Blogs

Tanya Wright

For more photos, check out the slideshow.

The Spin was pleasantly stunned to see a monstrous turnout for How I Became the Bomb and KinderCastle's tribute to Out of the Blue when we rolled up on Mercy Lounge Friday evening. The unmistakable chorus of "Turn to Stone" rang through Cannery Row as we joined dozens of others awaiting entry on the steps beneath an enormous ELO banner. Once we finally filed in, we were a little taken aback to see not only the usual Mercy patrons and a few gussied-up bros and femmebros, but also scores of septuagenarians seated on stools, their heads a sea of bobbing blue hair, their orthopedic shoes tapping as they mouthed every word.

We'd had our doubts that locals HIBtB and KinderCastle could pull off the undeniably daunting task of recreating Jeff Lynne's magnum opus--especially considering reports we'd heard that the megagroup was seeking a rehearsal space awfully late in the game--but our cynical traps were smacked shut the moment we heard their seven-piece string section launch into the intro for "Sweet Talkin' Woman." Besides, it turns out that the 15-member ensemble had been practicing somewhere in the neighborhood of six hours a day for two weeks straight.

Steve Cross

Check out the slideshows for more photos: Those Darlins; The Black Lips; Backstage.

The Spin arrived for night two of Blue Raider Alumni Weekend at the Mercy lounge still shocked that Lake Fever impresario and Out of the Blue lead guitarist John Baldwin had been seen without a pompadour. Last time we saw the boy, he looked like Morrissey and now he looked like Mr. Brady --it's amazing how the January death of "World's Most Badass Barber," Leonard Maynor, has sent shockwaves through the music community. Our pea-sized brains were still so overwhelmed that we were standing in line next to Richie Ghostfinger for a good five minutes before we recognized him --sans moustache! Minds. Officially. Blown. Seriously, folks, between the death of Michael Jackson, Baldwin's mini fro and Richie's freshly shorn upper lip, our entire world has been turned upside down.

Luckily for us, there was plenty of booze and rock 'n' roll upstairs just waiting to make everything OK. We arrived on the top floor of the Cannery building to find a packed house--any hope we may have had to not sweat our ill-defined genitalia off was quickly dashed. The Black Lips brought a crowd of rabble rousers out for the festivities, with keffiyeh-adorned hipsters crowd-surfing without irony at one point in the set. More importantly, though, the Lips made a perfect soundtrack for the veritable class reunion on the back porch. We saw Velcro Stars Keith Prat and Shane Spresser, Joey, Kelly, Bingham and Eric from Glossary, and a bunch Southern Girls Rock 'n' Roll Campers from way back --kinda like a Sir Pizza staff meeting except nobody smelled like sausage. And it was great to see everyone supporting their friends, even if we heard some grumblings of crab-ass bullshit through out the night. (Of course it wouldn't be Nashville if somebody wasn't complaining about some other band's success.)

Where in the hell were you this past Friday, huh? You definitely weren't at the Exit/In, and that's a damn shame--you missed some mighty fine hip-hop. The Spin were a tad surprised when we arrived, more or less on time, to find only a smattering of souls sitting down listening to Boom Bap/Funky Good Time resident DJ Bowls. BPM the Street, the crew behind the Boom Bap and Funky Good Time, is undergoing a reorganization--what with head BPMer Case Bloom relocating to the City of Brotherly Love--and we figured folks would be fiendin' for the freshness. Looks like we figured wrong. Oh, Nashville how we love you and your remarkably inconsistent attendance policies. But seriously, where were you?

We figured you would at least come out for Oriana Lee, hip-hop poet, wife/manager of Count Bass D and a hometown girl who hasn't been back in a hot minute, but maybe you had better plans. Maybe you were at former Titan Albert Haynesworth's going away party over at Icon and you drank too much, but that excuse doesn't work because Big Fella was there and he made it over to the Exit/In in time to host the show. He might have been full-tilt blasted by the time he showed up, but he showed up. What's your excuse?

Steve Cross

Check out the slideshow for more photos.

If someone had told us when we were 15 that we'd: a) be going to see Fleetwood Mac--a band who was adult contemporary and soft even when they rocked--voluntarily; and b) be pretty excited about it--we'd have probably laughed. We'd love nothing more than to report that band--with all members hovering between the ages of 59 and 63--blew us away, sounded phenomenal and rocked with a burning passion that flew in the face of their age. But the show sounded old, tired and phoned-in. We were bummed.

