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There can only be one last show at Candlestick Park, and the fact that it was with arguably the most important song-writer alive, how could I say no?

Paul McCartney has history with this park. After all, it’s where the Beatles played their last official show in 1966. From the look of the boomers in the crowd, he’s been mostly playing to the same audience ever since.

We were the youngest people around for a good five rows in either direction. You could really tell the age of the crowd from the amount of worrying going on all around us, from the moment we got in line for the shuttle, to the moment we sat in our seats. Worry about getting there in time, worry about whether one could bring bags in, worry about what to do if Jim gets lost in the crowd when the show ends, worry about going up and down the stairs — if there’s one thing boomers do best, it’s worry.

They did, however, enjoy some special excitement when our shuttle bus driver squeezed on to the wrong side of the road and blew past the traffic to get us to the front door on time. It was the second best performance I saw that night.

One thing that was weird: the house music before the show was all remixes of famous Beatles songs. Rarely do you hear a playlist of music based on the artist you’re about to see. The boomers ate it up.

We managed to buy seats that were directly behind a 7-foot-tall asshole that danced as though he were not tightly packed in a crowd of people. I pitied the people next to him as the show started who had to constantly avoid his elbows as he spread his arms in joyous celebration. This modern day Chapman was killing any chance they would have a good time.

He kicked it off with some old stuff, but cruised quickly into some newer things from New – the songs fit perfectly into his canon despite the 50 year age difference. The stage was fucking unbelievable. The whole thing was made of LED panels, so the graphics extended from the wall behind him, all the way on to the stage where they stood. Also, the LED walls were incredible, super high resolution screens like nothing I’ve ever seen at a touring show. At one point, the whole front of the stage lifted McCartney up about 15 feet, to reveal another panel while he played some solo acoustic songs. Brilliant rigging, and a beautiful performance.

One of the highlights of the night came after he cranked out a bit of “Foxy Lady” at the end of a track, in the form of a story about Hendrix that I’ll paraphrase:

I was lucky enough to know Jimmy for a little bit when he came to London in 196X. We had just released a record called Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band, and we’d released it on Friday. His show was on Sunday, and he’d already learned how to play it, and we all went to see him and he kicked into it. But he did it all Jimmy Hendrix like, and he was using his whammy bar a lot *plays a chord and detunes it with his whammy bar* like that, you know? And back in those days, it would throw your guitar out of tune when you did that. So he goes to play the next song, and he’s completely out of tune, and he looks out in the crowd, and he says, “Is Eric out there? Eric are you there?” talking about Eric Clapton of course. And Eric was there, but he was trying to hide, of course, and Jimmy spots him and he says, “Eric, can you come up here and tune this thing for me?”

Like a typical old man, it didn’t really go anywhere, but the boomers ate it up. Then he told us, “I brought out this guitar because it’s the one I used to play this song on the original recordings in the 60′s,” before he played “Paperback Writer” on a pristine Gibson ES 335. That one guitar is worth more than everything I own and all my student loan debt combined. Gear lust, hard.

There were fireworks for “Live and Let Die,” which really got the blood flowing for the over 60 crowd. He finished the first set with “Hey Jude,” which is great because I was really concerned that would be the last song every played at this historic venue and it’s pretty damned cheesy with the na na na’s at the end. Thankfully, after two encores, he finished with “The End.” Clever, McCartney, clever.

When the lights came up and the people began to disperse, quite a few stuck around to take it all in. We saw people with grass in ziploc bags, and others in full niners regalia, walking around the perimeter, sitting at center field. I walked on top of the home dug out, as many a mascot had done before and looked out at this legendary park one last time before we left for the night. On our way home, a guy on the bus who wasn’t at the show told stories about the park: how he used to be a cushion boy and he’d get $0.25/cushion after the games, how he’d seen the Stones there, all the games he’d gone to at the Stick. Another guy showed us a sign he stole that said something about which direction one should walk. They’ll remember the park, and all I’ll ever know was the time I saw a Beatle say goodbye to an old friend on a cold night in Bayview.

Who’s the greatest songwriter alive? Vote below!

