All photos courtesy of Daniel Jackson.
Just as I was becoming a pro at finding optimal viewing spots for each stage, learning the shortest beer line, and memorizing which bathrooms were the cleanest, the last day of Fun Fun Fun Fest set upon me. The final day of any music festival is bittersweet and Austin’s music and comedy hybrid was no different.
The day started at the Orange stage with Angel Olsen, who stared out into the crowd behind a pair of large maroon sunglasses that covered her cat-like eyes. She wore a simple, all black wardrobe comprised of a plain tee, mid-thigh skirt and tights. The singer, whose vocals convey a very Patsy Cline cadence, sang somber and vulnerable songs from her last three records. Olsen’s attitude was straightforward, even fierce, though her country crooner twang and often yodelly vocals made her sound as if she was on the verge of tears. The audience was quiet and pensive listening to the Nashvillian attentively, captivated by her beauty and sadness. With quivers coming from her lowest register, Angel sang “Acrobat” from 2012’s Half Way Home, “I want to be the bed you mess.” She continued on to this year’s studio release Burn Your Fire for No Witness with seductive austerity, “I feel so much at once that I could scream.” Although her melancholy vibe contrasted with the sunny and breezy Sunday afternoon, Olsen’s set was truly captivating.
Not much later, Deafheaven, a metal band from San Francisco, hit the Black stage. George Clarke was dressed in black from head to toe and his perfectly coiffed hairstyle made him look more like a GQ model than the screaming frontman for an experimental metal ensemble. From the first song Clarke was incredibly dynamic, picking up and dropping his mic stand from the back of the stage to the front. The lead singer peered out into the audience with a piercing glare as he grabbed onto the mic, tilted its stand at a 45 degree angle and screamed so hard that his face turned red. The black metal dudes performed pummeling tracks from the critically acclaimed Sunbather, delivering the dichotomy between dissonance and radiance that engrossed us last year with magnetic precision.
There were moments where harsh guitar riffs soared into gorgeous heights and sped toward heaven as Clarke walked to the edge of the stage, tilted his head back and stood arms out, the sun beaming down on his palms. The disarmingly attractive singer then diverged again into the deafening screams from the album’s title track. The pit pulsed with raw energy below him, crowd surfers jumped on stage and flung themselves back into the outstretched arms of the mob. When Clarke fell to his knees, giving in to his own intensity, dozens of hands reached out to him. Every person who pressed tight against the stage lengthened their bodies in an attempt to graze even just a fingertip across the frontman. When a young kid leapt on the stage and held on to Clarke for an intense embrace then dove back into the pit, it was easy to feel like I was witnessing a religious experience. By the end of the set, the entire audience felt lightheaded and so did I.
After I regained my composure, I headed back over to the other side of the park where the alluring and provocative Dum Dum Girls took the Orange stage. The mostly female group, save for one guitarist, was fronted by Dee Dee Penny. Penny looked lithe in black leggings, an off the shoulder flowing top and cateye sunglasses. Jules, Malia, and Sandy matched her all-black attire and dark sunglasses. The girls started out the set with material from their latest album, Too True, playing tracks like “Cult of Love” and “Rimbaud Eyes.” The breathy, feminine vocals and lo-fi sound nodded to new wave acts like Siouxsie and the Banshees and Blondie. Dee Dee was cool and slightly aloof as she swayed her hips gently and sporadically removed the tambourine hanging from her microphone stand to tap it against her palm. With each hip-swaying song I conjured up images of a dimly lit basement venue and an overzealous fog machine, creating dramatic and low budget 80’s videos in my head. When Dee Dee began the popular “Lost Boys & Girls Club” it felt almost criminal to watch the girls perform in daylight. Towards the end of the set, Dee Dee grabbed her guitar and the band performed “I Got Nothing” from 2012’s EP End of Daze. Just as the sun began to get lower in the sky, bassist Malia told us she was happy to be back in her home state and they closed out their setlist.
