For more Saul Williams photos, and more from Lollapalooza Day 3, see our Flickr stream.
Midway through Saul Williams’s set, he broke it down: “To be honest, Lollapalooza has such a kick ass lineup that I feel sorry for you,” Williams told the crowd at dusk. “You have to choose between Nine Inch Nails and Kanye. My whole purpose in life is to make music where you don’t have to choose.” Williams has made a career out of auspicious statements like that, which often work well on paper and not-so-much live, but today was different.
Fronting a quartet of guitar, DJ, keys and “hype girl,” Williams played a lot of material off last year’s download-only album (but now commercially available) The Inevitable Rise and Liberation of NiggyTardust! (produced by NIN’s Trent Reznor). And unlike on past albums, within it Williams has found the perfect blend of race commentator, slam poet and confrontational punk rocker.
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See more photos of Jamie Lidell in our Lollapalooza Day 2 Flickr photo stream.
There are some things British techno wizard-cum-soul man Jamie Lidell does not do well. Namely, falsetto. Maybe he likes the way his voice sounds when it’s breaking in the higher registers or what-have-you. So it says something that even with that major flaw, I’ll be damned if there wasn’t a more virtuosic performer on Day 2.
Lidell’s set could roughly be divided into two parallel acts. In one, he plays frontman behind a slightly ironic Stax soul band (keys, guitar/bass, sax/electric flute, drums). I say ironic not because the musicians were wanting in skillz, but because of their outfits (white and red jumpsuits, white robe with flip-flops and Asian trianglulated hat…) For this part of the set, Lidell channels Otis Redding and Stevie, even if all he’s doing is approximating their greatness. Tracks like “When I Come Back Around” or “A Little Bit More” carry a silly, kinetic momentum. Lidell mans the vocoder and “jams” with his robed sax player for surely the most surreal image of Day 2. Lidell’s skinny bod and outfit—blazer with no t-shirt, tight black pants (cute tush, Jamie!)—thick, black hipster glasses—make him look like a cross between Ira Glass and David Cassidy.
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“It’s not anyone’s fault.” Those were the words still ringing in my ears as I left the semi-chaos that was the night’s true headliner (I think it’s safe to say Wilco had fewer fans tonight). Despite—or probably because of—their inspired performance, Rage Against the Machine’s set had major crowd control problems, replete with injuries, near-injuries and an air of foreboding tension.
Performing in front of a giant red star, the band plays right now with scintillating chemistry. Opening with “Testify,” which ended with de la Rocha screaming “The war is right outside your door!” was insane. Then, the sick “Bulls On Parade.” At which point, the thought occurred to me, “This is genuinely dangerous, incendiary music—but in a good way!” And I hadn’t even started to take in the crowd of at least 50,000 before me.
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It’s got to be hard rocking Zen Buddhism at a fest like this (for example, what do the gurus say about the scourge of ironic coochie cutters?). Yes, who else could I be talking about but Mr. One-Hand-Clapping, the Minneapolis singer-songwriter Mason Jennings.
I’ve actually seen Jennings three infrequent times over his decade-long career and much to my relief, but not my surprise, the brother has not changed. A bit. While the rest of Lolla’s roster can be at turns aggro, uber-sensitive, enigmatic or starkly ironic, Jennings is simply flat. And I mean that in a good way.
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Where were the kiddies? Here we are, standing in the hot sun at the kid’s stage, Kidzapalooza, and about five kiddies can be spotted—in a sea of at least a thousand. So why are hipsters and d-bags taking up all the space? It’s pretty simple: Today’s intimate set may be the closest many get to Wilco demigod Jeff Tweedy.
Adjusting to his surroundings, Tweedy played the role of cool babysitter, doling out kid-friendly advice before delivering knowing, adult winks on the side. “I apologize for setting up down here,” Tweedy explained of his decision to set up on the ground below the stage, making him much more difficult to see for anyone more than ten feet away. “I wanted to get closer to the kids,” he says. “But in a respectful way.” Do any kids want to hear Wilco songs? A request comes in for “On and On.” Tweedy: “That’s too serious of a song for you to want to hear.” Later, he warns his listeners about the “adult themes” in Wilco’s “Impossible Germany.” Chuckles ensue. “Heavy Metal Drummer” and an Appalachian folk treatment of “I’m The Man Who Loves You” (dedicated to wife Sue) get their predicted crowd-pleasing treatment, as does “What Light.”
