Moneypenny – Well rested and full of pancake, we stop off at Perry’s stage to catch a little Moneypenny. DJ Mother Hubbard and DJ A-Cup melt my face immediately. And then DJ A-Cup, who is scorching hot in 1980s, Ratt-inspired hair and black t-shirt/undies ensemble, prances to the front of the stage with four girls in silver face paint, black shrouds and silver gym shoes. The ladies proceed to jeté around the tiny stage while DJ A-Cup has several orgasms into the microphone. I am in love.
Federico Aubele – We leave the heat of the Moneypenny set to roast in the heat of the sun. Thankfully, much of the slop from yesterday has turned back into a ground-like substance. Federico, who looks like a cross between Andy Samberg and Bob Dylan, plucks at his guitarra in a completely inoffensive fashion. My wife refers to it as “dinner music.” It kind of is, but it’s still a nice companion for a Bud Light.
Animal Collective DJ set – What Animal Collective DJ set? Oh, you mean they are having a DJ set? While I'm standing here? I don’t think so. Really? But I just see two guys talking to each other and twiddling the occasional knob while a few strains of music quietly leak out of a speaker somewhere in the vicinity. Are you sure they're playing?
Arctic Monkeys – I expect snot rock. I expect bouncy, jangly attitude from pub brawlers. I expect to bop up and down. I get Rush. I get confused. I get up and go to the portapotty.
Santigold – The evening starts to pick up here, and it doesn’t let up, thankfully. Santigold sounds outstanding. Every song that she plays, I’m like, “Oh yeah, I love this song.” Except for Unstoppable. That song should be stopped. A portly white man in dire need of a shampoo gyrates wildly close to my blanket. I watch him since I can’t see the stage. He is a serviceable dancer. Santigold plays a cover of Killing an Arab, which absolutely kills. I find myself wishing The Cure would play Lolla.
TV on the Radio – My favorite act of the fest. These guys suck the everlovin’ marrow out of every single song and spit it all over the audience. Love Dog turns into an epic opener once the sound gets tweaked. Young Liars into a surprising yowler. Wolf Like Me into an unsurprising headbanger. Dancing Choose into 4 cans of Red Bull. Staring at the Sun is a beautiful close to a beautiful set. Can’t wait to see them in a proper venue.
Diplo – With the fail at Animal Collective’s DJ set, it is a difficult decision to not run over to the southside to catch their “regular” set. From everything I hear, they put on a disappointing show, and I am not left with Fleet Foxes levels of regret. Instead I catch Diplo, a blonde beanstalk in a black suit serving up big meaty beats in a spicy red sauce. I am amazed at how skillfully he works the crowd, playing us more than he does the music itself. And even though the every-2-minute climax is predictable, it never fails to get my hands in the air. The fest’s biggest surprise for me.
Yeah Yeah Yeahs –Karen O is a force to be reckoned with. She comes out in full peacock regalia, and owns the night the second she hits the stage. No one in the crowd is thinking about the Beastie Boys until the guitarist throws a Whatcha Want riff at the end of Phenomena. One thing I can say for Karen O, she definitely treats the microphone like a penis. Another thing I can say, wait, I'm distracted, she has that microphone in her mouth.
Planxa de la Mercat – We hit the hotel bar for a quick drink and cheese nibble and then head over to this trendy little Barcelona-market-inspired hot spot. Morsel after morsel of edible food at a fraction of the cost of other restaurants (the fraction has a higher numerator than denominator, FYI).
Next up, we wrap up the Lolla report with a truncated Sunday and a few observations on life in general.
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