Setlist (courtesy of SF Appeal):

Paul McCartney setlist:
Eight Days a Week
Save Us
All My Loving
Listen to What the Man Said
Let Me Roll It
“Foxy Lady” interlude
Paperback Writer
Nineteen Hundred and Eighty-Five
My Valentine
The Long and Winding Road
Maybe I’m Amazed
I’ve Just Seen a Face
San Francisco Bay Blues
We Can Work It Out
Another Day
And I Love Her
Blackbird
Here Today
New
Queenie Eye
Lady Madonna
All Together Now
Lovely Rita
Everybody Out There
Eleanor Rigby
Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite!
Something
Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da
Band on the Run
Back in the U.S.S.R.
Let It Be
Live and Let Die
Hey Jude

Encore One:
Day Tripper
Hi, Hi, Hi
I Saw Her Standing There

Encore Two:
Yesterday
Long Tall Sally
Golden Slumbers
Carry That Weight
The End

I can now say I’ve been to two-and-a-half Outside Lands Music Festivals, and this is definitely the best one so far.

Here’s a recap of how it all went down:

Day 1

• My friend and former roommate came from Colorado to see the show, and my friend and current roommate scored a free VIP ticket at the last second, like an asshole. I stood amongst the muggles as he cast his disapproving gaze from the VIP section.
• First band: Run the Jewels. As I was walk in, a few people are saying, “I can hear Killer Mike,” so I’m wondering if this booking wasn’t a bit early in the day. I met my buddy next to the VIP fence and thought about what it means to be mediocre.
• The first conflict of a truly conflict-ridden schedule: Holy Ghost! vs. Warpaint. I’ve never Warpaint, and although I thought that album was pretty solid, I don’t think I could forgive myself for missing Holy Ghost!. Both of their full-lengths are at the top of my top 10′s from their respective years. Do you disco? I do.
• Goddamnit I wish this festival wasn’t 90% during the day. Fuckin’ whiny neighbors. You should be thanking your lucky stars that you can hear this for free instead of giving your city council member an earful, people.
• Fuck, I forgot to go to Nicki Bluhm. I coulda’ gone for that…
• Without question, this is one of the most well dressed festivals I’ve ever attended. It rivals Coachella Week 1 — fashion, not festival fashion. I see bloggers, designers, the carefully chosen wardrobes of clothing conscious connoisseurs. The costumes are few and far between.
• Chromeo vs. Grouplove. Well, I saw Chromeo on Tuesday at Red Rocks in Colorado, so the choice is simple. I love a good Grouplove show. “This is a homecoming show for me,” says singer Hannah Hooper. “I grew up in the Upper Haight, and I used to hang out in this park and smoke weed at a place called hippy hill,” she tells us before they play the eponymous “Hippy Hill.” The crowd woos their approval.
• Disclosure is this generation’s Daft Punk. This is without question the biggest crowd of the festival. I wasn’t there, but I suspect Tegan and Sara’s crowd consisted of six lesbians and a group of high school kids too young to drink, and too cool for dance music. It’s about time they get some new songs, though. I’ve seen them probably 5 times, and it’s practically always the same set. Someone tells me this is their last big stop before returning to the studio. It’s about time.
• You’re rolling at 6PM? Sure, you can touch my shiny jacket. You know what’s gonna be weird? When you’re rolling at Kanye.
• I laid on the hill and stared at the sky during Tedeschi Trucks Band. Her voice is cool.
• Oh is that Kanye? I’ll be at Arctic Monkeys not giving a fuck.
• The crowd is reassuringly large — maybe rock and roll isn’t dead (ha). The stage looks amazing, Alex Turner has a serious greaser thing going on — at one point he pulls a comb from his back pocket to slick his black hair back. They play some pretty serious rock and roll songs. It’s amazing how much more awesome these stages look at night. Damn shame there couldn’t be more of it. They played a little bit of everything, going back to my favorite album, Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not. I’ve heard tell of his stage presence. The rumors are true.

