Courtesy of Coachella
No need to bury the lede – I’m not sure if Aphex Twin was the “best” set I saw all weekend, but it was certainly the one that most thoroughly reduced my brain to a quivering, sizzling mass of pink goo by the time it was over. I imagine they had to close the Mojave at an unusually early time (off by 10:35 p.m.) so they had time to scrape the attendees off the grounds in time for the next day. Richard D. James’ records have always interested me as pieces of art and electronic music history, but to be honest, he’s never someone I’m going to just throw on for a casual listen.
Courtesy of Dancing Astronaut
His live set, though, was something else: a hectic mix of razor-tipped breaks, high-BPM acid house, industrial machine-music, and tracks that sort of resembled music but really seemed more like chaos and noise engineered from the year 3000 specifically to disorient and disturb, with the titanic “Lisbon Acid” being an actually recognizable highlight. And the visuals, by anonymous artist Weirdcore, were likely the best I saw this weekend. At multiple points throughout the show, the video screens would pick up the faces of attendees in the crowd and at the rail, throw them up behind Aphex, and twist and distort them into shapes and visages that leaned towards the trippy and slightly into the demonic. Or maybe it was just the drugs—I showed my girlfriend the below video and she just laughed at me. You decide.
I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the set that Four Tet threw down just before Aphex. Continuing his recent string of shows with no lights, the Mojave was bathed in darkness, the only lights emanating just from Kieran Hebden’s decks. It gave his surprisingly grimy, turntable-heavy house set a sinister, sweaty vibe that the crowd was thoroughly into, as tracks ranged from Boys Noize and Skrillex collab Dog Blood to Armand Van Helden to a wide range of his own tracks and a discofied remix of Bicep’s “Opal” to close. Likely the best straightforward DJ set I saw all weekend, save for a certain French guy playing tomorrow. Don’t take my word for it: listen here: https://www.mixcloud.com/GrooveArchives/2019-04-13-four-tet-coachella-festival/
Courtesy of Debi Del Grande
When it came to actual live instruments, Saturday was a mixed bag. I opened the day with some good old fashioned indie pop at up-and-coming act Wallows, playing the first show of their new North American tour but hardly showing any jitters—the fact that this group of 20-somethings have been playing for nearly a decade probably had something to do with it. Orlando duo SALES (representing my hometown) were a more laidback vibe, but a far livelier set than I expected given my tepid reaction to their somewhat sleepy stuff on record. But I still can’t get into Hop Along live, a voice that to me is one step above nails on chalkboard, and acts like Ty Segall & White Fence and FKJ were forced into roles that didn’t really suit them: the former playing on the blistering hot Outdoor Stage when they needed to be noodling in a tent, FKJ playing to an unfortunately too-packed house that needed far more room to groove than was possible.
One band, however, persistently confused me. At times, I thought Weezer was in on the joke, sending up their own image and the very idea of a festival main stage band, going hard on the ostentatious guitar solos and Rivers Cuomo’s absurd tie-dye shirt (the obligatory “Beverly Hills” barbershop quarter into the Happy Days/”Buddy Holly” intro helped. At others, the irony felt more than a little forced, though, in particular the Tears for Fears cover and “No Scrubs”, with Chilli’s guest appearance, felt like desperate attempts at relevance rather than the well-intentioned jokes they appear to be. I guess that’s to be expected—Weezer and Cuomo in particular are more parodies of themselves than an actual band at this point, something reinforced by a setlist that was pretty much straight hits and bad covers. But hey, Weezer does have a lot of hits.
Billie Eilish, though, knew exactly who she was. Her primetime slot on the Outdoor Stage had been billed as something of a coming-out party for the recently minted pop star, an effectively headlining slot for the second-largest stage at North America’s preeminent music festival. The crush to get close to the stage to see her reflected that, and Billie delivered, bringing a production set that was something close to an Exorcist homage to soundtrack the thick bass grooves of her new album When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go? “Bad Guy” for the first time live was an experience, but “Strange Addiction” was when the crowd really got into it, moving as one sweaty mass across the grasses. There were some miscues, for sure—at one point, Billie forgot some of the lyrics to “All The Good Girls Go To Hell,” while the sound problems that plagued multiple Coachella artists this week most prominently reared their head Saturday here. But she’s only 17 – Coachella should start prepping the Main Stage for her in two or three years if this reception was anything to go by.
People could be forgiven for being a little disappointed with Tame Impala, Saturday’s headliner that many thought were an unworthy fill-in for Kanye West; after all, this would be the fourth time they’ve played Coachella in just a decade. And yes, Tame still sounds like they’re coasting off the success of 2015’s Currents, having to play a set in that twilight between their old hits and the imminent release of a new album. But if you thought they weren’t going to take advantage of the massive production values inherent in a Main Stage set and a still sizable crowd of degenerates swinging in from Billie Eilish, Aphex Twin, and more, you don’t know Kevin Parker very well. Sure, there were only two new songs amidst a set that veered very little from the songs they’ve been playing at every festival post-Currents, but Tame is booking these headlining gigs for a reason. The insane visuals (the lasers shooting out of Parker’s eyes during “Elephant” being a particularly nice touch); Parker’s flawless vocals, seemingly triple- and quadruple-tracked at times; a crack band that never seems to endure a hiccup; this is why they get paid the big bucks. Tame is still one of the best bands in rock – I just wish their album had come out a tad earlier, so we could be treated to a new acid trip, rather than rehashing our favorite memories of the past.
Quick Hits
Courtesy of Coachella
Friday | Sunday
