11:44 am: Security is particularly tight today for some reason. As I walk toward the bag check, a large, intimidating-looking security man calls out to me and beckons me over. Turns out he’s trying to scare me by telling me there are drug-sniffing dogs, that I better not be trying to sneak anything in because I’ll get caught and thrown out of the festival. Do I really look that suspicious? I tell him I have nothing to hide and that as a member of the media, I’d be eminently stupid to try doing anything illegal.
11:49 am: They take my aerosol sunscreen on the way in, which, if you read Day 2’s Log-apalooza, represents inconsistent policy. I ask if I can at least spray myself down before I enter—they say that’s fine—and then turn in my contraband, asking them to respect healthy skin, please, by using it all on themselves and not throwing it away.
12:00 pm: I arrive at Smino because I’m not in the mood for vapid synth pop-rock. He’s got the crowd calling out the name of his crew, Zero Fatigue, a local collective that’s been building momentum over the past year. There’s even a customized faux-Lolla logo that says “Zeropalooza” gracing the screen at the back of the stage.
12:07 pm: Smino asks, “How many of y’all smoke weed in this motherfuckin’ house?” The crowd cheers. I immediately look back at the two cops in the audience, whom I happened to notice just a minute ago, and crack up. All they can do is sheepishly smile.
12:28 pm: Smino is a solid young performer! He shines with exuberance out there and shows no qualms about going into the crowd. Both his singing and rapping voices are powerful, and despite his constant insistence on having the crowd call out “Zero Fatigue” over and over, he’s charismatic enough that the act doesn’t grow stale. Just about the only thing that bothers me about his set is the utter lack of choreography and stage presence of his backing vocalists—a small quibble with an otherwise great opening performance.
12:32 pm: I have a nice conversation with a journalist friend about Vic Mensa’s set from last night, which is still on my mind. Then, I head to the Samsung stage for Lapsley’s set.
12:46 pm: Lapsley begins her subdued set and, oddly enough, sounds a little out of tune. This could easily be a monitor issue, given the issues with which Grimes dealt last night, but we’ll see if the problem resolves itself.
1:03 pm: The problem resolves itself. It takes a little while, and it doesn’t help that Lapsley’s music is far better suited for a darkened bedroom than for a sunny summer afternoon in Chicago, but eventually Lapsley finds her groove. The booming synths of “Love is Blind” fill Hutchinson Field, and once you become comfortable with the idea that she’s not going to try to rock your socks off, the performance becomes an ocean of swirling emotion.
1:25 pm: It really had begun when she covered Kate Bush’s “This Woman’s Work,” but the feels really kick in when Lapsley plays “Hurt Me.” Maybe it’s because “Hurt Me” is objectively her best song, or maybe it just encapsulates her spirit in a way that the other songs don’t quite do. It certainly helps to have the crowd getting into it with a slow-motion groove when your entire stage presence is a sort of non-presence.
1:36 pm: There’s a strange moment as I walk down Columbus Drive when the synth-pop of Oh Wonder and the EDM of Mija, on two different stages, seem to sync up on either side of me. An idea springs into my mind: what if Lolla synced the performances on all of its stages at once to create the ultimate mashup? It probably wouldn’t work as well as it does in my mind.
1:42 pm: Boy, late teens, basketball jersey: “A guy goes up to me and says, ‘Do you have any blow,’ and I’m like no, and then he’s like, ‘Do you want any blow?’”
1:54 pm: D.R.A.M.’s hype man gets things going with “That Part” and “M.A.A.D. City” played over the PA, then D.R.A.M. himself appears in a Coca Cola jersey, singing as he comes out. Like Smino, he addresses one of his great loves: weed.
2:10 pm: The beginning of the set has been a bit lackluster—D.R.A.M. has an alright voice and an ordinary stage presence—but then he plays his collaboration with Lil’ Yachty, “Broccoli.” All the phones come out to film. Everyone else is singing along. And oh my god, there’s a visible haze over the field that wasn’t here before. People are really getting into the spirit of the song, I guess.
2:14 pm: Half the audience leaves! They were only here for their veggies.
2:23 pm: D.R.A.M.’s set has been the polar opposite of Vic Mensa’s in terms of substance, but he’s just reached a new low: he’s put out a booty call to all of Chicago. He wants that “sweet sweet pussy” tonight. I’m no longer even going to attempt to take him seriously.
2:27 pm: After singing “Special,” his feature from Chance the Rapper’s Coloring Book, D.R.A.M. covers the beginning of “Everything In Its Right Place.” I’m more than a little shocked, given the vapidity of the rest of his set.
2:42 pm: There’s a beautiful little kiss cam moment as I wait for FIDLAR’s set to start at the Bud Light stage. The camera cuts to a guy and a girl, as is typical of a kiss cam. The guy quickly ducks out of frame, as if he’s on a very fast elevator. The girl reaches offscreen, grabs another girl—presumably her girlfriend—and they make out. The young, LGBTQ-supportive crowd is ecstatic.
2:46 pm: FIDLAR walks out on stage and from the very first note they play, a mosh pit has formed. The band launches into a rollicking cover of the Beastie Boys’ “Sabotage” that sets the bar high for the next hour of music.
