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<\/a><\/p>\nDespite its remote location in Manchester, Tennessee, \u2013 a run-of-the-mill post-industrial American highway stop town where Wal-Mart is a central figure in the local economy \u2013 Bonnaroo continues, in its eleventh year, to be the standard bearer for North American music festivals. It may not be as hip as Pitchfork Festival in Chicago, or as sprawling and underground as SXSW in Austin, but the music industry and its critics pay attention to what happens on that farm.<\/p>\n
Bonnaroo, produced by Superfly Presents (who also run Jazzfest in NoLa and Outside Lands in San Fran), grew to notoriety through its welcoming jam band atmosphere, but has since struggled to break out of a stereotype for booking predictable, mainstream acts without a cohesive theme or niche. While it certainly stuck to its roots in 2012 with obligatory sets from Phish, Umphrey\u2019s Mcgee, and SOJA, it also provided a fairly comprehensive snapshot of the current indie music scene. Criticism for Bonnaroo has also stemmed from an alleged ignorance of hip-hop and punk, but with acts this year including Ludacris, Bad Brains, Kendrick Lamar, and The Black Lips, you can\u2019t really complain.<\/p>\n
But I will. Yeah, this is a best-of article, but you\u2019ve read every other blog\u2019s self-righteous opinion by now about exactly why Radiohead was so good<\/a> on Friday night. I hope to give you a look at the people who are making music that matters right now, and an honest opinion about which bands to anxiously await a new single from, and which not to waste your precious internet-scouring time with. My authority on the subject may only be that I saw the festival go down from an \u201calmost VIP\u201d perspective \u2013 yeah, I was in that gated, yet near-empty pocket of breathing room at the front left of the stage. I think.<\/p>\n BLOOMS ::<\/em><\/strong>Phantogram \u2013 <\/strong>Bonnaroo\u2019s line-up this time around was riddled with the aftermath of a year of one-hit wonders, a la Foster The People, The Temper Trap, and fun. This setting provided the perfect test for nubile hit-makers, thrown to the wolves to prove how sustainable their talent really is. If you\u2019ve heard Phantogram\u2019s banger \u201cDon\u2019t Move,\u201d<\/a> you\u2019ve heard their potential. With a club-ready beat jammed with off-kilter rhythms and catchy samples, Sarah Barthel\u2019s soft, seductive catcalls leave us smitten. The duo made their dark, emotive mystique not feel out of place on a humid, summer night in Tennessee. I thought that was an accomplishment in and of itself. Phantogram\u2019s songs are patient and beautiful; slow, sultry grooves reminiscent of a Glasser with raw rap drum tracks and layers of shoegaze dissonant fuzz mixed in. Like an urban, nocturnal Beach House, Phantogram reframed a few styles knocking around the scene with a darker lens and nailed it. As the crowd was gradually lured further into Sarah\u2019s web, I found myself surrounded by full-body nods and stoned mouths gapped in awe. I\u2019m still gawking.<\/p>\n tUnE-yArDs <\/strong>\u2013 Powerful front-women dominated this year\u2019s festival, indicative of the role women play in today\u2019s indie pop world; it seems the music industry is one place in our society where equal opportunity is truly realized. Merill Garbus of tUnE-yArDs exemplifies the rule. Merrill\u2019s enthusiasm is palpable in the genuine expressions painted on her face throughout her performances and the gracious, loving relationship she has with her fans. In a way, each experience seeing tUnE-yArDs is unique because Merill creates the funky Afrobeats that drive her songs on the spot every time with the magic of a loop pedal. I get the impression that if all the band\u2019s equipment was stolen before a show besides that pedal, it\u2019d go off without a hiccup. Their thrifty use of beer bottles and sheets of metal to replace percussion instruments is impressive, along with their improvised intros that politely usher the audience into the next hit. There\u2019s something very tangible and human about this music. It might be her playful, yet subtle and poignant lyrics that pinpoint modern social currents. \u201cWhat\u2019s a boy to do if he\u2019ll never be a gangsta?\u201d \u2013 addressing every white kid who grew up in the suburbs during the 90\u2019s and liked Wu-Tang or \u201cthe worst thing about living a lie is just wondering when they\u2019ll find out\u201d in a song titled \u201cMy Country.