Dispatch from Bonnaroo: Weir, White Stripes and Widespread fatigue

[Our fearless young Buzz Bands correspondent Jeff Weiss refuses to succumb to anything at Bonnaroo: humidity, hallucinations, hippies or hype. Here's his final-day transmission -- if you missed the first three installments over the weekend, just scroll down -- from the wilds of Tennessee. A round of digital applause, please:]

Bronson, Bronson, Bronson:

And on Sunday I didn’t rest,

No the humidity has not gotten to me. Or maybe it has. I’m not sure what’s going on. At Bob Weir & Ratdog, a middle-aged woman performed something vaguely resembling  “The Elaine Dance” from "Seinfeld" (a dry-heave set to music), and strangely I found it somewhat re-assuring. A 15-year-old Deadhead in tie-dye slammed back a Budweiser and spun around in a dance last seen in "The Nutcracker." I found it totally normal.

By Day 4, surreal things no longer seem to stand out. I’ve been sucked into the Bonnaroo vortex, a place where the bizarre is par for the course. I mean, there’s something called a silent disco, where hundreds of people strap on headphones and dance to trance music till dawn, looking completely and utterly ridiculous. It’s the sort of place where you can wander around at 2 in the morning and accidentally bump into Bob Weir sitting in with Government Mule and performing a chilling version of the Dead classic, “Loser.” Trust me, it was mind-blowingly awesome.

Once again, Weir was the grand ol’ man of the festival as his status as former rhythm guitarist for the Grateful Dead makes him a veritable deity in the Jam nation.

Predictably, Weir’s 3 p.m. Sunday set with Ratdog was one of the festival’s most anticipated performances, and with his ageless voice and still finely honed chops, the youngest member of the Dead didn’t disappoint.

Commencing with Dead classic, “Slipknot (Help is on the Way)," Weir started mellow, clad in shorts, sandals and a Hawaiian print shirt. Imagine the hippie version of Lou Brown, the manager from the movie "Major League." Hewing closely to the hits from the Dead song book, Weir played “New Minglewood Blues,” “Hell in a Bucket” and “Throwin’ Stones.” Rat Dog was loose and funky, expertly improvising the songs and stretching out the arrangements to the satisfaction of the dancing crowd. Perhaps the highlight of the set was Weir’s rendition of the Beatles’ “Come Together.” People did.

5:30 p.m.

Twilight is the perfect time to hear the cuts off Wilco’s latest album, Sky Blue Sky. Relentlessly mellow almost to the point of boredom, the latest record harkens back to the band’s alt-country roots, slow, loping melodies, the twang of the steel pedal and soft hushed drums that keep pace with Tweedy’s newfound optimism. Starting with album opener, “Either Way,” the Chicago six-piece conjured up the perfect mood for the long come-down sure to follow Bonnaroo.

The set was heavy on new material, with Tweedy & Co. segueing into a moody and psychedelic version of “Side with the Seeds” featuring some jagged, darting Nels Cline guitar riffs. But the older stuff drew the biggest response from the crowd as they broke into a brilliant and delicate rendition of “I Am Trying to Break Your Heart,” from "Yankee Hotel Foxtrot." The great thing about a Wilco show is seeing what types of arrangements the band will give to each song, and Bonnaroo was no different.  “Handshake Drugs” was cloaked in disco funk. “Via Chicago” became a bruising power ballad featuring Glen Kotche unleashing a fierce drum coda. “Spiders (Kidsmoke)” burst with tremendous power reborn as a spacey psych-rock jam.

All in all, it was another great performance from one of America’s greatest bands, and even the normally festival-wary Tweedy got in on the pleasant Bonnaroo vibes proclaiming, “We’re having a good time and that doesn’t happen that often. I usually hate these type of things.” Hear, hear.

7:15 p.m.

Jack White is the closest thing the Bonnaroo festival had to a headlining hometown act, as the Stripe has abandoned Detroit for the country capital of Nashville, just 60 miles from Manchester. So it was fitting that a red-clad White picked the 'Roo as the spot to debut the songs off of the band’s latest and possibly greatest record, "Icky Thump." As for the new songs, they certain didn’t disappoint in the live context, with White’s guitar freak-outs retaining the same formidable power that they’ve always had. And Meg is still a much better drummer than people think, with booming drum hits capable of filtering out into the swollen purple dusk filled with thousands upon thousands of people still somehow going strong.

Perhaps the best thing about a White Stripes set though is White’s insistence on combing through his long back catalogue to unearth some rarely heard gems. His cover of Dolly Parton’s “Jolene” was haunting and poignant, as White’s slightly frayed voice was still able to amply carry the frailty and desolation of the ballad. His cover of Son House’s “Death Letter” was bruising and burst with psychedelic bluesy color. Of course, White played the hits: “Hotel Yorba,” “Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground,” “Blue Orchid,” and the fans ate it up, issuing deafeningly loud cheers and a whole lot of stage-diving. Often taciturn onstage, White seemed uncharacteristically happy, even issuing a marriage proposal for a Stripes fan that was too shy to do it himself. By the time, the Stripes performed their final encore, “Seven Nation Army,” it was clear that Louisville-bred My Morning Jacket, who had heretofore been Bonnaroo’s hometown boys might have a little bit of competition.

9 p.m.

How do these people still have the energy? Widespread Panic is playing jam after jam on the main stage, and you'd think it was Day 1 from the manic response they’re getting. Of course, Panic have played nearly every single Bonnaroo and like always, are the closing band, supplying supple blues-based jam rock filled with wild guitar solos, heavy drums and atmospheric keys. Their originals might not be instantly memorable but it’s not hard to see why they've been anointed America’s top jam band. Of course, after 40-plus hours of music this weekend, it’s tough to get too excited about seeing another electric guitar solo. If there was one thing that tied this festival together, it was that nearly every single band chosen to play Bonnaroo, could actually play. This isn’t the place for tightly coiled one chord indie rock pretension; if you can’t wield your axe, don’t bother showing up. But, gawd, this place is exhausting. My knee aches. My hamstrings are knotted and I think I might have the black lung from all the dirt I’ve inhaled. Sorry Panic, you guys are pretty damned good and I’ll have to catch you in L.A.

But for now, it’s time to go home.

It’s been real,
Jeff

Photo of the White Stripes performing at sunset by Jeff Gentner / Getty Images.

Comments

[Hugo]

I've had it with Weiss. I like how he reports what band he saw and the crowd's behavior and reaction, but hate his parenthetical statements. His previous post derided Tool as a copycat and in this post makes no less than two remarks about Wilco's new album as "almost [boring]" and Meg White as "a better drummer than most people think." As to the latter, I think most people think Meg is a dilettante at best or a beneficiary of happenstance at worst. Given these two ranges, there's a lot of room for improvement; it also helps when you have Jack White's guitar thundering over Meg's monotonous drumming. So she's a better drummer than you thought? Could it be because you expected her to be a terrible drummer? So she wasn't terrible, thanks for the insight Weiss. Sky Blue Sky is possibly the best work since Summerteeth. But nevermind that, Weiss notes that the crowd went nuts for the old material. Could it be because the album has only been out about a month? Just maybe? Not according to Weiss, it's just borderline boring. Let's see in 6 months how a crowd reacts to "Impossible Germany." Kevin Bronson, please don't let this guy blog about Lollapalooza or Sunset Junction, he's just plain bad.