3:13 pm: I’ve realized that FIDLAR and Fetty Wap make songs about surprisingly similar things: being broke, using substances, trying to make it past difficult life obstacles. The difference is that FIDLAR takes a very nihilistic point of view on life, as evidenced by their name, which stands for “Fuck it, dawg, life’s a risk.” Nihilism makes for excellent headbanging punk music, though, and FIDLAR is very good at making the audience lose its sense of self and mosh its worries away. The music sounds as if Sublime decided to get pissed instead of apathetic.
3:36 pm: “I’ve been waiting all festival for this kind of orgasm,” says some guy next to me as FIDLAR plays through “Bad Habits,” the rawest and most surprisingly emotional song of the set. Zac Carper has some serious daddy issues if the lyrics and his other comments between songs are to be believed.
3:49 pm: I’m probably a little over-hyped for Third Eye Blind’s set, and I’m not alone; the Petrillo stage has attracted a massive crowd. The mix sounds really bad when Stephan Jenkins and company begin, and it doesn’t improve for a good ten minutes. Maybe…they’ve just lost their mojo?
4:06 pm: Stephan Jenkins is trying to preach a philosophy of love and togetherness to the crowd, but it sounds pretty forced. Everyone sings along to “Never Let You Go,” providing the unity he so fervently seeks, but the song only reveals that Jenkins’ voice isn’t what it was in 1997.
4:34 pm: A mediocre-to-poor set is suddenly redeemed! All it takes is what Jenkins calls the best performance of “Jumper” that Third Eye Blind has ever given. Maybe it’s the huge audience belting out the chorus over and over; maybe it’s the fact that the band’s mix finally seems to click; maybe it’s just that “Jumper” is a really, really good song with an insanely catchy hook. But whatever’s happening, this is a magical moment that’s sending chills down my spine.
4:42 pm: “Semi Charmed Life” doesn’t quite live up to “Jumper,” and the set comes to an anticlimactic end. The only excitement is provided by the man in the wheelchair crowd surfing. He makes it all the way to the stage, and what kind of security guard is going to accost a dude in a wheelchair? The clever bugger spends half the song on stage right next to Jenkins.
4:51 pm: I can’t resist the allure of the bacon mac n’ cheese hot dog I see on the way to the press lounge. Hopefully this is superior to Burger King’s Mac n’ Cheetos.
4:53 pm: The hot dog is so good.
5:07 pm: I chill in the press lounge and listen to Halsey from afar. She’s talking about how there’s a lot more important things than her music, and how she feels stupid on stage in pink shorts when so much shit is happening in the world. “I hope you are standing here proud of your diversity, proud of your race, proud of your sexuality, proud of your faith,” she tells the crowd. According to local media friends, that’s just about the only part of her entreaty that resonates.
5:28 pm: Getting through the crowd to Mothers is incredibly difficult. I pretend I’m Stanford running back Christian McCaffrey and the throng of people on Columbus Drive are would-be tacklers in my way. After a bevy of dodges, ducks, dips, dives and dodges, I clear the street with nary a scratch. I should be getting some sort of prize for my agility.
5:43 pm: Mothers walks out onto the BMI stage and launches into an emotional set of heavy, psychedelia-infused rock. I’m most impressed not by Kristine Leschper’s ability to convey a profound sense of sadness—lots of up-and-coming bands are good at that—but by the band’s jamming, which features a lot of odd time signatures and tempo changes and trancelike, droning distortion. It’s sad, but not in a self-annihilating punk way or a sit-alone-and-cry singer-songwriter way. Instead, it sets you in a contemplative hypnosis; you reflect on your insecurities in a partially conscious manner while most of your soul is swept up by the music.
6:15 pm: Some asshole starts pressing up against me, even though there’s plenty of room and absolutely no need to invade someone else’s personal bubble. I don’t know why he’s doing this so close to the end of the set, and I don’t know why I didn’t tell him to back off. Probably just to avoid making a scene. At least I get in a parting shot at his group as they keep shoving their way forward. It’s people like this who have me excited that Lollapalooza is almost over.
6:22 pm: It’s also people like this: there’s a basketball jersey-wearing kid holding himself up against a tree as I leave the gorgeous guitar interplay and emotional performance of Mothers. There’s a pile of puke at his feet.
6:28 pm: I take a seat on the grass facing the Bud Light stage before Haim, with Bryson Tiller playing unremarkable Drake-esque R&B in the background, and I wait. I lie on the ground for a little bit, too tired to care if I’m soaking my back in vomit. (I’m not.) A four-day Lolla has been awesome, but dammit if I’m not tired from having to see as many show as possible and write about all of them.
6:47 pm: Haim is late. Time for some more camera fun.
6:49 pm: The band finally gets on stage, and holy hell do they turn out to be worth the wait. From the beginning of the first song, “If I Could Change Your Mind,” their blend of straight-up ‘80s sound—Danielle Haim sings as if she were impersonating Madonna impersonating Stevie Nicks—and nearly perfect onstage chemistry has me totally invested in the performance.
