The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Friday, September 8, 2017 — 5A
Arts
COURTESY OF LOLLAPALOOZA
Festival Report: Lollapalooza succeeds in surprising
As the first music festival
I’d ever been to, Lollapalooza
blew all my expectations out of
the park; all that food, music,
people and excitement, nestled
smack dab in the middle of
Chicago. My only regret is that
I wasn’t able to experience
more; I couldn’t mosh to the
eclectic EDM at Perry’s while
simultaneously absorbing the
fresh new wave tracks at BMI.
I didn’t have the funds or the
time to try every single food
that Chow Town offered. I
couldn’t make it through a day
without at least one frantic pee
break.
The variety of performances
and genres I was exposed to
made me dizzy; if there’s one
thing that I hated about Lolla,
it’s that I simply didn’t have
the energy to bounce through
all four days as energized as I
wanted to be. Grant Park itself
was larger than I expected, and
merely walking from one end
of the park to the other was
enough to tire me out. It wasn’t
until the end of the second
day
that
I
could
navigate
confidently, without fear of
being swept up by the flurry of
people.
As I slowly climbed over
the hill that dipped down to
reveal the Lake Shore stage
for the first time, my legs
were weak with excitement.
Hippo Campus’s chilled down
yet still undeniably energetic
rock welcomed me warmly.
Even though I hadn’t listened
to much of their discography
beforehand,
the
strum
of
guitars and smooth, chiming
vocals sounded exactly like a
cooler, less angry version of the
alternative rock I listened to in
high school. As the sun wove
back and forth under the angry
grey clouds, I sat back and tried
to enjoy what I could before the
rain unloaded on my friends
and me.
I arrived at the BMI stage
just in time for the latter half of
Gibbz’s “Bright Lights,” a song
that’s just as mesmerizingly
radiant as the name hints.
“White out / Fixing all the slow
pokes / Keeping them all ali-
i-ive,’” Gibbz sang, his voice
rising with the short, snappy
bite of the lyrics.
Gibbz’s
self
proclaimed
“electro pop” thrums and buzzes
with a force that is entirely
absent
from
more
acoustic
genres. A cocktail of solid,
weighty bass, sharp buzzing
chords and gliding electronic
tones result in a smooth yet
refreshing
performance.
The combination of Gibbz’s
easygoing personality and the
relatively older audience made
me feel like I was at a low key
outdoor concert rather than at
a music festival.
From the get go, I liked
the
BMI
stage
more
than
any of the other stages I’d
sampled. The smaller venue
meant performances felt more
exclusive. Rather than having
one artist scream at hundreds, if
not thousands of festivalgoers,
there was only room for so
many people, and the best part
of a smaller crowd is that nearly
everyone has a clear view of the
performer.
Gibbz played a few more of
his trademark tracks, including
the
smooth
and
suggestive
“Stay for a While.” His set
ended far too soon.
After scarfing down some of
the best chicken tenders I’ve
ever had (courtesy of Harold’s
Chicken)
and
taking
an
impromptu nap under the trees
by the food stands, I headed to
the Bud Light stage for some
good old fashioned waiting.
I don’t like hip hop. If Lorde
weren’t
playing
after
Wiz
Khalifa, I wouldn’t have even
gone to his set; for much of the
festival, my tactic was to avoid
the huge, super popular artists
simply because it was such a
pain to get anywhere near the
stage. But for Lorde? I’d suffer
through the mosh pit. Heck, I’d
suffer through the mosh pit to
end all mosh pits.
Wiz sauntered out to the
maniacal screams of hundreds
of fans, lit up by the diffused
glow of the afternoon sun as it
shone through the cloudy haze
that hovered over the crowd.
The
bright,
rambunctious
energy was difficult to ignore,
even for me. As “Bake Sale”
boomed over heads and into
hearts,
Wiz
bounced
on
his heels, adjusted his oval
sunglasses and smirked.
Halfway into his set, Wiz
brought out Ty Dolla Sign for
“Paranoid,” an entrance that
was punctuated by a person
next to me turning around and
exclaiming “Ty Dolla Sign?
That man sure can sing!”
The end of Wiz’s set was
accompanied by frantic Lorde
fans pushing towards the stage
and the first faint raindrops of
doom. As the wait ticked away,
the rain fell harder and harder,
until all hope of staying dry
was lost. Some people huddled
together underneath a rain
poncho. Others faced the water
head on, unblinking even as it
turned the ground underfoot
to sticky mud. It was for Lorde!