Fleetwood Mac are one of those bands that for many of our generation elicit memories of excruciatingly long car rides to which they were the soundtrack. However, the undeniable quality of the songwriting on the band's three seminal records Fleetwood Mac, Rumours and Tusk inevitably led us to grow up and appreciate how great they are. The Sommet Center show made us feel like we were 15 again, bored and squirming in our seats.

We knew we were in trouble from the start, when not a single person around us stood for the opening song, "Monday Morning." Given the demographic of the audience--just think Belle Meade Country Club--we were expecting a tame crowd with a proclivity towards sitting. But we at least expected that all would rise for the opening song.

photo by Mark C. Austin

Phoenix

11:30 p.m., Friday - Phoenix at That Tent
With rumors of a cancellation from Phoenix circulating in the press area all day, we waited on pins and needles to determine whether or not we'd catch a set from the seasoned French popsters. We were pleased not only to see that they'd made it, but also that their show offered what was pretty much the perfect combination of Bonnaroo factors: It was a late-but-not-exhaustingly-late set from a band with an established catalog as well as a growing level of momentum behind their latest release (Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix). Oh, and yet another intro from Beatle Bob. There was enough surging, pulsing, strobe-light-bathed energy during Phoenix's set to rival our already-mounting synthetic high, and it was totally awesome.

Saturday
Perhaps we angered the Bonnaroo gods by partaking in too many debaucheries--or not enough--because in some cruel twist of fate, our Saturday began with getting stuck in line for the showers right behind Which Stage as Jimmy Buffet started his set. Probably karma for saying "Jimmy Buffet fuckin' sucks" in front of some parrotheads while waiting for our press credentials on Thursday.

Despite all of the big-ticket artists playing Bonnaroo, the true headliner of the festival is hallucinogenic drugs. Judging by the number of human statues we saw in the crowd, and the people passed out in random spots after forgetting that when you take ecstasy all day and forget to drink water your body will fail you, we're pretty sure that more people saw LSD trails this weekend than any specific musical act.

That being the case, late Friday night we took it upon ourselves to indulge in the counterculture as to properly report on the Bonnaroo experience. At night Centeroo is basically the drug culture equivalent of a Vegas casino. Everything moves in circles, all areas look the same and the place just becomes a money-spending trap that is disorienting by design.

Steve Cross

For more photos, check out the slideshow.

Between all the drugs, lack of sleep and blisters on our feet we were taxed far beyond exhaustion by the time Bruce Springsteen's Saturday night set rolled around. Operating purely on adrenalin, we plowed ahead anyway and braved a crush to get in a What Stage pit that was downright scary. Luckily, it was all worth it, as from the count-off into a rousing version of "Badlands" that opened the set all the way through the closing run of "Rosalita," "Glory Days" and "Dancing in the Dark," Springsteen was out for blood, working every inch of the stage and beyond with more determination to win hearts and minds than any up-and-coming act we saw throughout the weekend.

Onstage, Springsteen mentioned that this was only the second festival appearance the band has ever done--the first was only a mere two weeks ago in Holland--and out of the comfort zone of being in front of his cult audience he showed the Bonnaroo crowd why he's known as The Boss. In fact, the energy of this audience--made up mostly of Springsteen virgins--blew away that of the crowd at last summer's Sommet Center show. Their excitement wasn't lost on Bruce, who looked like he was having the time of his life for the three hours he was onstage.

Photo by Steve Cross

Animal Collective's Panda Bear

For more photos, check out the slideshow.

After a rain-drenched rager of a first evening, Camp Spin woke up Friday amid a swamp of fishy-smelling (Phishy-smelling?) mud puddles with Ghostfinger's Richie Kirkpatrick as a neighbor. (By the next day, folks from the Lake Fever and Mercy Lounge crews would move into the hood as well.) While trudging through the muck toward Centeroo, we came across local Road to Bonnaroo 8 off 8th champs Heypenny in their infamous marching-band attire. Looked like they were stirring up some attention...or, at the very least, a few curious stares.

2:45 - Animal Collective at Which Stage
After spotting Avey Tare side-stage at The Dirty Projectors' goosebump-inducing show, we headed over to Which Stage to see what he and fellow Animal Collective members Panda Bear and Geologist had in store for the festival crowd. We climbed into the upper reaches of the sun-baked press bleachers before realizing we probably would've had a better vantage point amongst the proletariat. Regardless, we caught a bird's eye view of the midday influx of shirtless 'Roo patrons, and it quickly became apparent that, despite A.C.'s sizable fan base, a large portion of the crowd was seeing the hipster icons perform for the first time.

