Coachella 2017: Saturday acts Bon Iver, Future, Drake and more reviewed

The annual music festivals first weekend continued in California with a surprise look from Drake and impressive outings for Thundercat and Warpaint

Shura Mojave

Shura shoegazey dream-pop Photograph: Emma McIntyre/ Getty Images for Coachella

If Madonna was in a shoegaze band, it would voice a bit like Shura. Armed with sequencer and synth, denim jacket, and seapunk dark-green streaks, the 25 -year-old Aleksandra Denton was linked to her impressive midday gang by bashing through acclaimed debut album Nothings Real with equal personas sugar and grit.

With drums and guitar for reinforcement, Denton flitted through myriad voices of dream-pop, new wave, even a touching of 90 s rnb, but she closed the decide bashing her sequencer with closed fists and right hooks with real triumphant rocknroll vigor. Its rare you understand any aggression on stage nowadays, but Smith was flailing around like a particularly ornery Eddie Vedder at the finale.


Mitski Gobi

Mitski gave reflections on modern American teenhood. Photograph: Valerie Macon/ AFP/ Getty Images

For the early risers Mitskis blend of Morrissey-style self reflection and pop punk was a soothing start to a day when many hangovers were being wet-nurse. Mitski Miyawakis fragile chants which lyrically are somewhere between the Smiths and St Vincent, while musically owe a debt to Weezer and Teenage Fanclub might not sound like aural electrolytes but despite the heavy content its her subtle give that makes them soothing. Backed by only a drummer and guitarist, she runs through chants from her two most recent critically lauded albums, including Francis Forever and Happy that offer a downcast look at the country of American teenhood.

For the quiet gang that determined more people sitting down than standing, it was a gentle, if slightly sombre start to the day that picked up quicken merely with the pop punk of Townie. The creaking guitar solo of that anthem was in stark differ to some of her slower amounts but on the second largest day of a grueling desert festival it was no bad thing.


Downtown Boys Sonora

Victoria Ruiz of Downtown Boys. Photograph: Matt Cowan/ Getty Images for Coachella

There was a distinctly mellow vibe to yesterdays proceedings, the soothe before the sandstorm that was to follow. An early afternoon place for a band that describe themselves as a bi bilingual political dance sax punk party behaved as an early sign that Saturday was heading in a very different direction.

Playing to only a handful of festival-goers, the Downtown Boys were at least perfectly suited to their stage, the brand new Sonora tent that felt like a grimy association on the lower east side of Manhattan. Their frenetic set allowed for some excited moshing at the front but it remained difficult to distinguish each anthem from the next and while lead singer Victoria Ruiz tried to inject political feeling to her riffing between chants, it was a mixed bag of buzzwords and little else. As she dedicated a later anthem to those who only want to say no to a mom who doesnt understand them, the lone cheer were of the view that even the millennials on locate were a little bit too old for this rather empty label of musical wrath.


Car Seat Headrest Mojave

Will Toledos turquoise suit was the most entertaining part of Car Seat Headrests languid daytime strum-along in the Mojave. Hawking Sonic Youth and The Silver Jews in equal sum, the decide was hackneyed, backwards-looking and didnt feel very much like the future of US stone as some have suggested.

With all thats going on in “the worlds” right now, bedroom indie stone, a genre be decided upon by mopey dudes lamenting the minutium of their enjoy lives and hamming the same three chords for decades, has very little to offer. But then again, maybe thats the appeal? Rocknroll may never truly die, but if it lives on for now in limp faxes like Car Seat Headrest, itll has become a very long road to reincarnation.


Thundercat Mojave

Drunk-en lord Thundercat. Photograph: Anthony Pidgeon/ Redferns

A packed-out Mojave crowds impatiently awaited the advent of Thundercat, whose brand-new album Drunk has brought the multi-genre aptitude more critical and commercial success than hes suffered before. His atmospheric funk proved to be easily digestible sundown listening although he couldnt resist expand the summary operating day of his new tracks( the majority of members of which are under three minutes ), each drifting into jazzy freestyling longer then needed.

Given the starry lineup of Drunk( and his impressive resum ), there was also a loitering feel of prospect over who might join him on stage( frequent collaborator Kendrick Lamar is tomorrows headliner after all ). But, in a joyfully unexpected move, he brought on Michael McDonald to the stage, much to the embarrassment of a twentysomething gang largely unaware of his task. The pair performed album line Be demonstrated by the Way before McDonald, are supported by Thundercat, stormed through a crowd-pleasing rendition of What A Sucker Believes, its hook remaining as effective as ever. It was a few moments in a decide that contained slick high-flowns and a little bit too much instrumental overindulgence.


Four Tet/ Daphni/ Floating Points Yuma

A busy boy Floating Degrees aka Sam Shepherd. Photograph: Dan Medhurst

Four Tet, Daphni, and Floating Degrees are like the three wise men of indie-informed electronic music. Four Tet AKA Kieran Hebden could headline anywhere from Low End Theory in LA to Fabric in London, Daphni AKA Dan Snaith has already overcame the indie world with his adored Caribou moniker, and Floating Degrees AKA Sam Shepherd was fresh from a set in the Mojave Tent playing analog synth in the jazzy, jammy post-rock trio that forms the live iteration of his act. Suffice to say, their modus operandi kindness chinstroking more than fistpumping.

