Skylar Spence Understatedly Brings The Funk

Liquid disco. Glimmering, squishy funk. Aquamarine electronic dance-pop. You could use a lot of colorful language to dress up Skylar Spence's music, but the most essential adjective to tack onto it is "good." The artist formerly known as Saint Pepsi (and Band To Watch alum) goes by the real name of Ryan DeRobertis, and in preparation of his debut LP Prom King, due out this fall, he's added a full band to help his music leap to life. That means bigger chorus jumps, fuller keyboard textures, and some honest-to-gosh Prince-inspired guitar parts -- all from a quartet of kids whose cheeky smiles revealed their genuine excitement and happiness to be there. Brand new tune "Can't You See" (one of last week's 5 Best Songs) popped like a cup of fizzy soda, and even old standby "Fiona Coyne" seemed like so much more than just a dance tune with four guys rocking out to it on stage. I can't wait 'til September when the Prom King officially takes his crown.

Gary Clark Jr. Fashions A Swamp From Guitar Noise

Gary Clark Jr. is not a chameleon. He might seem like one, flipping the Jimi switch to cry out colossal string buzz, then slowing it down with a Clapton soundalike right after. For that reason, it's easy to peg him as just another blues-guitar virtuoso, as if they're a dime a dozen. Clark's true power lies in his restraint. His solos aren't flashy or overly orchestrated because he came up playing gigs in Austin as a teen, not posting YouTube videos of rehearsed messianic Jimmy Page finger work in his bedroom. Performing on the main stage at Firefly, even in the unforgiving midday sun, makes total sense for Clark, whose music is about as festival-ready as it gets. The sludgy, dripping blues he brings is still captivating because of how he builds to his next movement, especially on the show-stopping "Numb." Clark couldn't do it without his masterful band, including a second guitarist dressed like Stevie Ray Vaughan's ghost, whose technical work was flashier than Clark's. But that's the way he wants it. It's Clark's swamp; we're all just gatoring around in it.

Halsey Rings In A New American Era

I didn't catch all of Halsey's set, but as soon as I walked over about halfway through, she mentioned Delaware's recent decriminalization of marijuana before launching into "New Americana." The song reaches to be an anthem of sorts for young broke kids railing against the current power class, and while it might be a bit too on-the-nose for its anger to really succeed, the chorus is fun (and really funny) to sing loudly: "We are the new Americana/ High on legal marijuana/ Raised on Biggie and Nirvana." Everything we feared about Hot Topic T-shirt culture seems to have come true, but it's better to just embrace the change of tide. Mall kids are now ascendant pop stars. Better to climb aboard than get ditched at the carousel.

Sturgill Simpson Cuts Through The Treacle

Firefly is not an EDM festival, but it wouldn't be unfair to characterize its denizens as EDM kids -- or maybe only half-EDM kids, with Bud Light bottles in backpacks instead of acid tabs and molly. But for an hour on Saturday afternoon, even the more stereotypical festival bro was grabbin' a pardner to do-si-do in the middle of the mud to Sturgill Simpson, who's really an anachronism at this particular festival. While modern country has fused with EDM and homogenized with hip-pop, Simpson keeps alive the spirit of lone-wolf, hard-travelin', traditional country -- all amid a wash of club DJs and pop generalists. His set is ferocious but fun and impeccably sequenced, blending frisky barroom jams with lower-key balladeering in pairs of two. One of the Firefly crowd's biggest strengths is finding what they like in the acts they don't know. In Simpson, they found a good time, and I'd bet he found the same in them.

Spoon Turns An Entire Festival "Inside Out"

Pixar's newest film Inside Out has already amassed a Metacritic score of 93. But no matter how wonderful it might be (I haven't seen it yet), it's got nothing on Spoon's "Inside Out," the best track from last year's They Want My Soul and perhaps the best song the band's ever penned (despite what more trusted Stereogum voices than me might say). When Spoon glided into the tune near the end of their set, a seismic shift took place; Britt Daniel dropped his ever-cool nonchalance and ventured out to the front lines of the crowd, howling on the verses until his voice cracked and pulled the way it does when he really goes for it. Keys players Eric Harvey and Alex Fischel traded cloudy bursts during the song's majestic middle passages. Jim Eno brought the boom-bap. And by the end, all had hands in the air, swaying and reaching for the song's magnetic center -- that piece of soft heaven assembled from processed sounds and three basic chords. The rest of their set was righteous, of course: a Cramps cover, an armada of classic Spoon hits up front, etc. But none escaped the intense gravity of "Inside Out." None wanted to.