Bonnaroo review
Posted: June 17, 2005 7:46 am
Stomping the Tennessee Mud
By JON PARELES
MANCHESTER, Tenn., June 12 - Sprawl is all at Bonnaroo, the festival of jam
bands and fellow travelers that brought 80,000 people to dance in the mud at
a 700-acre farm here in central Tennessee.
The jam-band mentality is eclectic, open-ended, changeable, unconcerned with
glamour and more attuned to the moment than the song. And Bonnaroo, now in
its fourth year, takes that mentality to a euphoric extreme.
Its headliners - the Dave Matthews Band on Friday, Widespread Panic on
Saturday and Sunday - each played for three and a half hours. Six dozen
other bands played overlapping sets from noon to 4 a.m. on five main stages.
A handful of the performers have Top 10 hits, among them Mr. Matthews and
the surfer-turned-songwriter Jack Johnson, whose modest, reggae-inflected
folk-rock drew an acrewide singalong.
But many others work on a circuit that's invisible to MTV - the musicians
aren't always young or pretty - and are largely unheard on commercial radio.
It's a livelihood built on touring, which predates the recording business
and could survive the major labels' demise. Bonnaroo sold tens of thousands
of tickets with no advertising.
Performers who were new to the festival marveled at the enthusiasm. "You
guys really like to dance, or what?" said Sam Beam, the leader of Iron and
Wine, who beefed up some of his gentle, imagistic songs with a band.
The jam-band circuit represents a hippie dream to a generation born after
the 1960's, promising communal spirit and, often, chemically enhanced fun.
There were plenty of tie-dyed shirts and songs about love, peace and cosmic
thoughts, like those of Xavier Rudd, who aimed for a mystical drone by
playing one-chord slide guitar riffs and deep hoots on didgeridoos. The
hip-hop acts at Bonnaroo, among them Jurassic 5 and De La Soul, were from
the alternative, collegiate wing of hip-hop; De La Soul chanted, "Pray for
peace."
In past years, Bonnaroo booked everyone from Sonic Youth to Wilco to Ween.
This year's festival was slightly narrower, centering on the Southern rock
of the Allman Brothers Band, Gov't Mule and Widespread Panic. The guitarist
Warren Haynes played as a member of two bands (the Allman Brothers Band and
Gov't Mule) and sat in with the Dave Matthews Band and Widespread Panic.
While Southern rockers can be lugubrious when they turn to ballads, at
Bonnaroo they played to keep dancers happy. Widespread Panic's Saturday
night performance started upbeat and stayed there. Songs steamed along on
blues and country vamps, veered off for an occasional psychedelic detour,
then zoomed ahead again.
Mr. Matthews's set was darker, though no less kinetic. His new album, "Stand
Up" (RCA), pares songs down to rhythms and riffs, and it has made the
staccato interplay of his band even leaner. He chose some of his bleakest
songs, new and old, and sang them with woeful intensity. "Hello Again,"
whose narrator may have killed his sweetheart, was downright harrowing.
The jam-band circuit started with bands modeled on the Grateful Dead, but it
has embraced funk, and some of Bonnaroo's best music was built on deeply
syncopated grooves. The keyboardist Herbie Hancock introduced Headhunters
2005, including John Mayer on bluesy guitar and the jazz musicians Roy
Hargrove on trumpet and Kenny Garrett on saxophone. In songs from Mr.
Hancock's 1970's Headhunters and new ones - including a suave, Stingesque
song written by Mr. Mayer and Mr. Hancock - succinct grooves left room for
daring harmonic excursions.
The instrumental band Particle was methodical and unstoppable, starting with
keyboard vamps and making them balloon steadily. Mouse on Mars, a German
band of bass, drums and laptop, was slyer but no less effective, using
techno beats and then splintering them with sounds like breaking glass. The
saxophonist Karl Denson's Tiny Universe encompassed James Brown-style funk,
smoother acid jazz and some old-fashioned soul belting. And for its
late-night marathon, Galactic, a New Orleans funk band, brought along Mardi
Gras Indians and members of the Dirty Dozen Brass Band.
People danced to the high-impact, mathematical progressive-rock songs of the
Mars Volta; to the speedily picked bluegrass of Yonder Mountain String Band;
to the bruised, Dylan-tinged country-rock of M. Ward; to the chiming
melodies and smart lyrics of Rilo Kiley, and to the political party music of
Ozomatli, globe-hopping from salsa to Indian drone to ska to flamenco. (Rare
among jam bands, Ozomatli had some synchronized dance steps.) Now and then,
audiences were willing to stay still and listen to the droll, homey songs of
John Prine; to the stately, heartsick anthems of the Frames; and to the
reveries of the harpist and songwriter Joanna Newsom. But for most of
Bonnaroo, approval was measured in blissful motion.
