Onstage and Off at Lollapalooza

I felt a bit like a middle age voyeur, peeking under the skirt of a bright young thing: my heart pounded, I knew it was wrong, but I yearned to be free-willed and naughty and proceeded anyway. Aided by a few too-many energy-drink-and-vodka combinations, my mind rushed and rebelled from reason.

Except rather than climbing onto an illegal specimen, I was climbing on top of a trashcan and deftly over the railing onto the stage of the Daft Punk set at Chicago's Lollapalooza. This act was illegal by concert standards since these riotously popular electronic DJs are more secretive than most devil-worshiping societies. So I relished as I saw the pharaohs of electro pop rise to their perch a top an immense gleaming black pyramid, surrounded by lattices of white lights, within breathing distance. The sea of clapping, humming people bobbed and undulated to the synthesizers' cadence, as the furious robot-clad duo released 90-minutes of electronic ecstasy. I, however, was hauled off the stage by security guards after only 2 minutes. But it was 2 minutes of living a mist-filled dream, the type that gives an old broad the will to continue to live and gives a young man enough satisfaction to die happy. The thing is, no matter what music you like (for the record, I am not that into electronica), Daft Punk is an unforgettable mystical, haunting spectacle, and this, this pulsing, glowing, sci-fi exhibition, was a hell of a way to kick off a festival.

Such was the end of the first day of the 72 hour musical sweat-fest, nestled in Grant Park, Chicago. Earlier that day, G. Love and Special Sauce, LCD Sound System, the Rapture, Satellite Party, the Polyphonic Spree and Ghostland Observatory respectively drew raucous, waving, chanting crowds. At a festival this large, the eclectic nature of the artists is impressive. If you liked Sri-Lankan-raised Brit rapper M.I.A., you watched her rap, spit and bitch about having a sore throat. Dance-punk titan James Murphy of the infamous LCD Sound System hosted a memorable soul-spanking electro-magnificent show. After sunset, Ben Harper soothed the audience and coerced sweet dreaming.

For those whom didn't party till dawn the night before (I hit snooze 9 times), on Day 2, the Satin Peaches, Pete Yorn, Tapes and Tapes and I'm From Barcelona played early sets to a coffee-drinking crowd. Those who arrived mid-day Saturday had the privilege of relishing the electrifying performance of the revived SilverChair, with front-man Daniel looking thankfully healthy, focused, and tan. New York newbie Lady Gaga, who, in the same style as Peaches, exhibits her own realm of '*#(@-all' in a silver-sequined bra and disco ball, also drew my attention, though I struggle with chick acts that are more thigh-high spectacle than substance.

Cold War Kids proved their label as future idols of new wave American rock with a flawless set and a jam-packed crowd of hipsters under umbrellas. Nathan hopped from piano to guitar with ease, while Jonnie Russell and Matt Maust riffed off each other and Matt Aviero spitting on the floor in between drum beats. (Kids, they are much BETTER than the Walkmen, thank you. Especially live.)

After briefly catching Chicago locals Wax on Radio let loose with sweaty head-swings, their guitars emitting their genre of trippy pop-rock, I fell in love all over again to the Yeah Yeah Yeahs's Karen O with her rock goth goddess and whisper-to-scream tendencies that melds delectably with the garage rock of guitarist Nick Zinner and drummer Brian Chase. Lolla Day 2 closed with slight rain, a stoic performance by Interpol and Muse's intoxicating, hypnotic, distorted creations.

Chicago rap talent Lupe Fiasco had the crowd in uproar on Day 3, while others rooted for Amy Winehouse, because though she don't look supreme (dude someone feed her or send her to rehab for real this time), she sounded like a Supreme, which is good enough for us. Though I was bored with Paolo Nutini's whining pop, and I could barely hear Regina Spektor, I was gleeful by Ben Harper's surprise performance on the Kidapalooza stage. Mid-day, the legendary and leathery Iggy Pop confirmed his rock god status by allowing hundreds to flood onstage during his concert.

Also, the new Australian-New York band MINK's infectious garage rock flair offered a refreshing surge of energy, like a much-needed energy drink. Satellite Party, with whom MINK is touring, also played to adoring fans in the Minefield Stage on Sunday. For those who don't know, Perry Farrell, the former member of Jane's Addiction and current lead singer to Satellite party, was the creative genius who put this whole spectacle known as Lollapalooza into motion. (A quick history lesson, Farrell named the festival after hearing the word Lollapalooza, which means "extraordinary or unusual thing" (it's a real word?), in a 3 Stooges movie. Since 1991, the festival was a traveling show and almost faded to black in early 2000s until it was revitalized in 2005 in Grant Park). Hence, Perry is a must-see live at the festival, with his wiry frame and unabashed crowd pleasing antics. (If you don't see him, you will hear his name on just about every other stage or banner.)
While Peter Bjorn and John appealed to the frolicking boho-hippies of the crowd with their elated, easy electro mixes, most of the crowd succumbed to exhaustion, nursed their weary feet and/or a beer, and swayed lightly to My Morning Jacket.

The festival closed with a grand finale by Pearl Jam. Every single eye was glued to Eddie Vedder, every ear was suspended by his baritone (there were no other bands playing so there was little other options for any Vedder-haters). Since AT & T censored the show, attendees were lucky to hear Vedder's Bush rants live as well as the live fireworks. Again, like Daft Punk, whether you like Pearl Jam or not, Pearl Jam's live show brings spectators to another place far from reality, where one's body pulses with adrenaline and an electric guitar chord resonates in one's mind for minutes to an hour. This sort of transcendental experience is refreshing, reassuring and rare in this jaded digital age where we tend to feel almost nothing about anything and hesitate to spend a dime on the same tune on I-Tunes. But then again, by definition and in Perry's vision, Lollapalooza, is quite an extraordinary and unusual thing.


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Faith-Ann Young    August 10, 2007