A Lesson On Sound Before Spiritualized

Before Spiritualized came on, I wound up meeting a Swedish woman who seemed very drunk, and very excited to see Spiritualized. She explained they'd been one of her favorites since she saw them at a festival -- she didn't know who they were back then, but her friends persuaded her with the promise that “there would be cute boys crying there.” She considered last night her first time seeing Spiritualized, since she really only watched the cute boys cry last time. Anyway, the whole time this conversation was occurring there was this eerie, ambient sound playing from the stage. “You love music, you must understand sound, right?” she asked me. “Uh, sure, I guess?” I replied. And then she told me that somebody like Jason Pierce understands enough about noise and sound to know that this particular sort of queasy high-pitched sound would repel people who weren't fans from walking over to Spiritualized. “Ugh, let's get away from that sound” instead of “Hey, they sound cool, we should check them out.” It does kind of seem like something Spaceman would do.

Spiritualized were good as always, too. They're one of my favorite bands, but they're just not a good fit for a festival setting. It's the one set at Primavera so far where I heard only British accents and no Spanish.

James Blake

Here's another kinda inexplicable one: how is James Blake so huge on the festival circuit? He played one of the main stages last night, and drew a really big crowd. And people lose it for him live. While he injects some more movement into some of his songs live, he's another one who belongs in a theater or club. And somehow, I've only seen him at festivals so far. Still, a James Blake set is a great set, so weird setting aside, still a highlight.

The Black Keys

Alright, I know this is tacky as hell, but I have a soft spot for the Black Keys. Particularly the stuff off El Camino, which I somehow didn't get sick of even when those songs got super over-exposed. I'm still surprised they got as big as they have, but songs like “Gold On The Ceiling” and “Lonely Boy” are the kinds of songs that are built to be played from a massive stage at 12:30AM. Sometimes the Young Classic Rocker in me wins out and I just really like seeing a big rock show like this.

Orchestral Manoeuvres In The Dark

Technically this happened Wednesday night, when there was a free night at one of the Primavera stages, open to the public. But I'm including it in here since I didn't write about that night. This is one of those weird things that I just don't think I'd come across on the standard U.S. festival circuit. I saw OMD, and they were way better than they have any business being these days. Andy McCluskey is only 55, but even so -- it's surprising to hear him sing “Enola Gay” essentially the same as he sounded in 1980. About “Enola Gay”: these guys came out and opened with that, and holy shit. It was kind of a weird feeling to be sitting around the hotel Wednesday afternoon and think “Huh, I'm going to see OMD live, I wonder what that'll be like.” And then that night, when that opening synth line kicked in, they just leveled everything. A crowd of twenty-something Spanish people were jumping up and down, ecstatically singing along to the synth melody. I'm not really sure how I witnessed this scene in 2015, but I'm glad I did. The rest of the set stuck to the hits as well, and they still seemed so into playing this stuff. McCluskey ran around the stage constantly, doing all sorts of contorted dance moves. (Only small gripe: in a set lined with hits they left out “If You Leave,” which, come on -- the synth line in the chorus is one of the best things ever.) “No art. No culture. It's electro-pop tonight, OK?” McCluskey said when they came onstage. They more than delivered.

The Replacements

I already had my “OMG I'm actually seeing the Replacements” moment last September in Queens, but still: this is one of those bands that was massively important to me in high school, who I never thought I'd see reunite (or that I'd want to see reunite necessarily), and it turns out they still sound amazing and every chance to see them is kind of a head trip. And it's sort of weird to see them having so much fun doing it. Paul Westerberg ran onstage to “Surfin' Bird” in the beginning. They joked that they forgot where “C” was on the guitar, they teased “Love Will Tear Us Apart.” “Who wants to hear a song called 'Achin' To Be?' Anyone know that song?” Westerberg asked. “I know a girl--” Tommy Stinson started to reply. “You know a girl...” Westerberg said back. “Right there, she likes the last record.” “It wasn't on the last record, motherfucker ... it's alright, I didn't like [All Shook Down] either.” Replacements shows unfold that way these days, with jokes and weird covers and frenetic blitzes through a ton of music in a short span of time. Hearing “Bastards Of Young,” “Left Of The Dial,” “Can't Hardly Wait,” and “Alex Chilton” grouped close to the end of the main set is crazy overwhelming. Plus they added in “Never Mind,” one of my favorites. It was no less surreal seeing the Replacements for a second time, but it was also just as welcome. They should headline all the festivals.