Monolith Festival 2008: Day 1

For those who have never been to the Red Rocks Amphitheatre, picture an impenetrable mountain fortress. A skyscraper’s worth of stairs runs up and around the main stage, and two towering, triangular rock formations jut forth from the earth, framing an indescribably vast, epic scene.

With this year’s Monolith Festival, the venue was as much a star as anyone performing. In case you hadn’t heard, festival fatigue is sweeping the concert circuit, with lineups stretched taffy-thin and headliners recycled from the ‘90s-alt scrap heap. Monolith debuted at Red Rocks in 2007 with a top-heavy lineup, and 2008 seemed to overcompensate in the opposite direction. This year’s lineup presented an intriguingly deep roster of emerging talent, but boasted very few established stars to top the bill.

Basically, the crown was up for grabs, and it was up to the young lions of independent music to make their push for it. Many impressed, few disappointed, and my buddies and I were kept constantly on the run to sample all of the sounds available.

First, a wind sprint up those accursed stairs, then back down another flight and into the Red Rocks visitor’s center to check out the festival’s two indoor stages. Having acts confined to these darkened chambers seemed to defeat the purpose of doing this thing at one of America’s greatest outdoor venue, but these undercards were up to the task.
The windowless WOXY.com stage had the feel of an interactive museum exhibit, with San Francisco’s LoveLikeFire kicking off the festivities. Over galloping toms and dramatic, sustained guitar chords, singer Ann Yu belted out high notes from the depths of her slight frame. The band drew a solid crowd for its timeslot, and sent ‘em off grinning with a fiery reading of “From A Tower,” the group's finest song.

Next door at the Gigbot Stage, Colour Revolt presented a grittier, darker and altogether stranger experience. Melodies tangled within gnarled rhythms, creepily-close harmonies hovered in the air, and segments of the crowd were spooked away by the screamier moments. Final verdict? An intriguing shift of pace, but not quite the revelation I had hoped for.

At this point, we fled the underground music complex to catch our first act on the main stage, Oxford, UK’s Foals. It was good to see someone picking up the banner that guys from Q and Not U dropped when they disbanded, as nimble polyrhythms did battle with scratchy guitars and keyboards.

Kaiser Cartel made for a pleasant comedown from all of that combustible dance-rock. Playing the little orange dome that served as the festival's acoustic stage, the Brooklyn duo brought a loose brand of whimsy that attracted a sizable group of curious onlookers. The whistle-heavy “Season Song” still gives me the giggles.

Clearly, this festival layout was not designed with flabby rock journalists in mind. Up stairs, down stairs, out of breath, but just in time for the first of what I considered Day One’s “big guns”...

Blitzen Trapper
For all of its deafening breakthrough buzz, Wild Mountain Nation never fully convinced me that Blitzen Trapper was ready for bigtime status. However, judging by the new material the group previewed off of the upcoming Furr LP, I’m thinking I could be ready to hop aboard its roots-rock wagon.

First of all, these guys can pull some breathtakingly tight three-part harmonies out of their bag. Drummer Brian Adrian Koch was really getting his Levon Helm on, clenching his eyes shut and leaning close to his microphone to add some high notes to the blend.

Secondly, I had always thought of Blitzen Trapper as a sort of zany, unhinged rock project. But the slower stuff off Furr bared the group’s heart, and revealed that they’re more than just hairy goofballs. There was some weird imagery unfolding during these tracks, with skin turning into fur and people running through open fields.

At one point during the new material, a heckler called out, “Why don’t you play something worthwhile?” He clearly had some serious hearing damage.

Cut Copy
Rock ‘n’ roll’s self-appointed defenders tried to kill dance music back in the ‘70s. Good God, how they tried... with bonfires, sledgehammers, steamrollers and more. Never before or since has the world of music seen such a fascist determination to eradicate an entire genre.

Those leather-jacketed disco demolishers would probably have a hemorrhage if they could have looked into the future and seen how a bunch of glitterball-friendly Aussies named Cut Copy worked the Monolith crowd in 2008. These guys had the entire lower bowl of the main stage packed at 4:30 in the afternoon, and the crowd was just eating out of their hands. With each big crescendo, the spectators swelled in a massive, celebratory orgy. Hands were up, hips were swiveling, and everyone was wearing a serene grin.

Maybe the lyrics were a bit vapid, but there’s no denying the group’s dance-animal magnetism. Sorry, purists: the four-on-the-floor beat goes on.

Vampire Weekend
Some indie-music fans hate Vampire Weekend the same way some hockey fans hate Sidney Crosby. They’re the golden boys, prematurely handed the mantle of greatness by an overeager media. There’s no substance, the doubters say, just an overdose of empty flash and glamor.

In both cases, I think the naysaying stems primarily from jealousy.

Yeah, that crappy little rock combo you started in college? They never got as tight or crafty as Vampire Weekend has become. The Columbia University-bred quartet was easily the biggest draw of Day One, filling the entire main stage seating area (no small feat) and keeping the onlookers enthralled for their entire 45-minute set.

Ripping through the bulk of their self-titled debut (with a couple of new songs-in-progress thrown in), the lads rocked without a hair or note out of place. Sometimes I wonder if an onstage accident will someday reveal indie-pop androids underneath all of that trendy clothing.

Still, there are drawbacks to such surgical pop precision: Vampire Weekend has apparently infiltrated the frat houses. A rowdy choir of off-key warblers was ringing in my left ear for the whole set... at least when they weren’t calling up their buddies on their cell phones.

Silversun Pickups
“Wow,” Silversun Pickups frontman Brian Aubert said as he and his cohorts took the stage. And what the hell else was he supposed to say? These Californians were lucky enough to play the festival’s first evening show in the main amphitheatre, giving them a beautiful view of the iconic red rocks lit up beneath the night sky. Rain was beginning to mist in the air as the show started, but the group charged through its set without a thought for the elements.

I still marvel at how that voice comes out of Aubert’s body. Other than that, Silversun Pickups play some steady, bouncy and pretty unremarkable rock music. I probably danced more at their set than any other that day, though that was mostly to keep myself from freezing in the evening chill.

DeVotchKa
I retreated back to our party’s car to retrieve my jacket, and then hunkered down in the drizzle for the night’s headliner. Was local favorite DeVotchKa worthy of the honor? It was hard to say how they would have drawn in ideal weather, but as it was, only a small and devoted crowd formed in the lower bowl of the main stage to witness the final act.

Regardless, the group brought its cinematic sound to a new level for the event, with added string and horn ensembles bolstering the sweep of DeVotchKa’s multi-ethnic sonic tapestry. One of my friends tried to sum the spectacle up in a much-hyphenated genre label: “gypsy-folk-Russian-polka-rock.” Yup.

Just as hip-hop music seems to convince young, rhythmless white people that they are highly qualified dancers, DeVotchKa’s peppy jigs had the crowd believing they had studied European folk dance for years. A lot of people were kicking out their legs, throwing out their arms and shouting, “HEY!” indiscriminately. And yes, I was one of them.

DeVotchKa really shined during its romantic ballads, however. Frontman Nick Urata made love to the microphone like an indie Enrique Iglesias, while the strings wept and the horns bathed it all in a golden sheen. It had me longing for an old country that never existed.

And in the fantastical setting of Red Rocks, there really couldn’t have a better been act to cap the night.

Check out Paste's photos from Day 1 of Monolith 2008 here.