Day 2

• Dum Dum Girls at 12:30. It’s an ambitious plan: one that proves a bit too big. We do, however, manage to hear the set along our walk through the park. Waterfall, road beer, and “Rembrandt Eyes” — sad songs to serenade the overcast sky.
• Well fuck, now we’re here. We meet some more friends from Colorado just as The Kooks get cranking. You know what’s awesome about this band? Everything. This is what good contemporary rock is all about. I’ve seen them countless times, and every time, I’m jumping. “Do you want to see the world? Do you want to see the world a different way?” Yes I do, Luke Pritchard. Yes I do. They’ve aged, they’ve matured, they play new songs and announce a new record this fall.
• We had to miss Jagwar Ma. Conflicts, conflicts, conflicts.
• Fuck, I forgot about Cristopher Owens, which sucks because I’ve been listening to those Girls records a bunch lately. Fuckin’ Sutro.
• “They’re like LA’s answer to Grizzly Bear,” my friend says about Local Natives. She spends the rest of the time pining for the not-so-accidentally disheveled singer Andy Hamm. I have acquired some free beer from the uber-VIP though. Bottoms up.
• Beer lands. Beer lands is pretty cool. You know what else is cool? Being a goddamned adult and carrying a beer around the festival. Take note Coachella. Take fuckin’ note.
• Deer Tick? Nope. Tycho? Nope. Haim? Uh uh. So what did we go to next? The Duck Sauce soiree on the GastroMagic stage. A-Trak played a turntabalism set while friend and chef Brandon Jew cooked Duck Sauce. This is perhaps the most special thing that happened at Outside Lands. You can see any of these bands play at other festivals. You can get great beer and food and listen to cool music. You can’t see A-Trak throw out duck nuggets to the crowd anywhere else. Mind = Blown. Well done, Another Planet.
• Capital Cities. I met up with a chick from the internet (don’t ask) and almost immediately she poured a clear liquid she claimed was moonshine into my beer. These are the kinds of bad decisions I make regularly, these wreckless foolhardy choices. Worked out splendidly.
• On to Death Cab. Yep. There they are. Oh yeah, I remember this song. Someone hand me a beer. Aaaand we’re done here.
• Back across the lengthy festival grounds and on to Barbra Streisand Ooooooooooooooooo. Duck Sauce brings the party. No matter how many times I’ve see them, it’s always a good time. My friend informs me that’s Armin Van Helden and not Armin Van Buren. I’m Armin Van Drunk, so I don’t really give a damn. Thanks, clear liquid girl.
• Are we peeing here now? Beside the fence, in full view of the 10,000 people at the bottom of the hill? Yep. Yes we are.
• You know what’s awesome? Anyone you meet at Tom Petty is sure to be cool when Macklemore is playing on the other stage. For those of you who went to Twin Peaks instead of seeing a legend, I want you to step back and take a long hard look at what you’re doing with your life.
• Fuck, Petty looks terrible. Sounds great, looks like death.
• Fuuck, the heartbreakers look even worse. Someone remind these guys to take the Xanax after the show.
• I feel like they just cart this guy out, hand him a guitar, and he runs through the paces like an animatronic parrot in the Tiki Room at Disneyland. I’m not sure he has a single memory of the last 25 years. It’s just a blur of airplanes, busses, crowds, and drugs. I’m glad I caught him before he forgets how to be alive.
• People tell me he played a Grateful Dead cover. Some of them are excited about that. I’m more excited for the free tall boy that ended up in my hand.
• After the show we walk to a bar nearby and the people at our community table sing loudly (and maybe a little obnoxiously) to the classics playing overhead. I’m not too proud to sing along. Sadly, I’m the only one that knows the words to “Human Nature.”

