Friday was a party, but Saturday was an education. My lineup for the day felt like reconstructing the cultural milieu that had birthed nu metal from scratch. Thunderstorms cut the day short and caused a rapid recording of the schedule, but I persisted despite the rain. The greatest performance of the day goes to the stagehands and technicians, who were able to reorient themselves on the fly and still deliver the best experience possible with less prep time and no soundchecks, while still keeping attendees happy and their equipment safe.
Morrissey
“The thunder, the lightning, we’re all going to die.” That was how the infamously dour Englishman started his Riot Fest set before launching into “Billy Budd.” Whether or not he would appear at all was a big question for the day, given his habit of last-minute cancellations and having his set time cut short, however, I’d done my research and knew the odds were in our favor. Morrissey has historically always shown up for his Riot Fest bookings, and his drummer, Matt Walker, is from Chicago. I was right to hold out hope, and Morrissey took the stage right on (revised) schedule to play mix of The Smiths songs and his solo work. The abbreviated schedule kept his stage banter to a minimum, but what he said was surprisingly cheerful. He spoke of the need to act, to reject the impulse to waste your life away in fear, and the miracle of being alive at all. He seemed able to poke fun at the distance between the lyrics he’d written as a young man and how life had turned out. As a new generation of nu metal takes Deftones as their north star, Morrissey's blend of lovelorn and macabre lyricism feels as influential as ever.
Chat Pile
Chat Pile sounded incredible. Playing the same stage as the Callous Daoboys had the day before, the energies of the two bands could not have been more different. Chat Pile was going to drag out all the anger, hurt, evil from your heart and give you a space to let it out. Vocalist Raygun Busch's raw pleas of “why do people have to sleep outside” felt especially heavy as the rain started up again, and we all became painfully aware of the mud beneath our feet and the chilling air.
Tool
Maynard James Keenan, the man whose voice launched a thousand imitators. A short Tool set in the light of day sounds impossible, and yet that's what we got. Threats of a second wave of thunderstorms forced festival organizers to move the end time up to 7:00, giving them just an hour for their 7-song setlist. This was one of the densest crowds I’ve ever been in; fans were packed in as far as the eye could see. With no time for deep cuts and no time for banter, the band powered through their atmospheric set and light show, only pausing once for Maynard to apologize for not moving around much on stage, due to having recently undergone a total hip replacement. Unfortunately, given the combination of his limited movement, mud, and protective coverings on equipment, the sightlines were not good. Tool opted to use the two jumbotrons flanking the stage, as well as the two on the neighboring stage, to project their signature psychedelic visuals, rather than an onstage camera feed. The totalizing projections and accompanying light show were stunning, but did make it hard to catch more than a glimpse of the performers themselves. The band disappeared into a flood of lasers and esoteric symbols.
Nas
Nas was a wildcard. I thought I’d have to miss him entirely, but when Tool wrapped up and I was heading towards the exits, it turned out he was still going. It seems he started late and decided to keep playing the hits until the festival or the rain forced him to stop. He kept going for almost an hour after the festival grounds were supposed to close, and delivered welcome injection of energy into what could have been a wash out.
