Review: Hangout Festival, Day Three

As the afternoon rolled on I found myself sweating to the southern comforts of JJ Grey & Mofro, followed by Drive-By Truckers. At the Grooveshark Stage JJ Grey’s pipes of pure southern soul complimented Mofro’s funky blend of R&B blues rock. Trumpeter Dennis Marion added a hint of be bop jazz to the mix with several sultry breakdowns.

Drive-By Truckers followed suit in the Boom Boom Room. The tent was far too overcrowded with painted Girl Talk fans and far too hot. I attempted to fight my way to the photo pit, but it was no use. Regardless I hung out and watched the band from the side lines. Drive-By Truckers played several songs of their latest record Go-Go Boots, along with covers of Alabama notables Lynard Skynard and Eddie Hinton.

At last it was the moment I had been waiting for all weekend, Ween. All biases aside Ween owned their set making them my favorite performance of the weekend, My Morning Jacket being a close second (followed by the Flaming Lips, but who’s counting?). The party started with the instrumental Fiesta followed by the cold sea-wash She Wanted to Leave. Ween brought it back to the beach with the tropical Bananas and Blow. They took their set through twists and turns of psychedelic rock to raging anthems to smooth jazz to playful sea shanties. Guitarist Dean Ween explored his guitar pedals setting into extended rock solos with experimental effects.

The Black Keys were on after Ween, leading the crowd to grow in numbers. Peering around it was clear who was a Ween fan and who was awaiting the Black Keys based on facial expressions; the general reading was frightened looks of confusion vs. crazed excitement. The boys won all hearts, including the hesitant ones, with a cover of David Bowie’s Let’s Dance. Naturally a wild dance party ensued. Vocalist Gene Ween took on a completely different being, and transformed into a goblin king on the spot. His voice rooted from the bottom of his lungs and rang across the beach with complete glam rock appeal.

It was strange but the Ween crowd was far more rowdy than the Primus crowd, especially when they busted out hard hitting sing-alongs You Fucked Up and My Own Bare Hands. They really got the crowd going when Deaner menacingly called out to the ocean: “Hey you! You on the boat! Can you hear us? FUCK YOU!” Naturally the crowd loved the gesture and proceeded to simultaneously cheer and shout obscenities. Ween fittingly closed out with Ocean Man followed by The Mollusk. Gener’s parting words were: “Thank you! I’m gonna go smoke a joint with Paul Simon!” I wonder if he ever made that happen…

Ween certainly riled people up and left a hint of testosterone in the air, making them a tough act to follow. The Black Keys certainly rose to the challenge, and played one hell of a rock show saturated in Midwest roots. Percussionist Patrick Carney’s heavy hitting drumming rattled the audience as vocalist/guitarist Dan Auerbach’s seductive crooning had girls crying out for more. As powerful as the Black Keys were, I was too worn out and distracted by the crowd to fully embrace their charge. Thousands turned out to see them and walking through the sea of people on the sand was no easy task. Their popularity had exploded this past year, definitely making them worthy of  a main stage set.

In heat of Black Keys traffic I managed to find my crew from the crowd. As we waited in line for falafel wraps we could hear the sweet sounds of Paul Simon wafting from the distance. In haste we rushed to the opposite side of the beach, and made it halfway through the opening Crazy Love, Vol. II.

I was surprised to see the turnout for Simon was a fraction of what the Foo Fighters drew the previous night. Journeying through the crowd to find a comfortable spot was surprisingly easy. The temperature finally cooled off and the crowd had thinned. Listening to Simon’s soulful soprano vocals mesh with iconic rhythmic melodies was an unreal, peaceful experience. The moment’s only flaw was the sound was soft, making it difficult to hear quieter numbers amongst the festival chatter.

Simon was backed by an eight piece army of multi-instrumentalists, including two keyboardists, two drummers, backup vocalists and percussion galore. 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover sparked an experimental dance party in the sand, where people primarily hopped and skipped in place, waving their arms and occasionally twirling. My favorite dance party of the weekend, by far, was during You Can Call Me Al. Everyone, regardless of their proximity or mental states, rose to their feet and proceeded to dance. Literally the entire beach was up in arms, shaking hips to each horn burst and swaying through the chorus. Simon treated his admirers to two encores, ultimately ending with Graceland’s Boy in the Bubble.

Simon’s dazzling performance was topped with fireworks, a fantastic capstone to a truly fantastic weekend. I felt fortunate to witness some of my favorite live bands on one line up, plus the pleasure of Paul Simon on the Gulf Shore of all places. As I whine about singed, pealing skin and awkward tan lines I realize that I would not have wanted it any other way.

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One Response

  1. Douchebag 17 year old asked me who Paul Simon was during the Black Keys. Gives you an idea of what the crowd was like down there.

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