When these three get together, theres a tendency towards disco. They used the genre as a launchpad to explore the fringes of beat-driven music, from spirit to minimal techno, for almost four hours a marathon discussion by Coachella standards. Their intellectual bent did not fog from the euphoria of their selections, and the Yuma tent was brimming with positive vigor and questionable dance moves two requirements for any good party.


Rosn Murphy Gobi

In a noticeably quiet tent, Rosn Murphy appeared on stage garmented in one of many costumes that would play a huge part in her late afternoon set. Rivalling against neighbourhood favourite Thundercat, who was in the adjacent tent, intended there was an intimate seem to a performance that was anything but low-key. Last time her album Take Her Up to Monto was deemed still too strange for the bigtime and her predisposition towards the experimental, rather than the mainstream was on display in the desert.

Rosn Murphy experimental excellence. Photograph: Rich Fury/ Getty Images for Coachella

From defined opener Conceives Wasted, the crowd were given a set that experienced more like experimental theatre at times than the pop starlet EMI thought they had signed 10 years ago. A batch of onstage props and costumes were casually draped over synths and mic stands, with Murphy picking and choosing at will as if in a thrift storage stocked exclusively with paraphernalia from the most out-there of theatre companies.

Nods to her earlier more poppy period featured, such as Tell Everybody during which she picked up a pouch that came in the shape of a endure, unzipped it and proceeded to pull about 25 ft of red ribbon from within it. Those selects and her decide which included newer more avant garde substance such as Gone Fishing, which was inspired by the classic voguing documentary Paris Is Burning, shaped for a show that was at times more challenging than accessible to even a clearly devoted gang. For Murphy, clearly performance comes before anything else, and when the trance was interrupted by a roadie who adapted a buzzer she was playing during the low-slung brand-new line Whatever, the aggravation was clear to realize.

The last portion of the decide determined a 4/4 flog ultimately feature with House of Glass developing the tempo and giving a gang which was clearly champing at the bit for something to dance to, a chance to do only that. But rather than operating through chants from Overpowered, the decide finished with a eight-minute jam-pack of Exploitation with Murphy swapping clothings, ultimately finished up with an archery target mask. It was a somewhat psychotic end to a decide that was perhaps the most experimental performance Coachella will see.


Future Main Stage

Fake enjoy? Drake and Future. Photograph: Kevin Winter/ Getty Images for Coachella

Atlanta trap iconoclast Future outlined a crowd almost as big as Radioheads the night before at the main stage. Heavy on visual and sartorial style, Futures oversized persona fit the massive fixed, even if his music failed to match that stature. Futures tunes sat somewhere between softball hip-hop and radio-appropriate pop hooks. His overtures towards the abstract flatter to fool any semblance of magnitude.

Future brought forward fellow Atlanta rappers Migos for a shouty rendition of their Donald Glover-endorsed reached Bad and Bougie, with beatmaker Zaytoven also in the mingle. But “thats really not” the scope of the astonishes. When Drake appeared to perform their collaboration Jumpman, a cacophony of squeals explosion from the audience and torsoes hastened towards the stage from all sides. Drake took the lead for three tracks including ubiquitous radio reached Fake Love and contributed the crowd in a sporting round of sing-along of the line before leaving the stage to Future, who gave one more song as the crowd began to leave after Drake departed.


Warpaint Gobi

Disaffected, if proficient Warpaint. Photograph: Tabatha Fireman/ Redferns

As a band which are normally seem uncomfortable on a big stage( they were particularly ill-suited as a headliner for 2014 s Field Day in London ), Warpaint were wisely picked for the most intimate Gobi tent, which when darkness situateds in, feelings almost like a four-walled gig venue. They were also accompanied by a compellingly flashy stage yet despite the efforts, theres still something unavoidably flat about their presence when live.

It certainly cant be traced back to their instrumental knowledge with all four members supplying a technically completed performance. But while the choice of stage might have forced a degree of intimacy, theres still a spark missing. It doesnt assistance that so many of their chants, intriguing individual elements aside, are incredibly difficult to remember once theyre over. It resulted in a decide that experienced lost within a festival jam-pack with more distinctive acts, working hard to gain brand-new devotees. Warpaints disaffected, if proficient, shtick is for their hardcore following only.


Bon Iver Main Stage

On Friday, the xx struggled to construct the difficult second-from-top spot their own, but on Saturday Bon Iver “ve managed” taken together a complex, layered set that managed to entertain while standing true-life to his latest album, 22, a Million. That account, with its focus on big production, numerology and lavish employ of auto-tune divided devotees, but as a big stage production its lofty desire was realised. With a full horn area and backing band with huge screens plastered in visuals, amounts and hieroglyphs, this version of Bon Iver was very different from the one who emerged with delicate chants about heartbreak from a room in the timbers back in 2008.

Here tracks like 715 CRKS with its stuttering composition and times of pained auto-tune were received with wails of appreciation. Bon Iver AKA Justin Vernon gazed more like a record storage employee with his ever-present headphones and T-shirt sporting the epithet of DJ collective Discwoman. But despite the dressed-down garb, chants like 29 #Strafford APTS and 33 GOD, experienced huge with Vernons well-honed live decide that wasnt hampered by any of the technical impediments Radiohead suffered.


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