Next up on the Orange stage were longtime indie rockers from Jersey, Yo La Tengo. Even though they’ve been making music since before I was born, the band still exudes a youthfulness which, from the onset, brought a lighthearted and playful vibe to the stage. “Autumn Sweater” from 1997’s I Can Hear The Heart Beating As One was a perfectly mellow anthem for the November evening air. The heartfelt and inspiring single “Ohm” from last year’s Fade proved there is no end to the band’s ability to create simple, lush melodies even with 12 prior albums. Ira Kaplan and James McNews’ vocals blended perfectly while Georgia Hubley on drums kept the beat steady behind them. The nearly 2 minutes of the repeated “resisting the flow” at the end of the song were no match to the almost 20-minute jam that followed. McKnew appeared to be in a trance as the bassline thudded forward with no apparent end in sight. Kaplan freaked out on guitar, took the instrument and twisted it around his body, then placed it on his head. The persistent bassline and wacky guitar acrobatics carried on for the rest of the set as the crowd tapped their feet and nodded their head up until the very end.
A break for a beer and a bite to eat later, I took my first visit of the day to the Blue stage. The fest grounds had long since grown dark and across the lawn I could see two glowing eyes on stage. I heard Steven Ellison, better known as Flying Lotus, enthusiastically ask “ya’ll gonna make it happen in Austin tonight?” to which a sea of people responded with inspired affirmations. The incredibly original electronic/hip-hop musician positioned himself on stage between two giant screens, each one projected various geometric patterns and futuristic shapes. All I could see of the experimental solo artist were the two eyes of light he wore on his head, gleaming from within the space chamber. The electronic beats glided across the park, their sonic pulse penetrated my ear buds, causing a web of neurons to fire off in my brain.
In between each song the “Flying Lotus” logo would appear across the screen, as if anyone could forget who they were watching. After the first few songs, Ellison stopped to say “hi guys” and giggled mischievously. Following a roar from the audience, he returned us to his stellar soundscape. Gamers and non-gamers alike freaked out when Lotus dropped samples from Final Fantasy VII, the imagery on the screen making them feel as though they were “bouncin’ on that astral plane.” About three-quarters of the way through his set, Ellison appeared from behind the screen in a suit and teased the crowd by welcoming out an Earl Sweatshirt who wasn’t actually there. He then ducked back behind the screen and continued to hype up the crowd with several evil laughs. The vibe went from galactic to psychedelic as the projected images gave way to a colorful trip. Before I knew it, the just under-an-hour set was over and Ellison told Austin how much he wished he could hang out, then ultimately concluded with “fuck it, let’s get high and drunk after this.” There was no other artist I would have been more excited to join. As I walked over to buy a shirt to remember my favorite act of the entire fest, it occurred to me just how much Flying Lotus is leaving his peers in cosmic dust. With a sound that is so intelligent, progressive, and inspired, Ellison should be cockier than Kanye.
For the last set of my Fun Fun Fun Fest experience, I returned to the Orange stage for Neutral Milk Hotel. Before the band hit the stage, a warning on the screen stage right and a booming voice overhead announced “at the artist’s request” no photography or video would be allowed. I felt a sense of relief as I wouldn’t have to bob and weave my head around dozens of tiny screens in front of me. The night grew colder and finally Jeff Mangum came out solo to perform “I Will Bury You in Time” from 2001’s Live at Jittery Joe’s. He wore a well-worn cap on his head and a long graying beard on his face. After his intro the rest of the band joined him for a huge raucous that was “Holland, 1945.” The band was rowdy and excited, Julian Koster jumped around the stage in a way that reminded me of a kid on Christmas morning, playing with his new toys in a knit cap with dangling ear flaps. I hopped along with him, shook my hair and yelled out the lyrics to my favorite NMH song. The words came back to me easily, finding their way from a time in my twenties when their most popular album had a permanent spot in my rotation. The wild honks from the horns on stage warmed me as I sang “now we must pick up every piece of the life we used to love.” The Athens ensemble kept the excitement high and moved on to “Two-Headed Boy,” each person around me more jittery than Mangum’s guitar strumming. Then, a calm came over the crowd as some of the most beautifully-written lyrics floated across the night air, “the world that you need is wrapped in gold silver sleeves, left beneath christmas trees in the snow.” When the strumming slowed, the audience softly sang along “dee dee dee” with Mangum until the horns seamlessly took us into “Fool.” Koster toggled between his bass guitar and musical saw until they all said goodbye and left the stage. After a short time, the band reappeared to play “Engine” from Ferris Wheel on Fire released in 2011 but originally recorded as an outtake from 1998’s In the Aeroplane Over the Sea.
