If You Don’t Give a Damn, We Don’t Give a Fuck: Sweetlife Festival

All Photos: Sarah Gormley

Despite the weather, Clark Newman, Jenn Bress, and I were living the Sweetlife.

It was cold, rainy, and grey outside, but that did not deter the revellers at the 2nd Annual Sweetlife Festival at Merriweather Post Pavilion. Dancing, clapping, and fist pumping could be seen under the umbrellas and ponchos that littered the crowd of festival-goers, and the Youngbloodz sample from Girl Talk’s “Still Here” that would later be played was so fitting in that the bands, attendees, and staff all seemed to say, en masse, “If you don’t give a damn [about the rain], we don’t give a fuck [either].”

Sweetlife Festival this year took a sizeable detour from some parking lot outside of Dupont Circle up to the famed MPP. In terms of venue alone this was an immediate and incredible step up. The advantage was capitalized upon, and some very highly sought after acts were showcased. It was like trading in a beat up old pickup truck for a sexy sports car with premium unleaded. Too bad that sports car was a convertible, and too bad we all had real jobs the next day.

All the songs that you wanted to be played from all of the bands that played, were played. Since most sets were on average thirty minutes, and some as short as twenty minutes, there was not a lot of room for showcasing new material. However, one thing that can be said is that all of the bands played like headliners. Everyone noticeably brought their A-game and played all the crowd-pleasers.

The most frequent complaint was of long lines waiting for Pavilion access as revellers fled the rain. Leaving your seat to go to the bathroom was a two-hour ordeal, although free popchips and sweetgreen yogurt samples handed out from smiling staff tempered the wait, slightly. However, to fill the empty Pavilion seats with General Admission ticket holders benefitted the festival-goers and increased the general enthusiasm for bands, so all we’ve gotta say is… Well, at least some of you made it out of the rain for a lil while.

With the bass-heavy “Long in the Tooth,” Modern Man began the festival and rocked the still-gathering crowd with their self-described “analog rock,” which aptly describes the industrial, stripped-down feel of their music.

As we paced the festival, roaming for beer and freebies, we came across the Pinball Hall of Fame music themed exhibit. Dolly Parton greeted us with D-cups and triple balls as U.S. Royalty began their set with fan favorite “Monte Carlo.” This song evokes dreams of riding into the sunset through a dusty plain. Immediately, I [Jenn] remarked “Who brought the classic rock?” as they grooved behind the beeps and whirls of the pinball machine.

Lead singer John Thornley’s wild flourishes, twirls, and tambourine-ing were reminiscent of a nascent rock god, such as a young Jagger or Bowie, and his brother Paul matched his energy with explosive guitar riffs during “Hollywood Hollows” and “Equestrian.” The enthusiastically clapping Pavilion audience responded with cheers when John shouted, “I know it’s early, but let’s boogie!”

None of us knew much about Cincinnati, Ohio’s Walk the Moon before this festival, but they were a feel-good moment in the day. Jenn’s Big OH Moment: Once I was clued in that all the face paint in the place was inspired by WTM, whose fans we were told regularly wear face paint, I have to say that I was floored by the Ziggy Stardust effect that enchants WTM fans. They were out in droves, and they were feeling it, as evidenced by the squealing young girls shouting, “He’s so cute! They’re all so cute!” as they began their set. They were, indeed, super cute.

I met one beautiful blonde-haired fan high atop the hill when my fearless companion pointed out her fierce heels, which she balanced on as she kneeled on a blanket talking to her friends. “They’re so and so’s,” she said, and I thought to myself, who the fuck wears designer shoes to a music festival? WALK THE MOON fans?! Nevertheless, “Anna Sun” was an effervescent pop tribute to their pink, turquoise, and purple face-streaked army. Nicholas Petricca sang, “We got no money, but we got heart,” and they did.

Theophilus London. will. be. a. superstar. His style just drips with all the Brooklyn swag you can imagine. With a glittery hat adorning him and one half of Ninjasonik [Telli Gramz] accompanying him, he got the crowd truly excited as they waved their hands back and forth.

Ra Ra Riot brought sweetly singing female and male vocals and violin solos, as expected. Crowd pleasers from The Rhumb Line, “Can You Tell” and “Dying is Fine,” with which they closed out the set, were played, as expected.

Cold War Kids played “Skip the Charade,” “Louder Than Ever,” and “Hospital Beds,” as expected. As we said before, everyone played their lil hearts out, and RRR and CWK would have blown us away any other Sunday, but then…

Holy shit, holy shit! We wish we had fought our way into to the pit for this just to be able to touch Alice Glass’ boot as she crowdsurfed and scream to her pogo-ing around the stage. The boot was present during their recent show at 9:30 Club and didn’t stop her then, either. Truly a rock star! As she’s sashaying around like Madonna to “Not in Love,” we’re feeling pretty stupid for this being our first time seeing them live. We didn’t want to deal with crazy kids, but Crystal Castles’ synthy, sexy set was so satisfying that we all wished we had been one of the crazies in the pit.

Lupe Fiasco brought out fist pumps in full force as the rain subsided a bit. His hit “Superstar,” as well as the recognizable “Kick, Push,” “Hip Hop Saved My Life,” and “Daydream” were played as the crowd on the lawn pulsed back and forth in time. Fiasco also played a new song, “Scream,” which he said is not on an album and only available on youtube [via live recordings]. He got us sufficiently wilded up for…

Girl Talk. Girl Talk. Girl Talk!!! TVD was all in the pit! As we knew it would be, it was people on top of people on stage, in the pit, in the seats, and as far as the eye could see on the lawn. Definite climax of the night, with balloons and confetti balls and crazy toilet paper things and other blow-up things and people crowdsurfing. Girl Talk towered over like a warlord commanding us to dance our faces off.

There was nothing better at that moment than to writhe up against total strangers bouncing to mashups we hadn’t heard him play before, including non GT-album samples from Wiz Khalifa’s “Black and Yellow” and Waka Flocka Flame’s “No Hands.” “Shout,” getting a little louder now… Amazing. I [Clark] definitely got intimate with several new-found best friends and may be pregnant. It wasn’t a surprise when the balloons and confetti madness came raining down prematurely for Girl Talk instead of for The Strokes.

How could The Strokes follow Girl Talk? Because they have so many adoring fans. They didn’t disappoint, the crowd lending to their energy, but this just seemed so serious following Girl Talk. At this point, all of us were pretty much falling asleep, not from lack of interest but from drunken exhaustion. Still, there were moments when we had to pop our heads up and smile. There is nothing terrible about this band live, but there is absolutely nothing exciting; they stick to the script, kick out the jams (including “Is This It” and “Last Night,” of course), say some sweet shit to the audience, and then… peace. Julian Casablancas didn’t stand on a table towering before the crowd like Girl Talk did—nope, too cool for that—but it was generally enjoyable, and we’re glad we didn’t miss it.

Monday was unbearable for all of us, in pain from the long, wet, day and debaucherous night, but we didn’t give a damn. We didn’t give a fuck. It was worth it.

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