed to eight at Lolla) and the giant video screen, the number of choices were smaller and it was pretty easy to navigate the terrain quickly. But Grant Park is a sprawling beast, so there is more of a commitment to be made when choosing once band over another. In a situation like this, a group mentality cannot thrive. The more likely scenario should be that I touch base with friends from time to time while executing my own plan. Does this make me selfish or unnecessarily pessimistic of the possibilities that I can work in harmony with my friends over a common itinerary? Perhaps. But to maximize personal enjoyment at an even that, by it's nature is this over the top, sometimes one must be a loner, Dottie. A rebel.
And yet, even when venturing solo, there is an still internal struggle on who to see when. With that in mind, these are some of the tough decisions to be made over the weekend:
FRIDAY: Mates of State vs Grizzly Bear There are several downsides to massive festivals like Lollapalooza, but bands like these are ultimately what make them worthwhile, because while I like both, I would would probably be on the fence about seeing either a standalone show. They both are masters at the art of pop harmonies. EXPECTED CHOICE: Grizzly Bear. I'm always skeptical about bands whose albums feature harmonies that dynamic, and their subsequent ability to translate that delivery to the live setting. Fleet Foxes did this with stunning ease at Pitchfork, so I'm hoping Grizzly Bear can bring the goods as well. FRIDAY: The Raconteurs vs Bloc Party A classic confrontation here - 2 bands with outstanding debut albums and not as great but still quite good follow-ups. This may be the toughest call of the weekend for me, as I would easily pay to see either band at their own show. Based on live performances that I've seen on TV or online, The Raconteurs seems to have a more energetic stage show, whereas Bloc Party always kinda seems like they're going through the motions - although those motions still move. EXPECTED CHOICE: This will be a game-time decision, but I'm slightly leaning toward Bloc Party, if for no other reason than to be closer when Radiohead follows them on the same stage afterward.
SATURDAY: Broken Social Scene vs Lupe Fiasco Lupe Fiasco's catalogue would seem to translate well to the summer setting, but hip-hop shows all too often result in guys with mics in front of a turntable, and the presentation rarely adds more than the recorded versions. For whatever reason, I've always had a really tough time getting into Broken Social Scene. I find them interesting more than I actually find them enjoyable; there's just something about them I can't explain that leaves me a bit cold. That said, I've heard raves about their live show, and that chick from the Apple ads is in their band! EXPECTED CHOICE: Broken Social Scene, to see if they finally make me a believer. Their set at Lolla '06 supposedly stole the weekend, so maybe the stars are aligned for a repeat performance.
SATURDAY: Wilco vs Rage Against the Machine Oh, Rage...who played the game in the early 90's better than these guys? Their first album was the driving soundtrack to every soccer game I played my sophomore year in high school. I didn't know any 14-year-old boy (myself included) who didn't get a visceral thrill from screaming "Fuck you! I won't do what you tell me!" ad nauseum. Somehow they cloaked their empty lyrics in social consiousness, while never acknowledging that the fans they preaching to were comprised almost entirely of kids who had absolutely no idea who Che Guevara was, and really just liked screaming over and over while Tom Morello ripped shit up. Needless to say, their catalog has not aged well, and they paved the way for Korn and Limp Bizkit, so thanks for that guys! But hey - they've reunited, so I suppose we're expected to give a shit or something. EXPECTED CHOICE: Wilco, I suppose. I really wish someone else was playing opposite Wilco, because although I love them, I've seen them multiple times in far better settings and would like to see someone new. That said, I can't get into Rage's novelty reunion charade. Somebody take notes and tell me if Zach De La Rocha does anything bold and revolutionary, like criticize the President.
SUNDAY: Black Kids vs School of Rock All-Stars I really liked the Black Kids first EP, but haven't listened to their new album yet (though the Pitchfork review of said album seemingly made the blogosphere implode.) Those kids do battle with the youngsters from Paul Green's School of Rock who make me insanely jealous. They get to spend their youth learning how to shred through the history of rock from from Radiohead to Journey in front of thousands, while my formative years were spent cranking out the damn theme from "Newhart" at CYO contests. You win, kids. EXPECTED CHOICE: School of Rock. False advertising alert: everyone in the Black Kids is over the age of 22!
SUNDAY: Nine Inch Nails vs Kanye West The final slot of the weekend features a heavyweight matchup. The man who begs for every album sale he gets taking on the man who asks people to steal his CDs. Kanye's "Glow in the Dark" tour set-up displays an ambition never before seen from a hip-hop act. He's taking a page from the U2 book of calculated theatrics, and I'm a total sucker because I've fallen into the trap and my curiosity is piqued.
In 1992, I looked at Nine Inch Nails the same way I looked at Rage Against the Machine - interesting soundscapes and heavy lyrics that included swearing. Of course I thought The Offspring had staying power back in those days as well, so perhaps I wasn't the best judge of talent. Reznor's stuff still holds up today though - he's survived the flurry of imitators that flourished in the 1990's, and his current DIY ethic of working without a record label and releasing music through unconventional means has given his music a much needed shot of energy. Based on their tour rehearsal footage, NIN looks ready to slay. EXPECTED CHOICE: Nine Inch Nails. In a perfect world, I could watch NIN perform, Kanye would pull a Bonnaroo and run late, and I could see both acts. But I don't live in a perfect world. I live in Chicago, where they threaten to open fire if open-air concerts in the city run past 10pm.
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