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Most bands touring Chicago know the drill: If you land a gig at the Hideout, Metro or Empty Bottle, you don’t book another show in the area near that date. Doing so cuts the audience in half, disappointing both venues that’ve booked you, and perhaps cutting your own financial take and reputation (assuming you’re one of those bands that likes money). Sounds simple enough, right?
But Lollapalooza, like many other large festivals across the country, makes this unwritten code official with its blackout period—or “radius clause,” in legalese—that, while understandable to some, is causing unease to others around town.
Here’s the deal: For 60 days before and 30 days after their Lollapalooza appearance, Lolla performers are prohibited from booking a show within 250 miles of Chicago (which includes Madison, Milwaukee, Champaign, Indianapolis, Ann Arbor and Iowa City). Does this mean Lolla is decimating the Chicago—or even the Midwest—music scene every summer, taking precious opportunities from small bands and the small venues that employ them? Or is Lolla helping more than it hurts, giving bands some much-needed exposure? I caught up with musicians, club owners and others in the business to get their takes.
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Chalk one up to activist journalism…er, making a phone call. This week I wrote about the rock show purgatory that results from 18 and over shows. Namely, there’s no law - curfew, smoking or otherwise - that should keep out 17-year-olds, though some venues still do. Although House of Blues didn’t know about the legal issue when I called, Michael Yerke, the venue’s vice president of Midwest booking, made good on his promise: HOB will now let 17-year-olds into their 18 and older shows. "I spoke with our legal team, they said it was fine, and that was that," Yerke says. (As I mention in the piece, Reggie’s Rock Club, Subterranean, and Beat Kitchen have already done the same.)
Looks like the very first 17+ show at the HOB is a doozy, too: Ministry’s final tour with the ridiculously awesome Swedish metal band Meshuggah opening. A preview of the Ministry show from TOC will be coming out soon and expect a live review of the Meshuggah set next Saturday.
I expect e-mail love letters from 17-year olds to start rolling my way any second now. (Note to the Chicago Police Department: That would be a joke, yes. Although technically, it is legal…)
It’s the 40th anniversary of Martin Luther King’s assasination today and while others can write about it better, few evoke the King legacy for me like the late soul genius—and Chicagoan—Curtis Mayfield. In addition, Barack Obama’s historic campaign for the presidency is making me—and plenty of others—dig out the ol’ Mayfield classics anew. (Food for thought: "We’re A Winner" , one of many defiantly optimistic songs about black pride of the ’60s, was recorded live with a studio audience in Chicago and went to number one on the R&B charts on March 1, 1968, just a month before King’s assasination. Listen here.)
Point being: We’re living through a Mayfield-heavy time, which brings us to the premiere of a new, expertly produced Curtis Mayfield documentary showing tonight, for free, at 7pm at the Cultural Center.
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In case you couldn’t tell from my preview this week, I think Donny McCaslin is a sick jazz saxophonist. Sick, as in unfairly gifted at his instrument. But in my haste to spread the love about his show, I made a little mistake. This Saturday, Donnie plays two shows:
The first, at the Cultural Center, will be FREE and takes place at 1pm.
The second show, however, is NOT free, despite my listing. It’s actually $12. If you ask me, seeing Donny for $12 is a bargain. In fact, the disparity between what you pay and what you get out of this show is so large that you might as well call it free. But I digress.
Get thee to the Cultural Center or Green Mill this Saturday to see this man!
Have you ever seen the closing bell at the New York Stock Exchange? Before yesterday, neither had I. But in between all the hooker madness and Obama drama, I very nearly missed Philly Soul kingmakers do this. Very zen, if you ask me.
Get to know some more Gamble and Huff and check out the new Teddy Pendergrass play this week.
