Sharon Van Etten

Sharon Van Etten opened her set with "Serpents" and I'm mouthing every word, trying to catch a good angle of her on my iPhone. Ever since Because I Was In Love, I've been hopelessly head-over-heels in love with this woman who somehow turns her wounds into powerful salves for others. I especially love "Serpents" for the way it distills the poisonous and insidious influence of someone else on our very thoughts -- how those abuses stay with us, curled up in corners. She performed a brand new song called "All Over Again." From there, she ran through her extensive catalogue, including another newer track "I Don’t Want To Let You Down" that leads off her forthcoming EP of the same name. Even when she's singing about dark moments, her stage banter is bright and unassuming, including her enthusiasm that she was sharing a bill with Björk, who performed later that night. I hadn't seen Sharon live since the release of Tramp in 2012, and watching "Your Love Is Killing Me" and "Break Me" issue straight from her mouth was moving, even in mid-afternoon heat. Van Etten is such an important figure in the indie rock scene because she's one of very few women completely dominating it, but also because she sings about topics that are far too often taboo or hidden in our culture like abuse and depression. For this rendition of "Break Me," she looped her own voice caught in a ghostly wail, singing lyrics like "He can break me/ With one hand to my head" over this mournful admission. Perhaps Van Etten is strongest when she's laughing at the pain, though by the time she gets to her closer, "Every Time The Sun Comes Up" off 2014's excellent Are We There, we’re all smiling again. --Caitlin

Little Dragon

Little Dragon is one of those bands that I appreciate more from afar than actively listen to but, based on their Governors Ball set, that may have to change. Even though I wasn't terribly familiar with them, I felt compelled to make sure that I made it to the grounds in time to catch some of their set, and I'm really glad that I did. Yukumi Nagano is a perfect front for the band, and their woozy, forward-momentum pulsating seems tailor-made for a festival setting. They occasionally wandered off into whispered abstraction, but they were largely focused on the immediate pleasure that, even for not knowing that many songs, it was easy to vibe with the whole thing. The next artist to perform on the same stage as Little Dragon was Björk, and I couldn't help but think the few Björk obsessives that were waiting out would be extremely satisfied with what they saw. --James

Future Islands

Future Islands blew up last year partially because they had one of the songs of the year in "Seasons (Waiting On You)," but also, crucially, because of their live performance. It was their viral network TV debut from Letterman that really ignited their 2014, and that performance went viral because of the idiosyncratic presence of frontman Samuel T. Herring. I saw these guys three times last year -- it's almost always been pretty much the same set since Singles came out, which means each time you can rest assured you're going to see something that will show you why Future Islands rapidly garnered such a live reputation. Yesterday at Gov Ball was no different. Stuffed into the Gotham Tent -- like last year, the festival has a tendency to put people on this stage who are far too big for it, resulting in a packed crowd sprawling out from underneath the tent -- Future Islands ran through an hour long set primarily comprised of the best tracks from Singles. This stuff feels custom-built for the kind of propulsion you need by the second afternoon of a festival. "Spirit," "Sun In The Morning," and "A Dream Of You And Me" were all dutifully present and anchoring the set; and, of course, there was "Seasons (Waiting On You)," though for some reason they seem to refuse to close with this, and they should really close with this at a festival because it'd be a huge moment. No matter: even though I was outside the tent, the charisma Herring brings was palpable, and I'll take any chance to see these guys do their thing. --Ryan