\u201d It\u2019s this ability to really be in touch with our culture, accompanying fresh world-pop beats that make me believe this music is internationally marketable. I respect the hell out of these guys, enough to capitalize the correct fucking letters in their name every time I type it.<\/p>\n St. Vincent <\/strong>\u2013 Annie Clark has developed a captivating stage persona centered around her remarkable Berklee-trained riffing chops. Her jarring, strangely offbeat licks sound possessed, and she consequently performs rigid and erratic, as if a puppet controlled by a higher power. Dressed in all black, with a cute linen shirt neatly tucked into leather, studded shorts and textured tights running down to sexy high-heeled boots, she is both a guitar god and a fashion icon. In a world where we are flooded with images of our favorite artists on a daily basis, she blends aesthetic with musical style flawlessly. Clark is no air-headed, pin-up pop star, her songwriting is advanced, odd, and borderline genius. Collaborations can be a judge of the level of artistic company one belongs with and I look forward to spinning her album co-written with David Byrne, Love This Giant<\/em>, due out in September. Her trippy, dissonant soloing style reminds me of Hendrix, and I would never use that comparison lightly. St. Vincent capped her refreshingly rock n\u2019 roll performance with a crowd surf, guitar in hand, reassuring those who got to touch her that she is indeed physically still a human.<\/p>\n The Black Lips <\/strong>\u2013 After opening with \u201cFamily Tree,\u201d<\/a> the first cut off this year\u2019s Arabia Mountain<\/em>, and sending a sweat-soaked and mud-cracked crowd into the classic indie kid jump mosh (we were so thrilled to hear something a little punk), The Black Lips\u2019 lead singer and guitarist Cole Alexander dryly remarked, \u201cwell folks, it ain\u2019t perfect, but that\u2019s rock n\u2019 roll.\u201d It was like the sky broke open and flooded anyone who\u2019s ever felt unease about the computer\u2019s effect on rock with an affirmation that there is hope. We didn\u2019t care that they didn\u2019t care, we were all just in it to have a good time. The Lips play well-written garage punk songs loyal to the godfathers of blues and southern rock; they call it \u201cflower punk,\u201d and as Ian Saint P\u00e9 (the other guitarist and vocalist) drawled it, \u201cY\u2019all know what the first electronic music was? Rock n\u2019 roll.\u201d The boys have tamed a bit since their days of vomiting on the crowd and racing RC cars on stage, but fountains of beer-spit were occasional and flying rolls of toilet paper frequent \u2013 I was also quite impressed by Cole\u2019s ability to spit loogies into the air and catch them in his mouth. The show had a raw energy that was welcome; you could really tell the guys were having fun up there, and their perennial closer, \u201cBad Kids,\u201d left us all bummed that Mac Miller was on deck.<\/p>\n BUSTS ::<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n Dale Earnhardt Jr. Jr. <\/strong>\u2013 With a few exceptions, the era of guitar-driven rock is dying. The road to fame as an indie band in our digital world is to be Internet notable. This is achieved by creating music that is immediately accessible and catchy, as to be compatible with a generation that will listen to 30 seconds of your song to decide if you\u2019re good. This forced-pop phenomenon has led to a scene-wide competition for the quickest, easiest hook, diminished the demand for subtle songwriting, and allowed over-production to strangle character. The result is beat-driven song-blasts crippled by cheap hooks and crowded melodies. In many cases, the unlimited access to music allowed by the Internet hurts bands, because they try to piece together too many influences, too many aspects of our cultural past into one conglomerate that is unfortunately limited by the constraints discussed above. Dale Earnhardt Jr. Jr., a name dripping with irony that isn\u2019t incredibly relevant to them or funny in context, falls victim to these plagues. Swirling heavy dance beats, unaided by Bonnaroo\u2019s consistent over-amplification of the bass; out-of place folk guitar; and cutely iconoclastic pop lyrics result in an imperfect alchemy. Lost in the sea of bodies without a friend as happens occasionally at Roo, I decided to lie down and relax in the adjacent field and felt assaulted by this weird bastard child of Cake and Sleigh Bells. I\u2019m sure they have a super fun and catchy single.<\/p>\n<\/a><\/a>