ACL Concert Synopsis

Vampire Weekend v. Me. What is more obnoxious than a bunch of elite kids playing mellotrons and harpsichords and singing like Sting? You got me. That the kids don’t stand a chance may be a sound general proposition, but I can do them one better—I don’t stand a chance (of enjoying this).

Manu Chao. Never heard of Manu Chao? Here’s a synopsis. He’s a Spanish dude from France who likes marijuana and British punk rock. Accordingly, most of Chao’s songs begin with vaguely reggae-esque riffing and eventually devolve into generic punk rock singalongs. His oeuvre includes such hit songs as Tequila, Sexo, y Marihuana and Me Gusta Marihuana, Me Gustas Tu? Once my concert mate confirmed that marihuana in fact means marijuana, it became clear to me that this guy isn’t merely fucking around. He’s actually the Spanish Jimmy Fucking Buffet. Now Jimmy Buffet isn't cool, but that's not my main problem with Chao's show. Rather, his choice of pronouns was a little too informal for the occasion. The highlight of this show was watching people step in a huge mud puddle and taking a long time to realize it because they were too fucked up.

Artist's Rendition of Manu Chao at ACL

Beck—Jesus, I’ve never been more bored in my life. Most of his popular songs, when stripped to their workable, live components, reveal a piddling silliness better suited for the 11:30 slot at the Austin Kiddie Limits stage (ACL’s pun, not mine).

Fleet Foxes—Ooo, harmonies. Neato. My mom would have liked this one before she got into her Nickleback phase (no kidding). This is the kind of music that discerning parents actually want their kids to listen to. If you buy a James Taylor album on Amazon, it recommends this band. This is the soundtrack to post-college, responsible moderation.

MGMT v. Spiritualized. Spiritualized, by contrast, is the soundtrack of your ad hoc deathbed repentance after a life of total excess. The sun sat while J Spaceman sang of his enthusiasm for life along with his fears of dying lonely and godless. There were crescendos and then, of course, there were the proper rock freakouts (FUCK YES). But that the band’s gospel singers kept on singing, and smiling, and dancing in unison through the dissonance, I think, is some of the best evidence of just how much this band FUCKNG DESTROYS.

Actually, I almost missed Spiritualized trying to wade through the INSANE crowd for MGMT. Who knew those fuckers were so popular with the teen crowd? Obviously not the planners, who put the band on a side stage. Could you say that MGMT shocked mgmt like an electric eel? I suppose, but please don’t.

Spiritualized-Come Together

CSS. Skipping this show would have been my boyfriend (it turned out Man Man was playing). But it wasn’t all bad—I did learn that rich kids from Brazil also look like they’re from Brooklyn. Flannel, skinny jeans, and Chuck Taylors are to itunes rock what blue vests and helmets are to UN peacekeepers. Oh yeah, and apparently it was hot on stage too. Thanks a lot, you ipod-hocking weirdoes.

NERD v. David Byrne. Loser: Me. This was tough. I love, I mean absolutely LOVE two David Byrne works—Remain in Light and My Life in the Bush of Ghosts. But I reckoned that his catalog is so vast, and that those were so long ago that I wasn’t going to get much of what I wanted. Because I’m an idiot, I forget that David Byrne and Brian Eno just put out a new album together. Also because I’m an idiot, I neglected to look at the after party list, because he did a show exclusively of his music with Eno. Fuck me. Also, I almost choked on a cold, dry falafel. When my concert mate said he didn’t want his, I almost choked on another cold dry falafel. I mean, they should have just poured chickpea flour down my throat. I'd have let them.

Antilbalas v. the Bush Administration. Never forget the old (fine, brand new) saying that you should always be skeptical of a show introduced by the local NPR station’s jazz guy. The band plays jazzy funk with political or social commentary interspersed throughout, beatnik style. They were proficient musicians and at the very least gave the crowd a good excuse to get quite high. Nevertheless, I’m always a little irritated by musicians who feel like they have free license to politick. Besides, in the context of ACL, we can safely presume that the musicians and much of the audience are voting for Democrats. Therefore, talking politics on stage takes on the same character as other patently obvious, out-of-context, uncontroversial statements, such as:

• This sure is a big crowd.
• I like food!
• I can’t help but notice that, from my vantage point on the stage, it appears that lots of individuals in this crowd are wearing pants and/or enjoying marijuana cigarettes.

Rereading those statements, I would actually love it if a band said things like that. It can be my thing.

Erykah Badu—The oddness of Erykah Badu makes her absolutely intoxicating. That said, here’s the real story for this show. I stood next to Landry, Lyla (yup, she’s hot in real life too), Smash Williams, and Noannie (hotter in real life) from Friday Night Lights. I didn’t say anything or try to get a pic with them, reasoning that they were entitled to their privacy and anonymity. I realize now in hindsight that they’re really not that famous and that, moreover, they might find it disconcerting that no one recognized them, the crowd being their show’s demo and all. Hopefully, this is suggestive of a considerate audience, rather than the show’s untimely demise.