The picture above is of Sebastien Grainger, bleached out drummer of Death From Above 1979--but more on that later...
Low expectations going into this year's Lolla; there just weren't many good artists playing. I'd like to say that my expectations were wrong, but--and I think you know where this going--they weren't. I made through all of Friday without seeing a great performance. Saturday and Sunday were better, but only in spurts. In a festival increasingly smitten with its own corporate ego (and humongous DJ tent), great live music has seem to fall a little by the wayside.
Yes, Lollapalooza as a festival has grown to be somewhat miserable. Between the giant logos above the stages, the bro-tastic (a.k.a. nauseating) football-field-sized Perry's tent, the near-unwalkable length of the park (I'm lazy...), and the crowd, which has far too high a contingency of lax bros and broettes, as well as people who've actually been tricked into thinking that Eminem is the greatest rapper ever. The only things that tend to make all this stuff tolerable are the food (Bonsoiree, Kuma's, Franks n Dawgs, etc.), the presence of my friends, and the presence of (usually) several truly great musical performances.
Well, as I've already mentioned, that last part--the musical aspect--was in shorter supply than ever this year, and, as a result, I'm only listing my six favorite acts of the festival whereas I usually do my top twelve. (Granted, there were some people I missed that I probably would've liked due to scheduling conflict or just oversight--and those regrets will also be listed below.) Anyways, these six shows were indeed quite good and helped mix up the monotony of lugging myself across the park to see forgettable indie bands and, uh, Cee Lo Green (terrible). They helped make 2011's Lollapalooza, as much a clusterfuck as it was (on several levels), actually a very fun weekend. Yes: fun.
But, alas, it wasn't the music, really, that made Lolla so enjoyable. Spending a weekend in Grant Park with all your friends is an undeniable recipe for happiness. While walking past Buckingham Fountain on Friday, my friend and I noticed that we hadn't seen any good music--but look at that freakin' skyline and this freakin' fountain and who we're with--how could you not be having an amazing time? This was a sentiment we spoke aloud, and a man walking next to us chimed in with fervent agreement. Look past the corporate vomit and you realize that there is no other place you'd rather be on a weekend in August.
And, before we count down the music, an anecdote: Sunday at around 5:30, it began to pour. Yes, excessive rain when there's no shelter may be looked upon as a bad thing (and it certainly was for both my phone and my newly-autographed Titus Andronicus LP), but a few of my buddies and I chose to soak (ha! pun) it in. We took off our shirts and shoes, climbed to the top of a small hill near the stage where Explosions In The Sky were set to play in about an hour, and began to slide down the hill--feet first, head first, somersaulting, rolling, etc. Before we knew it, an army of shirtless men (and some shirted women) followed suit. At least fifty people were talking advantage of this wet, grassy hill. A group of (intoxicated) guys rounded up the festival's trash cans and stacked them like vertical bowling pins as the group of hill sliders crashed into them and knocked them down. It was very communal, very in the spirit of what a music festival should offer. (Because we weren't dirty enough, my friend and I then proceeded to dance around in straight-up mud for a bit.) And then came the music--Explosions In The Sky--and it was beautiful, even if I'm not really a fan.
Anyhow, now it's time to actually look at the six best acts of the fest, and everybody knows what number one is...
