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Thursday, June 6, 2019
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com ARTS
Amid earth-shaking thunder-
storms and sweltering heat, New
York City’s Governors Ball start-
ed and ended with a bang — liter-
ally. The third and final day of the
outdoor music festival on Ran-
dall’s Island came to a close with
performance cancellations, a tor-
rential downpour and hundreds
stranded as they awaited a break
in the storm. But before Mother
Nature arrived in all her won-
drous fury (some cosmic karma,
perhaps, for all the littered beer
cans), there was Saturday night.
And Saturday night at the Gover-
nors Ball was glorious.
With several stages and an
extensive list of performances
to choose from, the Governors
stage in particular beckoned with
promises of Kacey Musgraves’
sweetheart country, The 1975’s
techno rock ‘n’ roll and Florence
+ the Machine’s otherworldly
performance.
Musgraves took to stage first,
adding a dose of country flair to
the evening lineup. Dressed in a
matching floral top and pants,
her outfit was reminiscent of the
rhinestone-studded
glamor
of
previous country icons. Standing
atop the Governors stage, Mus-
graves put on a show, the crowd
eagerly singing along to her mel-
low tunes. As she serenaded the
sizable audience with her hit
“High Time,” fans could be seen
“swimming” through the crowd
in an amusing display of misheard
lyrics, mistaking the line “It’s
high time” for “It’s high tide.”
Musgraves’s songs, although
beautiful, were ill-suited for an
outdoor festival; much of her per-
formance lacked the electricity
and energy needed to amp up a
crowd. However, Musgraves put
forth a good effort to engage with
fans, throwing in some admirable
(but flat) remarks about the start
of Pride mMonth. Her heart of
gold, too, was on full display as
she reflected on promoting posi-
tivity and love — the belief that
love can find a way fueling her
music-making. But as fun as it
was to “yee-haw” and “hell -nah”
alongside Musgraves as she tried
to add a spark to an eager but
stifled crowd, the performance
itself was ultimately lackluster.
Where
Musgraves
failed,
however, British pop-rock band
The 1975 succeeded. The band
rolled in like thunder and struck
the crowd with lighting. Every-
thing about the performance
was
energetic
and
colorful:
Behind the band, a kaleidoscope
of lights and images played on
stage, mirrored by the setting
sun, which illuminated the sky
with rainbow hues (a natural
phenomenon that seemed a cos-
mic salute to Pride month).
The smell of stale beer and
press of sweaty bodies aside, as
The 1975 played the crowd in an
almost sinful display of musical
mastery, everything was over-
whelmingly beautiful. A “New
York moment” is what I would
call that Saturday night: a rare
experience of the intimate, innate
connection between strangers in
New York City.
Lead singer Matt Healy was a
sight to behold, dancing, grinding
and gyrating like a pro — at risk of
offending the king of rock ‘n’ roll,
Healy could have given Elvis Pre-
sley a run for his money. About
three songs into the band’s hour
long set, Healy stripped some lay-
ers off to the animalistic cheers
of the audience. “I know, we
keep getting better, right?” Healy
called out, at once arrogant and
delightful. The second half of the
set saw Healy’s swagger on stage,
accompanied by a cigarette in one
hand and a cocktail in the other: a
true man of the people.
What was most enthralling
about The 1975 was the deep
sincerity with which they per-
formed each song. Nothing about
their performance suggested they
were going through the motions.
No, Healy and the rest of his
beloved band made every song an
independent, emotional experi-
ence. By the time the band finally
left the stage, the audience vis-
ibly deflated, a mix of disappoint-
ment and utter exhaustion. It was
like The 1975 had held the crowd
in some hypnotic state, where
release was only granted when
the band was good and done.
The
1975,
without
doubt,
improved upon Musgraves’s ear-
lier performance by leaps and
bounds. As the clock ticked on
and the final rays of sunshine
flickered out, Governors Ball
came to a quiet pause. Or, more
accurately, it was the calm before
the storm.
Then, out of the darkness came
Florence + the Machine.
Florence herself arrived bare-
foot, dressed in a sheer gown
like a heroine from a gothic
novel. Her fiery red hair swung
unbound behind her. The night
was dark, but not fearful; there
is never room for fear in the pres-
ence of Florence. As the beat
dropped, she raised her arms up
to the sky as if in offering, and
then, there was light — literally,
it wasn’t until 30 seconds into the
first song that any lights turned
on at all.
The entire experience was
otherworldly. Florence + the
Machine always have a dreamlike
style, with songs that are lyri-
cally beautiful and complex. But
to see Florence perform in person
is something else entirely. She
seemed almost ethereal; a wild,
beautiful creature, running and
dancing across the
stage. Her move-
ments sharp, then
suddenly soft and
flowing.
With
every song, every
note, every word,
Florence
chan-
neled the energy
through
her,
as
if her body was a
mere conduit for
some greater power. Take the
music away, and Florence could
have been a body possessed in a
horror movie — not horrifying,
but as if there was something else
present on stage with her.
Her
music,
powerful
and
strong-willed, seemed a comple-
ment, rather than a contradic-
tion, to Florence’s sweet, gentle
personality. As she spoke for the
first time to the audience, Flor-
ence gently admitted her own
anxiety about speaking to such a
large crowd. In response, jubilant
cheers and cries of love erupted
almost violently from the audi-
ence. It was like a harsh, demand-
ing tug on your soul: No, Florence,
do not apologize or be afraid! It
seemed divinely unjust for a per-
son so beautiful (both inside and
out) to be humbled by the masses
that often weep and whisper her
name like a prayer in their dark-
est moments.
And really, it was as if Flor-
ence was a goddess. Every word
she spoke, the audience strained
to hear, catch and hold within
their hearts; every request was
treated like a commandment.
Florence asked us to turn to one
another and embrace each other
— so we did. She asked us to give
words of love and positivity to
each other — a girl yelled in my
ear that she liked my scarf, and I
hugged her and waxed poetic on
her earrings. Florence asked us to
put away our cell phones — every
screen switchedblinked off.
The magnificence of Florence
+ the Machine was a combination
of evocative music and a power-
ful stage presence. Audiences
react and take their cues from
the artists on stage; an engaging
artist makes for an engaging per-
formance. Florence, more so than
Musgraves or The 1975, gave her-
self utterly and completely to the
moment, to the music. Her scant
dress and bare feet heightened
the connection between musi-
cian and audience member. It
was as if Florence rooted herself
to the stage, to the very ground.
It was watching Florence on the
jumbo screen kiss the forehead of
a young man at the
front of the crowd;
desperately
clasp
hands
with
the
arms that reached
out to touch her;
sing
among
the
audience with a
flower-crown a fan
gave her that made
Florence
seem
both larger-than-
life, but also closer and more inti-
mate than any artist before.
Florence told the audience
that she wanted everyone there
to share and indulge in an expe-
rience. She wanted to create
something that would stay with
us — with her — and mark the
moment. Together, we did. No
one who cheered for an encore
at near-midnight will ever for-
get the evening of Saturday, June
1, 2019, spent sweaty, tired and
cramped on Randall’s Island,
awaiting that moment we would
never forget. The moment we
would tell our friends, our family
and maybe one day our children,
and grandchildren, and nurses at
the senior living facility.
The Brits bring down the
house at Gov Ball in NYC
MADELEINE GANNON
Daily Arts Writer
FESTIVAL COVERAGE
GETTY IMAGES
Then, out of the
darkness came
Florence + the
Machine.