--
John Lyon
By JON PARELES
MANCHESTER, Tenn., June 12 - Sprawl is all at Bonnaroo, the festival of jam
bands and fellow travelers that brought 80,000 people to dance in the mud at
a 700-acre farm here in central Tennessee.
The jam-band mentality is eclectic, open-ended, changeable, unconcerned with
glamour and more attuned to the moment than the song. And Bonnaroo, now in
its fourth year, takes that mentality to a euphoric extreme.
Its headliners - the Dave Matthews Band on Friday, Widespread Panic on
Saturday and Sunday - each played for three and a half hours. Six dozen
other bands played overlapping sets from noon to 4 a.m. on five main stages.
A handful of the performers have Top 10 hits, among them Mr. Matthews and
the surfer-turned-songwriter Jack Johnson, whose modest, reggae-inflected
folk-rock drew an acrewide singalong.
But many others work on a circuit that's invisible to MTV - the musicians
aren't always young or pretty - and are largely unheard on commercial radio.
It's a livelihood built on touring, which predates the recording business
and could survive the major labels' demise. Bonnaroo sold tens of thousands
of tickets with no advertising.
Performers who were new to the festival marveled at the enthusiasm. "You
guys really like to dance, or what?" said Sam Beam, the leader of Iron and
Wine, who beefed up some of his gentle, imagistic songs with a band.
The jam-band circuit represents a hippie dream to a generation born after
the 1960's, promising communal spirit and, often, chemically enhanced fun.
There were plenty of tie-dyed shirts and songs about love, peace and cosmic
thoughts, like those of Xavier Rudd, who aimed for a mystical drone by
playing one-chord slide guitar riffs and deep hoots on didgeridoos. The
hip-hop acts at Bonnaroo, among them Jurassic 5 and De La Soul, were from
the alternative, collegiate wing of hip-hop; De La Soul chanted, "Pray for
peace."
In past years, Bonnaroo booked everyone from Sonic Youth to Wilco to Ween.
This year's festival was slightly narrower, centering on the Southern rock
of the Allman Brothers Band, Gov't Mule and Widespread Panic. The guitarist
Warren Haynes played as a member of two bands (the Allman Brothers Band and
Gov't Mule) and sat in with the Dave Matthews Band and Widespread Panic.
While Southern rockers can be lugubrious when they turn to ballads, at
Bonnaroo they played to keep dancers happy. Widespread Panic's Saturday
night performance started upbeat and stayed there. Songs steamed along on
blues and country vamps, veered off for an occasional psychedelic detour,
then zoomed ahead again.
Mr. Matthews's set was darker, though no less kinetic. His new album, "Stand
Up" (RCA), pares songs down to rhythms and riffs, and it has made the
staccato interplay of his band even leaner. He chose some of his bleakest
songs, new and old, and sang them with woeful intensity. "Hello Again,"
whose narrator may have killed his sweetheart, was downright harrowing.
The jam-band circuit started with bands modeled on the Grateful Dead, but it
has embraced funk, and some of Bonnaroo's best music was built on deeply
syncopated grooves. The keyboardist Herbie Hancock introduced Headhunters
2005, including John Mayer on bluesy guitar and the jazz musicians Roy
Hargrove on trumpet and Kenny Garrett on saxophone. In songs from Mr.
Hancock's 1970's Headhunters and new ones - including a suave, Stingesque
song written by Mr. Mayer and Mr. Hancock - succinct grooves left room for
daring harmonic excursions.
The instrumental band Particle was methodical and unstoppable, starting with
keyboard vamps and making them balloon steadily. Mouse on Mars, a German
band of bass, drums and laptop, was slyer but no less effective, using
techno beats and then splintering them with sounds like breaking glass. The
saxophonist Karl Denson's Tiny Universe encompassed James Brown-style funk,
smoother acid jazz and some old-fashioned soul belting. And for its
late-night marathon, Galactic, a New Orleans funk band, brought along Mardi
Gras Indians and members of the Dirty Dozen Brass Band.
People danced to the high-impact, mathematical progressive-rock songs of the
Mars Volta; to the speedily picked bluegrass of Yonder Mountain String Band;
to the bruised, Dylan-tinged country-rock of M. Ward; to the chiming
melodies and smart lyrics of Rilo Kiley, and to the political party music of
Ozomatli, globe-hopping from salsa to Indian drone to ska to flamenco. (Rare
among jam bands, Ozomatli had some synchronized dance steps.) Now and then,
audiences were willing to stay still and listen to the droll, homey songs of
John Prine; to the stately, heartsick anthems of the Frames; and to the
reveries of the harpist and songwriter Joanna Newsom. But for most of
Bonnaroo, approval was measured in blissful motion.
--
John Lyon