Of everyone I saw at Lollapalooza, Jane’s Addiction’s headlining Sunday performance was undoubtedly the most over-the-top. Who else would have a helicopter circle the concert grounds just prior to a performance to illuminate the fans and stage? Moves like this had front man Perry Farrell’s fingerprints all over them. And being the catalyst for this whole Lolla phenomenon, we shouldn’t expect anything less than the biggest and baddest display of rock possible from Farell and his Angelino brethren Dave Navarro, Eric Avery, and Stephen Perkins.
As the sounds of Snoop Dogg laying down his hits like “That’s That” rumbled in the near background, I tried my best to have an audible conversation with the nomadic four-man band known as Portugal. The Man. Distractions or not, I was able to have a good talk with this group that derives from both Portland, Oregon and Alaska. Earlier in the day I was lucky enough to catch Portugal at the Lolla’s PlayStation stage. Here I experienced musicians with a strong influence from late-60s/early-70s rock, pop, and soul, but who are unafraid to step ahead. With a dual guitar, drums, multiple keyboard set-up and almost everyone on vocals, members John Gourley (vocals/guitars), Zach Carothers (bass/vocals), Jason Sechrist (drums), Ryan Neighbors (keys/vocals), and touring player Zoe Manville (keys/vocals) easily glide across a wave of old school-minded harmonic freshness. I spoke to Portugal. The Man about their sonic commonalities, touring, and how home is now a hard place to find.
Experiencing the music of young UK indie rock stars Arctic Monkeys in both a modest-sized venue and an oversized festival stage tells me a lot of about this group’s immense capabilities.
My first live exposure to this band led by vocalist Alex Turner was at their pre-Lollapalooza show at the Metro on Chicago’s North Side. It’s no surprise that this concert was sold out well ahead of time. While one of the fastest selling bands ever in their home of England, the Arctic Monkeys get a lot of love stateside too.
The funny thing about Animal Collective is that even some of its fans have trouble describing what they think of this Baltimore-bred band. After stepping out of the photo pit and into the crowd at their Lollapalooza set at the PlayStation stage, I ran into listeners of Animal Collective that I know, and the most they could say is that they have to be in a certain mood for the music. Is it mood music? Maybe. Of course, the die-hard fans in the front row, with the multi-colored paw tracks painted on their faces might argue otherwise.
Santi White a.k.a. Santigold is all smiles on stage. This Brooklyn-based singer-songwriter has enough charisma to hold a crowd for hours. Watching her on stage, there’s no mistaking her love of making and ultimately sharing music. The chorus of Santi’s massively popular grime-meets-dancehall single “Creator” sums it up well: “Me, I’m a creator / thrill is to make it up.”
With Santi’s performance at Lollapalooza’s PlayStation stage she gave us plenty to look at, from her and her band’s golden gear to her and her back-up vocalists’ occasional throwback dance moves. The visual stimulation though worked hand-in-hand with her vivid, genre-hopping sonics, which feature a consistent bass-beavy foundation.
Remaining relevant in hip-hop is arguably tougher to do than in any other music genre/culture, but Queensbridge-bred rhymer Nas makes it look easy. When he made his debut on Main Source’s “Live At the BBQ” in ’92, potent lines like, “When I was twelve I went to hell for snuffin’ Jesus,” quickly made Nas an MC you purposely sought out. Like many hip-hoppers in ’94, I remember listening to his debut, Illmatic, on repeat that summer in awe. On top of the first-class productions from DJ Premier, Pete Rock, and Large Professor heard on this classic, Nas’ vivid street narratives and raw metaphors unfolded like moving, gritty cinema that you just refuse to stop watching.
It has to be surreal going from making beats in your grandma’s basement one year to working with hip-hop mainstay Nas the next. But C-Sick, the winner of the Red Bull Big Tune 2008 beat battle, doesn’t come off as nervous about being a part of this landmark collaboration. Instead, I see this 18-year-old newcomer as quietly confident and eager, not wanting to draw attention to his own anticipation.
Humbleness is underrated in hip-hop. Despite what some say, ego does not automatically equal talent and 18-year-old rookie producer C-Sick is proof that even the most quiet hip-hopper can capture a crowd.
Watching the then 17-year-old beatsmith face off with the competition at the 2008 Red Bull Big Tune Chicago battle, C-Sick was clearly not only one of the youngest in the competition, but he was also one of the most reserved. Still, as the skinny kid from Chicago’s South Side modestly shuffled his arms along to his own bouncy beats, the audience responded loudly and I knew he was on the verge of doing big things.
When I got word that C-Sick won the Red Bull Big Tune Finals at the Highline Ballroom In New York, it was good to know that East Coast heads embraced the emerging Midwest producer. Earlier this year I caught up with him via e-mail to talk about his victory and he told me, “Since I was the representative of Chicago as well as the runner-up Rob Bates, I had to put my best into it and show the public that Chicago has a lot of talent.”
Since holding it down for Chicago last Fall at the finals, C-Sick didn’t try to jump right into the industry and I commend him for that. Still finishing up his senior year of high school, he has no problem keeping things low-key while continuing to collect samples and knock out beats on his Toshiba laptop. And when he has time, he keeps his ear to the rap game. “Not a lot of people heard about me, but I did still keep in contact with many record labels,” he says.
Coming up to April, with school coming to a close, and young C-Sick finds himself in L.A. working with Nas as part of his Red Bull Big Tune prize. After two years of quietly building his skills, I have a feeling this is just the beginning for the burgeoning beat maker.
To understand the balance behind the gravely voiced raps of L.A. native Awol One, listening to the last line of the MC’s new album with Canadian producer Factor is an ideal starting point. On the closing cut of the new LP Owl Hours called “Sunset Sandwich,” he raps, “It’s Awol / Yo, what’s the word? / I’m the school bully and the school nerd.”
Since coming up through the indie hip-hop scene in the late-90s, first working with the oddball Shape Shifters crew and then producers like Daddy Kev and Fat Jack, Awol with his gruff resonance is a voice to remember but one that has never been easy to define. He’s an MC who can get as reflective as some of the best ‘emo’ rappers yet he can turn around and talk more shit on the mic than a relentless stand up comedian.