Day 3

• Chvrches cancelled. Looks like we have another hour to nurse this hangover before cruising into Jenny Lewis, my must-see of the day.
• We scramble, we hustle, we hear Flume from across the park, and it all pays off as we walk in exactly as the the most beautiful woman in music takes the stage. Ms. Jenny Lewis, you are truly a vision in your pretty silk suit.
• I’m disappointed in the size of the crowd. What could be more important than this? Still, we walk right up to the front. I’m close enough to hear her actual voice going into the mic.
• She plays three Rilo Kiley songs from Under the Blacklights. One of them is “Silver Lining,” a song I once heard her introduce by saying, “This one goes out to my band,” shortly after the breakup of RK. Rekt.
• A security guard lights through the crowd and tackles a kid in a hoodie during one of the songs. When the track ends, Lewis says, “You got busted bro! I’m there with you,” as they basically drag the kid out by his earlobes. My well-connected friend said she sees him backstage and he’s missing a shoe.
• Jenny brings out the members of Lucius to sing backup on “Acid Tongue.” For a moment after the track, the band becomes confused about when their set ends, leaving the stage. They still have 10 minutes left, and I’ll be damned if she’s going to get off this stage without playing, “She’s Not Me.”
• She’s playing “She’s Not Me.” I call this festival a success.
• I love Spoon, but we opt for Lykke Li. I’ve never seen a full set from the swedish princess, and now seems like as good time as any. They’re all in all black. It’s hot, and the sun is directly in their face. I admire their fortitude as they press through their set. One commentary: Less talky, more music.
• Is that girl peeing there, right next to the ambulance. With the ambulance drivers still in the ambulance? In front of the mob of people walking by? Why yes, it is.
• “We should probably go to the Flaming Lips.” “I know but it’ll probably be boring.” My hunch proved true. Oh weird costumes? Great. Funny characters? Thrilling. 8 minute songs that drone on about nothing? Fuck it, let’s go to Cut Copy.
• This is probably the biggest crowd I’ve seen on the Twin Peaks stage. It’s a typical Cut Copy set. “We’re going to make this the best moment of the whole fucking festival,” singer Dan Whitford says with lofty ambition.
• This might be the best moment of the whole goddamned festival. Just kidding, there aren’t even any duck nuggets.
• The crowd definitely stretches back well beyond Wine Lands (of course they have wine lands. It’s next to Cheese Lands), definitely to  the panhandle stage.
• We walk past the GastroMagic stage again, and lo-and-behold, another awesome thing. The guy from Hot Tub Time Machine is playing drinking jeopardy with two teams of four. One team is considerably drunker than the other team. They answer with the acumen of a stoned 15-year-old. It’s a slaughter, both in the comedy and the points. Again, GastroMagic stage for the win.
• We catch the end of Ray LaMontagne. I really do love this guy, but at this point in the evening, his rich, soulful songs contrast with my research into the effects of alcohol (conclusion: “When taken in sufficient quantities, [it] produces all the effects of intoxication”).
•  We mosey over to the Killers and move in deep on the left side. I’m from Las Vegas, I go to countless shows and festivals, and this is the first time I’ve ever seen one of the biggest rock bands in the nation.
• There’s been a lot of questions about Brandon Flowers’ sexuality. Let’s put it this way, if he was trying to escape detection by blending into a crowd, his best chance for anonymity would be inside Badlands in the Castro.
• Ronnie Vannucci Jr. is wearing a shirt that says “fuck cancer.” I used to see this guy in his former ska band, Attaboy Skip when I was in middle school, and it looks like he’s only gotten cooler.
• I gotta say, they do know how to crush. Everyone knows all the words and sings along.
• They play two covers: “Sitting on the Dock of the Bay” and “Bad Moon Rising” — the latter in tribute to the full moon that hung above the packed polo field.
• I can see the lights from Tiesto flashing in the distance. I know he’s a big deal, but the number of fucks I give about his career aligns pretty closely with Brandon Flowers’ interest in vaginal intercourse.
• And with that the festival draws to a close. We mosey out to the street and crowd on to a packed shuttle bus that drops us downtown. The people on it sing songs about a guy named Dan.

See you next year, Outside Lands.

June 2, 2014

Here’s the highlights from the second night of The Faint’s three-night set in San Francisco:

• I had an extra ticket and a buddy set me up on a blind date with six of his friends that were going. They were meeting up at a place called Wine Kitchen before the show, and I joined them. I thought it was weird to go to a wine bar before a Faint show, but fuck it. It all drunks the same.
• The girl who’s buying my ticket is an intern at the company that employs almost the whole group. She’s in grad school and only here for the summer. We talk art. She likes the Hudson River School, and she has funny shoes with bows on them. She covers my wine to cover her ticket.
• We arrive just as Reptar is finishing, which is unfortunate because I like some of their tracks. It’s got a real Rapture vibe to it, and not just in the way that some people think they have the same name. The three songs I caught were quality, poly-rhythmic, percussive dance music. And fuck don’t they look young.
• Between sets, I notice how the 30+ crowd is well represented; these are the same people who’ve been coming to these shows for the last 10 years. Black haired hipsters, a little bigger than before, but every bit as stoic. Still, there’s girls in sequin dresses and well dressed women that belong just as well in an art history department talking about the merits of Moran’s depiction of Yellowstone as they do witnessing the pinnacle of dance-punk.
• I talk with another girl in our group. She’s from Denver and we’d both seen the Faint there at the Ogden years ago. I think she’s the only one besides myself that really knows why we’re all here.
• And then, the Faint. I’ve seen them probably six times and it never gets old. Here’s a video of my face during their set.
• Incendiary.
• Sadly, the crowds of San Francisco are either too socially awkward or too holier-than-thou to dance, even when their faces are melting. Thankfully, the well-intoxicated crew I stumbled in with seems to be immune to those two conditions, and we rage along the back. Denver girl and I sing along to every song.
• The Hudson River girl wants to be spun. She moves from guy to guy holding her hand up, waiting for him to twirl her around like a music box ballerina. Another guy is basically laying on the ground in a limbo like maneuver. The rest of the crowd looks down their noses, and tightens their crossed, disdainful arms.
• Toward the end, a pit begins to form, and I take that opportunity to charge headlong into it. This is what a Faint show should be like, except it should encompass the entire venue. People should be fleeing the building. Blood should spill. The timid should fear for their lives, and for a moment, it seems like we’re close. Then the band bows and exits stage right.
• We clap. We scream. We chant rhythmically. For a moment, I worry they won’t return, but they do. “What are they even going to play?” I ask the stranger next to me. “Fuck, I don’t even know. I think they played everything.“
• “I think this is the longest set we’ve ever played,” singer Todd Fink says. He might be right. Then they played “Paranoia” and finished with “Glass Danse,” while the crowd returned to a mostly still position. Fuck you, San Francisco. Get your shit together.
• Some chick is crying. Of course she is.
• I asked a guy for a setlist. He gave it to me. Check it out below.
• Every time I leave a Faint show, the majority of the crowd comes out looking like Madonna with no makeup on. This is no exception
• After the show, the crew I came in with heads to Madrone and I make a long walk home to the Mission, thinking about New York City, and how much better these city streets look when there’s nobody on them.