‘Twas all for Lorde!
We waited almost an entire
hour
longer
than
planned,
and it was one of the most
excruciating hours of my life.
Anticipation grew as the sun
finally set, the sky darkening
overhead.
A splash of red. A blur in
the shadows. When the lights
finally shone, we screamed.
Lorde’s
movements
were
assuredly confident, her eyes
shiny and she was every bit the
icon her music made her out to
be. She launched straight into
“Green Light,” her voice tense
with emotion as violins rang
clear in the background. Just as
she made it to where the build
begins, right before the chorus,
the lights dimmed again and
she stopped.
Over? Already? No way.
Don’t you think that it’s
boring how people talk?
And we were back at it —
people were ecstatic that our
Lorde and Savior was playing
her old songs. While Lorde
swayed, danced, and performed
her heart out right in front of us,
a dancer in a glass box moved
behind
her,
illuminated
by
blue light. Although the stage
provided some shelter from
the rain, the water bounced
off the smooth surfaces of the
equipment and the stage floor
itself. With every pass Lorde
made across the stage, the mist
soaked her until she began
to resemble the soggy fans
clamoring beneath her. She’s
human, after all.
When Lorde finally paused
to greet everyone, it was with
the same quirky flair she’s
famous for: “It’s weird. We’ve
been
getting
this
fucking
crazy weather wherever we
go — wind, thunder, lightning,
rain. And I like to think,
Lollapalooza, it’s because you
and I, tonight, we’re gonna
conjure the spirits.”
We shivered and crowed.
The entire performance was
otherworldly, as if Lorde had
teleported the crowd to another
dimension meant just for us. But
as she went to perform a song
that had never been performed
live, the worst possible thing
happened; the festival got shut
down. While I understood the
reasoning behind the decision,
a small part of me couldn’t help
but stew at how unfair it felt.
The crowd waited around
for a few more minutes until it
became obvious there was no
way Lorde was coming back
out. As I trudged toward the
exit, muddy rainwater soaking
my socks, I’m just grateful to
have seen Lorde at all.
Day two is for exploring.
Now that I’ve had my first taste
of Lolla’s various offerings, my
friends persuade me to widen
my horizons further. As I’m
dragged to the Perry’s stage,
which is in the middle of San
Holo’s set, I’m apprehensive but
also excited.
Hardcore
EDM
fans
are
likely intimately familiar with
the specific styles and nuances
that differentiate EDM artists,
but to me, all of them sounded
pretty much the same; the
flashing, blinding lights, the
spine shaking, quivering chords
and bubbles of bright, exploding
sound. When I screamed, I
couldn’t hear my own voice, but
that’s the appeal, isn’t it?
Perry’s is not for the faint
of heart. But if you can look
past the miasma of sound and
stimulation,
the
energy
is
absolutely unparalleled.
After a few hours of EDM,
I’m wilting again. Another trip
to the food stands for a tasty box
of Mad Social’s poutine leaves
me refreshed and energized
for
Missio’s
performance.
The duo, which consists of
vocalist Matthew Brue and
instrumentalist David Butler,
are known for their fresh take
on punchy, intense electronica.
At the BMI stage, tracks from
their debut album Loner fill
the air with a dark, tumultuous
ambience.
In a later interview, Missio
and
I
talked
about
their
songwriting process and their
hopes for the future.
“I was in love with Tool
and heavy bands [when I was
younger], and I think the way
we just mangle it all — almost
as if if an electronic band
was grunge — I think that’s
why it comes out sounding
like that,” Butler said. “It’s
been
interesting
because
we never really thought of
ourselves as a rock band, but
we connected with a lot of rock
crowds because there’s a lot of
aggression and attitude in what
we’re talking about, but there’s
also aggressiveness in the way
the sound is produced, which
comes from our roots.”
Missio’s
discography
encompasses a huge variety
of soundscapes, such as the
difference in tone and emotion
between the vengeful, intense
“Everybody Gets High” and
the cooler, more even tempered
“Bottom of the Deep Blue Sea.”
Part of that variety is due to the
unique inspirations that Brue
and Butler gravitate towards.
“I think from a melody
standpoint, I get a lot of
inspiration
from
different
modern folk singers,” Bruce
said. “For some reason, those
melodies have been ingrained
into me since an early age,
so
bringing
them
into
an
aggressive pop context is just
different from what I think
people are used to normally
hearing.”
The variety in tracks is
also due to the duo’s relaxed
songwriting process. Rather
than trying to reach a goal track
number, they let songs develop
organically.
