“Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return.” If you don’t mind getting biblical, it feels appropriate. After four very dry days at Roskilde Festival, the dust has taken root in every pore and people are covering their faces with bandanas and construction masks that are bringing some Occupy-Wall-Street-meets-bird-flu-epidemic vibes. While we didn’t let it ruin our fun, some of those strange vibes did carry over to the bands we saw.
“We are ready for war,” says Juana Molina when she and her band take the stage. “I will tell you later.”
As many artists are making political statements or getting caught on the wrong side of visa applications, the mind goes in many different directions. But what’s happened is that the band’s gear got lost en route from Argentina. Molina sang us a song about running to make a plane and then having to borrow gear in Roskilde.
This endearing approach to explaining their preoccupation during the set is helpful, because the band are definitely preoccupied. They’re uncertain of what songs to perform, Molina herself is annoyed at her guitar pedals, and they’re all deeply suspicious of the borrowed Moog synthesizer that never gets used.
So it’s likely not the most representative set of her career. Things veer more towards the South American folk side than the electronica side, making it all more groovy than moody. The set ends on a positive note with the audience providing backing vocals for “Un día.” Maybe it wasn’t a war, but it was good of the band to soldier through.
Mogwai is keeping us waiting. There’s a problem with their gear, and this is one band that won’t work without their pedals. Twenty minutes behind schedule, they emerge with “Mogwai Fear Satan,” four-part guitars and additional drumming from Honeyblood’s Cat Meyers.
The songs come out more dreamy than spiky, big washes of guitar rather than noise that feels absent of aggression despite volume or clever titles. By the time they hit “Remurdered,” there are smiles across all of the bands’ faces, whether from the joy of the mathematical rhythm or simply relief that nothing has broken down mid set.
They close with the sprawling “My Father My King,” coming in at under 20 minutes, allowing them to exit on a massive amount of feedback. Nothing skimped on, nothing trampled over. It was one of those cases where they had to keep us waiting if it was going to work at all. — AF
This set feels like it’s divided into parts. The first part feels very much like a Damon Albarn solo show. Their new album, The Now Now, seems designed for performing without worrying about coordinating schedules or using prerecorded tracks. Albarn is more than capable of holding the stage on his own, and with singles like “Tomorrow Comes Today” and “Melancholy Hill” sprinkled in, the audience is in familiar territory. But Albarn’s speech about his affection for Roskilde, and his clambering up to the rail — something he would previously not done while performing with Gorillaz — underscore the solo show feeling.
The second part of the set, when the guests begin to emerge, feels like a shot in the arm. De La Soul’s appearance for “Superfast Jellyfish” is a portent of what’s to come, and people predictably lose their minds over “Feel Good Inc” later in the set. The energy completely changes as Little Simz and Moonchild Sanelly take the stage and “Stylo” gets new life with Pevene Everrett taking over for the late Bobby Womack. The tour for Plastic Beach had conditioned audiences to expect something spectacular all the time, but this approach of winnowing the set down to what can be performed by the house band and then only including collaborations where they can be found (as opposed to with prerecorded audio and video) is a more solid, sustainable concept.
That being said, the night ends on a very weird note. Closing out the Orange Stage for the whole of the festival with “Clint Eastwood,” what’s guaranteed to be a massive sing along, should be great. Del the Funky Homosapien, who provided the original vocals, comes on stage and delivers the line, “Finally, Damon let me out of my cage,” and then falls off the stage and out of view. The cameras pan over to a confused Albarn, who dashes over to where Del should be. The band continues playing for another 30 seconds, then stops as it’s announced that Del has hurt himself and the set is now over. The festival organizers, who less than two hours earlier were emoting about how lovely the festival has been, how many people have watching sets on the Orange Stage, what a great friend to the festival Damon Albarn is, have now come on to send everyone on their way. See you next year indeed. — AF
M€RCY closed out the Klub Rå program this year in the most perfect way. I was worried their 1 AM time slot (after Gorillaz on Orange stage and competing with Anderson.Paak nearby at Arena) would be ill-attended in the small, stuffy room. When I arrived, a mass of happy people were bouncing and swaying on the grass and the duo (Esben Valløe and Tim Panduro) had set up their mass of electronics in the DJ booth between the tent and the bar. M€RCY’s dark techno provided the perfect energy for the crowd so obviously running on their last fumes. Carefully crafted textures float and swirl around propulsive rhythms full of detail and nuance. Valløe and Panduro’s strength was in the restraint they showed, keeping the tempo at a manageable groove instead of trying to gratuitously hype up the crowd. Seeing an act reading and responding to the audience during a techno set is a rare thing, and M€RCY were dead on without needing to be bombastic. — MT
Words by Mikael Tobias and Amanda Farah. Photos by Morten Aagaard Krogh.