Reptar

The Faint

How stoked are you? Vote below!

New Zealand singer Lorde announced plans to return to North America this fall today, including a stop at Austin City Limits festival in October.

Considering her first single, “Royals,” is now quadruple platinum and the fact that she won “Song of the Year” and “Best Pop Solo Performance” awards at the 2014 Grammy Awards, I’d say we can expect this tour to sell out with a quickness.

Lorde 2014 Tour Dates:
08/01 – Lollapalooza – Chicago, IL
08/03 – Osheaga – Montreal, QC
09/05 – Mann Center – Philadelphia, PA
09/06 – Boston Calling Festival – Boston, MA
09/07 – Artpark – Lewiston, NY
09/11 – Ottawa Folk Festival – Ottawa, ON
09/12 – TD Echo Beach – Toronto, ON
09/14 – JBL Live at Pier 97 – New York, NY
09/15 – United Palace – New York, NY
09/16 – United Palace – New York, NY
09/18 – The Red Hat Amphitheater – Raleigh, NC
09/22 – Grand Ole Opry House – Nashville, TN
09/23 – LC Pavilion – Columbus, OH
09/24 – Jacobs Pavilion at Nautica – Cleveland, OH
09/26 – BMO Harris Pavilion – Milwaukee, WI
09/27 – Harrah’s Casino, Stir Grove – Council Bluffs, IA
09/28 – 1STBANK Center – Broomfield, CO
09/30 – The Joint – Las Vegas, NV
10/02 – Greek Theatre – Berkeley, CA
10/06 – Greek Theatre – Los Angeles, CA
10/09 – Santa Barbara Bowl – Santa Barbara, CA
10/10 – Cal Coast Credit Union Open Air Theater – San Diego, CA
10/10 – 10/12 @ Austin City Limits – Austin, TX (Weekend 2 only)

• Hey Champ came out and played some Hey Champ songs. Sadly, some asshole in the balcony decided to embarrass his friends and did so without falling over the edge and breaking his face. Thank you for your contribution sir, but how about you do us all a favor and shut the fuck up for, say, the rest of your life.
• “There’s a lot of babes here.”
• Hey Champ doesn’t finish with Cold Dust Girl. I’m thinking about how it’s still their best track, and maybe one of the best indie dance tracks of the last 10 years.
• The drunk couple in front of me are doing that thing where they spoon while standing up and bounce from side to side. For some reason we call that “dancing.”
• Drunk guy comes back from the bar with a beer for himself and a drink for the girl. He drops the drink on the table next to me, points to it and explains to her that her drink is the one in the pile of broken glass. Doesn’t go get her another one. Back to grinding. Girl looks like she needs a drink.
• Between bands, Popscene’s Aaron Axelson killed it as always. He’s really one of the best parts of these shows.
• Some chick just did a handstand and then fell down into the worm, which she did amazingly well.
• Some chick who didn’t see it the first time made the worm chick do it again. Still badass.
• They’re doing last call. Something about Rickshaw being in trouble so they have to do it early. I get two beers, just to be safe.
• French Horn Rebellion comes out with — wait for it — a french horn.
• They’re killing it. I forgot how many of these songs I love. Drunk couple is loving it from the look of their grinds.
• They seem to be down one brother from the last time I saw them. No, his actual brother, you racist.
• He brings out two more french horn players. I don’t remember their name. No one remembers their name.
• Show ends. Solid performance. We strike up a conversation with two Brazilian girls on vacation who speak broken english, don’t have an American phone number, and are headed to Vegas in two days. “I should go to Brazil,” I think.
• Night: done.

