It was with a decent amount of disbelief that we approached the final day of Sasquatch! 2011. The past three days had gone all too fast; a whirlwind of good people and great music, but with more to go, we weren’t about to rest on our laurels.
Despite being a late addition to the line-up, it was a strange occasion to see Wavves as the first act of the day. Because of this scheduling misstep the crowd was thinner than expected, but California’s favourite stoner-pop trio stepped up to the challenge with a short but sweet set that bustled with fan favourites including ‘King Of The Beach’ and the blistering ‘Post Acid’ finale.
Managing to catch the tail end of Jaill, we were suitably impressed. The eclectic pop-punk group who worked the thin crowd into a fray with their wiry, up-tempo summer tunes. Think Regurgitator-turned-rock band, and check them out if you get the chance.
Like Wavves before them, Chromeo were given an early time slot that defied logic, and similarly they weren’t about to let that stop them. As the sun beamed down, the boys and the audience worked together to create a perfect dance party – a jovial soft mosh that was accented by all sorts of colourful characters – from the drunken Irishman to the acid-tripping raver and the dozens of inflatable characters to danced above them (octopuses, thongs, unicorns and monkeys amongst others). Flanked by three Robert Palmer-esque backup singers, they powered through tracks like ‘Pants Off, Dance Off’ and ‘Don’t Turn The Lights Off’, and the crowd answered their calling – shaking out whatever little refrains they had left and embracing the feel-good rhythms. It was as sexy as daylight gets.
The fast-thinning crowd who stuck about for Guided By Voices seemed to lose even more interest after Robert Pollard quite public berated Chromeo before them as a “shitty band.” Buzz kill aside, Guided By Voices seem to be a rather niche offering, especially on the main stage at a festival such as a Sasquatch, but the few who remained as the last bars rang out into the amphitheatre showed enough gratitude to validate their inclusion. It was a hard and rather obscure rock set to judge, so without wanting to do undue damage, I’ll leave it at all.
Sharon Stone and The Dap Kings provided a far more interesting set, reviving the vibe that Guided By Voices had not long squandered. As separate acts they oozed funk, together their synchronicity was astounding. From the pit to the top of the grassy lawn, this set provided some of the greatest, most impromptu outbursts of dance of the weekend. On stage, Stone’s free-for-all funk and unrestrained pipes provided a great dose of entertainment, including the serenading of a much younger, no less enthusiastic and entirely random pit-dweller before the masses.
Surfer Blood’s set was an interesting one. Having had all of their stage gear stolen just days earlier, you could hardly fault them for a false start. So, while they first came off as just another young indie band with a scrap of potential, once they warmed up they made a surprising turn around – providing an interesting, multi-faceted performance that was led by some exemplary crowd interactions, and like any good festival set, they left us wanting more.
You have to wonder how a band with such a wildly eclectic, energetic and flamboyant front man like Nic Offer continues to function when he is perpetually throwing shade at the rest of the band mates. However, for !!! it seems to work. Invoking as much attention as he demands, the set was more about Nic’s crazy antics than the music itself, but it certainly played its part. When he sang, we danced. When he bantered, we laughed. When he mimicked fellatio on the microphone, we laughed even more. All the while, the band provided a soundtrack for it all. Outrageous? Yes, but completely entertaining, and by far the most original gig of the weekend.
“This is where Wilco played our worst show ever,” Jeff Tweedy quipped in the opening minutes of that very bands set. It’s not the start you’d expect from a band of Wilco’s calibre, nor as the grand finale such a weekend. But that’s what Wilco do: they play with tradition and, while skewered a little more towards the sad stuff, observations such as this are what sets them apart.
Their set delved into so much more detail than that. Opening with ‘Ashes Of American Flags’, they proceeded to even-handedly work their way through their impressive back catalogue with the precision and technique that you’d expect from a band who have are as accomplished as Wilco are.
Many more Tweedy-ism’s came over the course of the night, including berating the non-clappers for “being like me. I’m that guy. You don’t want to be like me.” It was impossible not to give in – as they crooned through greats such as ‘Spider’ and ‘Impossile Germany’, the nostalgia of the weekend slowly began to creep in. They steered us through the impending finale, of both their set and of the festival, with a great sense of introspection and calm – a mark of showmanship that is rarely executed at all, let alone with such unassuming expertise. “I guess that’s what we do.”
And with that, it was all over.
Next year, nestled in the side of the same canyon, hosted on the very same stages, Sasquatch! will take place once again. It might feature a different roster of artists, but the weekend as a whole, while impossible to describe in short form, promises to sow a similar outcome; an astounding event that will be fondly remembered by those lucky enough to experience it for many years to come.