Björk

Björk stormed the stage at Governors Ball dressed like a human butterfly. Or was it a moth? Or was it a fly? The Icelandic artist has never ceased to present audiences with gorgeous, puzzling visuals to accompany her thick, orchestral creations. Her live shows are notoriously multimedia, as the 97-minute concert film that accompanies her 2011 album Biophillia illustrates. The problem with presenting a set of this scope in the early evening at an enormous festival is that everyone is exhausted from the prior sets and eagerly anticipating the actual headliners. So while she transcended the earthly sphere, floating and dancing through her gauzy, heartbreaking songs off Vulnicura, most of the crowd watched rather listlessly, or defected to various other tasks. Considering her first four songs were all pulled straight from Vulnicura, it was indeed a task; confronting the dissolution of a relationship is tough when it's yours, or when you're close to the individuals involved. Confronting a song like "Family" via Björk’s physical presence, a woman who has been visualizing herself as a literal walking wound, is difficult, to say the least. The presence of her all-white full orchestra and an ever-evolving slew of insect, slug, and slime images fleshed out the show's energy, but the crowd wasn't really able to reciprocate Björk's presence in any way. Not that she seemed to have any real sense that an audience was there at all. She is one of those performers who seems like she would completely relish every element of her elaborate show even if no one showed up. There's a sense as she sings, prances, and leaps that our presence really has no effect on her art; all of this is truly for her. This can be both good and bad if you're anyone but Björk. While it's cool to watch an artist function in such a self-sufficient mode, it also just wasn't a very fun experience as a spectator. Later in the set, she dug up some old gems like "5 Years" -- which she hasn't played live for half a decade -- and closed out with the stunning "Hyperballad." That song came out in 1995, twenty years ago, which means it is probably older than the majority of the people in attendance at this year's festival. And so Björk remains, inaccessible and incandescent, a dominating force in her own little world, even if no one else notices. --Caitlin

SBTRKT

The Gotham Tent is something of an anomaly at Governors Ball. Whereas the rest of the stages spill out into open fields, this one is more enclosed, with a set border and size that gives it more the feeling of a big club than an expansive festival environment. All of my favorite performances at Gov Ball over the past few years have been there -- Crystal Castles, Azealia Banks, Sleigh Bells -- and last night's SBTRKT set certainly ranks among them. The star-studded Wonder Where We Land never really clicked with me, and the newer songs were still the weakest part of the night, but he wisely mixed in a lot of older material (plus a dope Radiohead cover) to make for a memorable experience. He also benefitted from being in New York, and appearances from Ezra Koenig, Caroline Polachek, and Sampha added to the excitement for the night -- all of them were on point, and a nice respite in the otherwise DJ-heavy set. The only conspicuous absence was Little Dragon's Yukimi Nagano, who also played the festival -- when SBTRKT did "Wildfire" towards the end of the night, she was nowhere to be found, and you could tell the crowd was a little disappointed. But other than some maybe unrealistic expectations, SBTRKT exceeded mine. I had kind of written him off as a one-album-wonder after his sophomore album failed to gain traction, but I'm now a lot more interested in seeing what he comes up with next. --James

Ryan Adams

Once upon a time it would've been hard to picture Ryan Adams' current live presence solidifying quite as it has: backed with his still new-ish band the Shining, he's settled into a mode of stoned, jammy gigs full of slow-burners and a handful of the most perfect guitar tones around. Last night's set had a little something for everyone, managing to touch on moments from throughout his solo career. Last year's excellent self-titled might've been a little underrepresented (though he did play three songs from it), but it was also pretty cool to see Adams play what would essentially for him be a greatest hits set. For me, the highlights were, as always, when he plays stuff from Cold Roses -- last night it was the title track, "Let It Ride," and "Magnolia Mountain." Aside from it possibly being my favorite DRA album, these songs -- in the mellowed, warmed sprawl of their current iteration -- sit best out of any of his past work amongst the man's new material and his whole general ethos these days. The other stunner for me was finally getting to hear the dramatic live version of "I See Monsters," but the crowd really went for "When The Stars Go Blue" and "New York, New York." Even when playing comparatively up material like "New York, New York," Adams' set did have the feeling of a kind of reprieve or lullaby for a Saturday night set -- the contemplative, hang-with-your-friends jam session vs. Deadmau5's party across the festival grounds. Adams noticed that, too, making sardonic comments about his onetime-supposed-collaborator and electronic music like "Try to make this song on your fucking iPhone," and "Thanks for choosing rock 'n' roll tonight, thanks for choosing humans." Adams was joking around all night, though. That's the weird balance of his shows -- you're going to get a lot of slow, sad songs with some of the most moving melodies, but Adams is going to play them in front of a stage decorated with vintage arcade games, a Dr. Pepper machine, and giant, cartoonish amp cabinets. He's a fun, quirky person to see play, and then he'll just throw out these moments that are so weirdly emotive. Like when he improvised a song with the chorus "Raise your hand in the air if you had a hot dog tonight," but then ended the whole thing with: "New York, I love you, you're gonna be alright." And then he closed with "Come Pick Me Up," and everything did feel alright. --Ryan