Coachella Day Three: Wish You Were Here

Friday, April 25, 2008

By Jonathan Zwickel
Special to MSN Music

Like Saturday, Sunday saw the arrival of a new type of festivalgoer: the longhaired, Pink Floyd-shirted 30- and 40-something jonesing for Roger Waters' festival-closing set. In terms of production, the Floyd co-founder didn't disappoint -- his performance included all the lasers, smoke, video projections, eyebrow-singing explosions, and giant inflatable animals the legions expected.

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"Gogol Bordello's gypsy punk carnival ... has finally achieved the international notoriety [it] deserves"

The first portion of his two-and-a-half hour set consisted of songs classic and obscure, favorites from his tenure with Floyd and obscurities from his solo career. The fact was, the spectacle dwarfed the man and the music emerged mostly tired and bloated. The night before, Prince managed to show his age without sounding old, a feat Waters couldn't manage. Prince was certainly a pompous showoff, but that's exactly who he's always been. Waters banked on nostalgia, with rock-operatic overtones and grandstanding physical gestures that felt awkward.

It wasn't until the now-iconic giant Pink Floyd pig floated out from backstage that any connection between past and present was established. Updated with graffiti-tagged slogans "Fear Builds Walls" and "Don't Be Led to the Slaughter," the creature emerged to massive pyrotechnics and a roaring crowd during cathartic set closer "Sheep."

"Wish You Were Here" and "Shine On You Crazy Diamond" (both ostensibly about original Floyd mastermind Syd Barrett) sounded legendary, but more in an FM radio way: They might as well have been piped in from the ether through a tinny car speaker while driving along midnight desert highways. Even blasted through the main stage's ear-splitting surround sound system they sounded distant. The songs are indeed timeless, but they weren't timely, at least for a place like Coachella.

Again with the contrast: While Waters and his band played to a gaga crowd of 50 thousand at the main stage, there were another ten thousand kids at the Sahara tent who could've cared less that the rock icon was revisiting some of the most popular songs ever recorded (Waters' second set consisted of "Dark Side of the Moon" in its entirety). The trifecta of Simian Mobile Disco, Chromeo, and Justice were the anti-Floyd, the underground dance-mad counterpoint to Waters' big-budget rock spectacle.

Parisian production duo Justice incited the biggest dance riot of the entire weekend, while Chromeo proved Prince's influence on the electro-pop sound that was all over Coachella this year. In the Mojave Tent, Black Mountain did the same with Portishead. Though their slowly steamrolling psychedelic rock might not bear immediate resemblance to U.K. trip-hop, on this particular night, Amber Webber's traumatized vocals sounded particularly Gibbons-esque.

The Sunday sunset set was an important one -- the most scenic 45 minutes of the last day of the festival. My Morning Jacket were the right choice to fill the slot. The Kentucky space-rockers owned the moment, slamming into a couple barnburners from their acclaimed album "Z" before delving into the title track from the upcoming "Evil Urges."

Sporting a pair of white leather moon boots, striking poses straight out of the Eddie Van Halen playbook, bandleader Jim James gave the Raconteurs' Jack White a run for the Guitar God title. The band was more vivacious and animated than ever, and the anthemic melody of "Gideon" played soundtrack to a cotton candy-blue sky fading into a purple bruise and eventually into star-speckled twilight.

Prior to MMJ's set, Sean Penn -- yes, that Sean Penn -- made a brief appearance on the main stage. "What the f*ck is Sean Penn doing on the main stage?" he started with. "That's a direct quote from my mom when she called me this morning." Penn was there to announce his new activist project, the Dirty Hands Caravan.

He told the crowd that six biodiesel buses would leave the following day from the Coachella parking lot to take volunteers to New Orleans, LA. He was actually trying to enlist festivalgoers, to get them to drop everything and spontaneously join his quest. Self-deprecating and complimentary of the "younger, smarter, funnier" generation, Penn managed to avoid sounding like a pompous blowhard. It was a gutsy move.

His appearance directly followed Gogol Bordello's gypsy punk carnival on the main stage. The mulit-culti band has finally achieved the international notoriety they deserve: Theirs was one of the sweatiest, most raucous, performances of the weekend.

Jonathan Zwickel writes about music for the Seattle Times and is working on a biography of the Beastie Boys.

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