“We don’t go into a writing
process or a writing day or go
‘I think we need to write a song
like this.’ It depends on how
we’re feeling and lyrically what
we want to talk about, whether
we’re in a mellow mood or not,”
Bruce said. “It’s just, let’s write
as many songs as possible—let’s
write a song today cause we’re
songwriters and we have to do
that, and whatever comes out
comes out.”
For now, Missio is focused
on staying true to the mission
that the group was founded
on: creative progression and a
commitment to genuine music.
“To have fans that resonate
with us emotionally, that will
grow with us emotionally and
listen to what we have to say is
the dream for every musician,”
Butler said. “To just be heard,
you know. That’s the journey.”
Day three started off quite
a bit later than I had planned.
While my friends had wanted
to see Aminé, we ended up
stuck in the bag line for two
hours, completely missing his
1:50 performance. A tip for new
festivalgoers — when possible,
leave your bag behind, or make
sure to get inside before the
early afternoon rush.
We made it to the Pepsi
stage just as The Japanese
House started their set. Solo
artist Amber Bain’s melodious,
uniquely relaxing, delicately
produced tracks are especially
otherworldly under the shade
of the trees that circled the
stage. For a while, it felt like I
was
submerged
underwater,
listening to the harmonies of
“Clean” from beneath a layer of
shimmering, undulating waves.
As
the
heat
grew
suffocatingly sticky, I went
to go see Glass Animals at the
Grant Park stage. A full hour
in advance and the area was
already packed with sweating
bodies, some of which were
probably waiting for Chance’s
performance at the same place
later that night.
Like
many
other
artists,
Glass
Animals
doesn’t
fit
perfectly into any one musical
genre,
but
they’re
one
of
few bands that have a truly
distinctive, psychedelic sound.
Hearing
the
bittersweet
sadness and interspersed beats
of “The Other Side of Paradise”
performed live was absolutely
enthralling in and of itself, but
combined with lead vocalist
Dave
Bayley’s
zany
dance
moves, the experience was
downright extraordinary.
Glass
Animals
performed
songs off of both Zaba and How
to Be a Human Being while a
humongous golden pineapple
rotated slowly behind them.
They ended their show with
“Pork Soda,” a peppy, fittingly
pineapple related track.
Rather than stay for the
hordes waiting to see Chance, I
decided to turn in early for the
night.
Day four started out both
bright and sad. With a late start
to the day and a mid afternoon
bus to catch, I only really had
time to see one artist, so I went
to the Grant Park stage for the
final time.
The
thing
about
Maggie
Rogers is her joy. It’s evident in
everything she does.
When she ran out onto the
stage, a glittery red blur, she
was smiling so hard that the
entire crowd could feel that joy.
After waving a few times with
both hands, she settled into the
smooth, mellow tones of “Color
Song,” the first track off of her
EP. The understated poetry of
the lyrics combined with the
dragonflies that hovered right
above our heads was idyllic.
Rogers has some of the best
qualities that a performer can
have. She’s both humble and
proud, acutely aware both of
the places she’s been and of the
ways she’s grown: “This is my
first summer playing festivals,
and it’s been amazing. I’ve
gotten to travel all over the
world, and it feels so good to
finally be at home,” Rogers said
during a pause between songs.
As a new performer, Rogers
is a breath of cheerful fresh
air among fellow rising stars.
She played every single track
off of her EP and a few oldies
from her days as a student
at NYU, and even joked that
“The problem with only having
one EP out is that you don’t
actually have enough songs
to fill an hour long set,” while
smiling luminously. Her bubbly
personality didn’t waver once
during her show.
More than anything, Lolla
took the predictability out of
regular musical performances.
The variety of artists meant
you could walk in with a plan
but walk out having seen a
completely
different
set
of
artists.
Perhaps
even
more
importantly,
every
single
person I met in Grant Park was
absolutely thrilled to be there,
from the musicians themselves
to the people helping out at the
Camelbak Hydration Stations.
When I left, scanning my
wristband for the last time, it
was with the certainty that I
would return to Grant Park’s
green pastures once more. With
so many lifelong memories
made in so little time, how
could I resist?
SAMANTHA LU
Daily Arts Writer
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The variety of
performances
and genres I
was exposed to
made me dizzy; if
there’s one thing
that I hated about
Lolla, it’s that I
simply didn’t have
the energy to
bounce through
all four days
More than
anything,
Lolla took the
predictability out
of regular musical
performances
CONCERT REVIEW