It was hot. Michael Franti played AC/DC and TV on the Radio rang out like a bell. A very sweaty bell.
But then…. Dun, dun dun!.
The sun set and the haze rose over the Fleet Foxes. It was like listening to The Beach Boys echo off a snowy mountain. With more immediacy than their album, they laid out an acoustic wall of sound. The first half of the set was tight and sticky. They had more than enough thump to keep your heart beating. The harmonies were set out like the rungs on Jacob’s Ladder. Just as this tuned in listener’s feet were about to leave the ground, a jab from the left.
Thievery Corporation‘s heavy beats were assaulting the show. The mix of the two was certainly a harsh, the first taste of fox meat is enough to make me jones for a full concert with less interruptions and more green. An absolute must see for the mellow set.
Our posse had split. Some taking the Thievery Corporation pounding, which was very serviceable, I’m told. I prefer my Shaolin Satellites while laying prone in pitch-black nirvana. The following act on the main stage was M.I.A. Last years performance came on the heels of a new offensive by the Sri Lankan government against the Tamil Tigers, a terrorist group that her father has played an important role in. That show had an intensity and disjointedness panned by many, but something you had to see to believe. One onlooker at that show was worried he had stumbled into a terrorist recruitment event. A year later and the Tamil Tigers are almost done. Expectations were high and in her own DIY fashion, she did not disappoint. Wearing protests against her music as an honor, she pounded out a multi-media response. She used the sample of a crying baby, possibly her own newborn. Her finger prints were on every piece of the show and that authenticity added humanity to M.I.A.’s unique blend of house-hop beats and British Tamil ex-pat flavor.
Back at the outdoor stage, it was Band of Horses. They already posses a fist full of excellent songs and their tight performance certainly does not disappoint. The Funeral marked what was possibly the single best song this marinaut heard all weekend. And while all the songs had spark and reached a great climax, there is a little bit of sameness across the set. The formula works, but sometimes just a twist of lime brings out the rest of the flavor.
With much meandering around the grounds at Coachella (which really are drenched in psychoactive goodies) we ended up on the doorsteps of legends. The Chemical Brothers. Possibly the greatest electronic act of the last 10 years. A few years ago I burned a spliff dead center at their set at Coachella. A pilgrimage worthy of any self respecting green thumb. This year, however, was a DJ Set. I had been warned before hand that it was different, but listening to The Chemical Brothers working it out at such massive volume would still be worth it. But it was not to be. While a truly masterful take on club DJ’ing, it falls short of that cerebral tickling vibe that comes from the full Chemical Brothers experience.
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