Teenagers have a habit of revealing too much about themselves. In the twenty minutes my friend Clyde and I had been in line for the Virgin Mobile FreeFest, we learned the following things about the freshly scrubbed young people behind us.
- The young man looks less trashy without his faux-hawk.
- The girl with braces wants to take Jake to homecoming, but still needs to work up the courage to do it.
- The girl with Lisa Loeb glasses is turning eighteen next week, but still feels ten inside.
- The young man threw up last weekend. It felt good.
The kids talked about every aspect of their lives, except for the festival they were about to see. I was seven years their senior and I couldn’t shut up about it. Pavement and LCD Soundsystem for free? It was a mind boggling bill. The show didn’t come up until the line started to move.
“I really wanted to see blink-182 and Weezer,” the young man said. “The bill isn’t as good this year.”
I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.
“What about Pavement and LCD Soundsystem?” I asked.
“I’m here to see Ludacris and Jimmy Eat World,” he said.
The teenagers were not alone in their sentiments. Clyde and I ran into several people we knew, all of whom lamented that the bill wasn’t mainstream. I brought up the presence of M.I.A. and Joan Jett, who had achieved mainstream success
“Yeah, but blink-182 played last year.”
I saw blink-182 last year. I enjoyed their set, but there was nothing surprising or challenging about it. They opened with “Anthem” and closed with “Dammit.” It was fun, but it was like looking through a high school yearbook. The nostalgia was thick and comforting, but I didn’t want to go back.
LCD Soundsystem’s set wasn’t nostalgic, it wasn’t comforting, and it certainly didn’t feel familiar. The set began with a single spotlight on James Murphy. He was wearing a pair of cargo pants and a short-sleeved plaid button-down. His hair was a mess, and the stubble on his face indicated that he hadn’t shaved in several days. He held the microphone too close to his mouth as he sang. His eyes were closed, as if he was afraid of rejection. The keyboard played behind his singing, always the same riff. And then the crescendo. The mood instantly shifted from introspective to unabashed glee. The single spotlight became a mass of swirling color, turning the pit into a rolling wave of humanity. It was a release instead of the usual call and response.
Although LCD Soundsystem lacks recognizable hits, their message is simple enough that a casual music fan could be turned on. If they didn’t care for Murphy as a singer or frontman, there were the beats. If they didn’t like the beats or Murphy, there was the swirling palate of lights. If they didn’t care for the lights, the mood of the people around them was so infectious that they had to react. The best music has the ability to release you from your constraints, even if it’s just for that moment. LCD Soundsystem achieved this feat on the hardest stage to do so; a festival.
As we left Merriweather Post, I thought of the teenagers behind us. I hope that kid took his mind off his hair long enough to check out LCD. His faux-hawk would have wilted under the weight of awesome.