* Drunk people running to catch an artist they're late for = pure gold. Sorry. It's true. If you're going to shriek "Oakenfold!!" with your arms outstretched as you fall flat on your face, you should expect someone to laugh at you. Don't be so defensive.

* Good turnouts for all of the Nashville talent this year. Heypenny seemed to attract some attention by stomping about in their marching-band uniforms in Centeroo.

* Despite rumors of a cancellation, Phoenix started their set last night right on time. And it was exceptional.

* We came across a publication floating about in the press area titled Bonnaroo Beacon. Apparently, the 'Roo folks put out loads of copies of this thing each morning, and they feature insanely-written reviews of the previous day's shows. Example: "Karen O wore tiger-striped spandex pants and a mismatched exercise top with carefully-placed hands that would seem out of place on Jerry Garcia." Also, TV on the Radio is "alt jazz/rock/whathaveya." OK, um...WUT? Must grab as many copies of this thing as possible.

* Arepas are AWESOME. Tasty little exotic grilled cheese sandwiches. We've had roughly 17 this weekend, and as soon as we're back in Nashville, we're ordering them by the case.

* Raphael Saadiq didn't make his scheduled press conference this morning, and there was talk that he was sick. Thankfully, he played a full set. And while he didn't seem sick, his band was motherfuckin' sick.

* Decemberists guy's bangs are far too long for a man that age.

* Folks were lining up for the Bruce (@9 p.m.) pit at What Stage even before Wilco (@ 6 p.m.) started their solid, sad grampa-ish set. We can guarantee you at least one member of the Cream entourage will be front-and-center for the Boss. Guess who?

* Our photog was approved for the Bruce photo pit short-list. Expect some great shots. And go ahead and have a look at the photos over there on the right from what's been snapped so far.

* We saw Aliah Shawkat (Arrested Development's Maeby) for the second year in a row. Pretty sure we caught her eye. Or maybe not. Next year, we're totally going to talk to her.

* We have many irons in the fire, so keep an eye out for full-fledged coverage on the blog and in this week's Spin. We've caught or will catch Grizzly Bear, David Byrne, Bruce Springsteen, Raphael Saadiq, Phoenix, Beastie Boys, Wilco, TV on the Radio, Passion Pit, Animal Collective, Robyn Hitchcock, Elvis Costello, Elvis Perkins, Yeasayer, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Public Enemy, King Sunny Ade, Al Green, MGMT, Those Darlins, Protomen, Heypenny, The Features and many, many more. Hell, even a little bit of Jimmy Buffet and Phish just to keep things fair. As for now, it's time for Bruce and then an all-night rager. Spin out!

America the Beautiful...or not.

* "A 40% chance of rain" is about the most noncommittal forecast ever. Every time we see a cloud, we contemplate taking shelter. Typically, we go with our gut, stay where we are and just keep drinking.

* Individually, Bonnaroo volunteers seem to each only have a tiny piece of the big picture as far as their responsibilities go. This results in things like: A) Driving to the wrong camping entrance because the traffic-director lady was a bit too cavalier with her orange flag and B) Being able to use our media passes to get away with a little more than we're technically probably supposed to. Hello, Artist Hospitality!

* Dirty Projectors' latest record deserves about 10 more listens from us post-haste. They're like if Fiery Furnaces had several stellar vocalists and were, you know, better. Maybe that's the drugs talking, though.

* Even if you don't Twitter, it's pretty easy to stay abreast of aprospro tweets (whether or not they're verifiable) thanks to companions' smartie-pants phones. We're keeping our fingers crossed that Phoenix is still playing; someone told us they caught a later flight in.

* Animal Collective in the day? Didn't work for us like it should have. Next year, late-night tent set, plz.

* Though Which Stage has hosted some great bands today (and TV on the Radio just kicked a little bit of ass there), it's probably our least favorite jump-off of all the stages.

* Way fewer bare breasts this year.

* Annie Clark (a.k.a. St. Vincent) is apparently omnipresent. We've seen her at about three shows and have ogled her in the press area countless times throughout the day.

* Someone in the press trailer just made mention of a nude guy causing trouble on the premises. Wonder if it's the same bro who got tazed at Coachella...

* Beastie Boys and David Byrne are both starting! We actually have two places to be at once, so we'll check ya later.