6:57 pm: Este Haim, the bass player, puts down her bass and takes lead vocals on a cover of Prince’s “I Would Die 4 U.” She makes her characteristic overly animated facial expressions even whilst singing, and the song ends with her picking her bass back up and forming a cool-looking guitar line dance with her sisters.
7:22 pm: After playing a song from their upcoming second studio album—from the sound of it, they’re upping the scale of their sound to further grandiosity—Alana Haim, the youngest of the sisters, announces that it’s time to get some shit off their chest. They play “My Song 5,” which absolutely bangs.
7:35 pm: Apparently, seeing Amy Winehouse at Lollapalooza 2007 was Haim’s great inspiration. RIP Amy Winehouse. RIP Harambe.
7:42 pm: “Falling” has turned into a long jam with guitar solo, and then suddenly all three of the sisters are wailing on a percussion kit. The crowd is loving this, as they’ve loved every single thing that’s happened during the set. Haim are masters at controlling the dynamics of a live performance, they’re quirky enough in their banter to charm even the most cynical of souls, and they’re a very tight live act. When their second LP hits the virtual shelves in the near future, they should be filling arenas.
8:04 pm: One last stop at the press lounge to charge up before LCD Soundsystem.
8:25 pm: The air reeks of puke and weed as I head to the field for the final performance of Lollapalooza 2016. It couldn’t be a more beautiful night in Chicago.
8:26 pm: LCD Soundsystem starts with “Us v Them.” The beat is already infectious, and because LCD’s songs are so long, it’s immediately apparent that the set will be dominated by cyclical, complex grooves, slow builds, and a dance fever built on hypnosis. There’s a giant disco ball above the stage, which looks like a laboratory what with all the synthesizers surrounding the band members.
8:34 pm: “Daft Punk Is Playing At My House” gets pretty intense. It proves that James Murphy’s voice has not deteriorated at all in the five years since LCD Soundsystem’s last live show before this reunion tour.
9:12 pm: I notice that my body is dancing seemingly of its own free will—nothing too crazy, but a very definitive groove of which I have no conscious control. This is the first time this has happened over the entirety of Lollapalooza, and it only increases in intensity over the over the course of “Yeah” and “Someone Great.”
9:26 pm: A Chinese lantern has been lit and is headed off into the sky. I follow it until it vanishes from sight. By that time, the band is playing “Losing My Edge,” and all eyes and ears are trained on Murphy. His monologue provides something for my head to do while my body continues to dance.
9:33 pm: People are chanting “LCD,” and Murphy says “thanks but we’re already here.”
9:41 pm: “New York, I Love You But You’re Bringing Me Down” is next. It’s a major change of pace from the dance tunes that preceded it, but that only increases the vigor of my body when the song eventually hits its climax. This is such a strange feeling, but I stop thinking about it and just enjoy.
10:14 pm: The show ends with “Dance Yrself Clean” and “All My Friends,” two emotional capstones topping an unbelievable performance and an unbelievable Lollapalooza.
This has been quite the experience—32 bands seen and more than 10,000 words written in four days. It’s probably been quite an experience for you, too, if you’ve read all of this. But if I may hold your attention a little while longer, here are my wrap-up thoughts on Lollapalooza 2016.
Teens in basketball jerseys and floral crowns are going to continue to be Lolla’s target audience. If their presence makes you severely uncomfortable, skip the festival (and all the other big, corporate festival, to be honest) and just hit up some of the aftershows. That was my Lolla experience last year, and it was wonderfully intimate.
Societal change is not going to be brought about at Lollapalooza, no matter how hard some of the artists try. Vic Mensa’s set could only have been more moving if he brought out Laquan McDonald’s family, and yet the vast majority of concertgoers surrounding me during his set fucking talked through all of his between-song speeches. Halsey made a valiant effort but didn’t seem to reach any new ears. Hell, even Tom Morello, the archetype of protest musician, seemed completely defanged in his two guest appearances. This is the price of a corporate festival—artists are expected to be inoffensive, and even the ones who buck that expectation find themselves surrounded by a system that is designed to commodify and commercialize the very culture of protest. Anyone who didn’t come to Lollapalooza already woke had no chance of hearing revolutionary rhetoric over the carefully manufactured, uber-capitalist din of the festival. Two symbols to consider: first, Grant Park is surrounded by Chicago’s beautiful skyline, the buildings of which are some of the great temples to American commercialism. Second, Grant Park was the location of the 20th century’s most famous protest, and now it’s occupied each summer by the antithesis of everything music meant to the protestors at the 1968 Democratic National Convention.
Four days is a long time for a festival, and some of the acts were thus a definite stretch in terms of quality, but apparently the fest drew more than 400,000 attendees this year, a new record. We already know that Lolla 2017 will also be four days…let’s hope that the undercard is a little more consistent.
The best acts I saw, in no particular order: Vic Mensa, LCD Soundsystem, Haim, Pinegrove, Grimes, Radiohead, Sunflower Bean.
Zach Blumenfeld will need awhile to recover from this endeavor. Follow him on Twitter.