Dave Chappelle has announced three shows in June at the Radio City Music Hall in New York City.

According to the Radio City Music Hall website:

For these shows, Chappelle will combine his greatest love, stand-up comedy with his second love, music. The connection between improvisation and timing will be on full display as Chappelle co-headlines with a special musical guest each night, including The Roots, Erykah Badu, Busta Rhymes, Janelle Monáe, DJ Premier and more to be announced. A full orchestra will enhance the concert experience.

Tuesday June 24th:  Dave Chappelle and The Roots
Wednesday June 25th:  Dave Chappelle, Busta Rhymes, DJ Premier, and Janelle Monáe
Thursday June 26th:  Dave Chappelle and Erykah Badu

As Chappelle approaches the 10th Anniversary of his concert movie Block Party, filmed in 2004, in Brooklyn, this run of shows at Radio City are Chappelle’s first announced NYC engagement in over 10 years.

Tickets will be between $59 and $125 and will go on sale on June 2nd at 10AM with an American Express pre-sale in the days before. This will be a show that sells out in minutes, so if you’re going to be in New York, be ready.

Two album of the year contenders performed together at the Independent in San Francisco last night.

Mr. Little Jeans continued her ongoing streak of being the cutest fucking Norwegian girl I’ve ever seen, playing a flawless set while wearing a long flowing skirt, tights, and mary janes. Seriously, there’s an entire sub-reddit of baby elephant gifs and I don’t think a single one is as adorable as she is.

SOHN wore a hood the whole show. Well, his head was covered. It might have been a pashmina but I don’t really know what that word means, so let’s call it a hood. It was black, so there’s that. He played piano and worked effects the whole time, complemented by two supplementary fellas on keys and bass behind him. The light bar things were kind of cool, but it’s tough to be impressive with lights these days, considering the scale of what’s possible. I think I heard two songs I didn’t recognize, so he’s got some tricks up his sleeve.

Overall, I’d give this one to Mr. Little Jeans. She could have used a longer set, especially considering it was only the two of them and they started late.

No joke: I went to Paris last year just to see Breakbot. Granted, I was already in Europe and I had friends that were going to be there, but I don’t know if I would have made the trek if it wasn’t for Thibaut Berland’s appearance with Ifrane and a live band at Solidays Festival.

And it was amazing.

Today, a friend shared this video of Breakbot playing at La Bellevilloise from 2012. It has a distinct Soul Train kind of feel, with dancers making moves on stage with Berland, star filters for the lights, and 70′s fashion that’ll make you say “Whoa.”

It’s a 40 minute set, and it’s 40 minutes well spent.

Get your Saturday started right.

It wasn’t until I saw her live that I realized the similarities between Jessy Lanza and Grimes.

Both are Canadian.

Both perform alone, managing  samples and playing parts live on stage.

Both use simple synth pieces and rely heavily on layered vocals to create texture.

Listen to Oblivion by Grimes and Giddy by Jessy Lanza and I think you can see a lot of similarities. See them both live, and I think you’ll find more.

But what sets Lanza noticeably apart is the sex appeal of her music. Whereas Grimes is cute and child-like in her approach to production, Lanza is deep, seductive, sexy. She draws you in with breathy vocals, and holds you down with hot hooks and and big bass-driven beats.

On the stage, I think she still has a lot of room to grow. Musically, it was superb — her mix sounded fantastic, she uses her voice spectacularly well, wafting layers of sound  across the crowd with these sort of faint, growing crescendo’s that hang in the air like perfume. But her performance is almost shy, lacking the confidence of tried and true performers. She rarely looked at the crowd, focusing instead on her keyboards. Everything was tight, for sure, but I was left wondering, “Where’s all that sexiness we hear on the record?”

I was struck by the crowd too — it wasn’t the young, all-girl crowd one would expect from a Grimes show. Instead, it seemed older, and mostly composed of people I would expect to see combing through record stores in search of a first pressing of a Boards of Canada record.

Saint Pepsi opened with Will Smith’s 1997 classic, “Gettin’ Jiggy Wit It” and played some trappy remix of “Call Me Maybe.” Pretty much sums him up.