Festival review: Hopscotch 2019
When there’s as much high-quality music to be seen over the course of three nights as there was at the 2019 Hopscotch Music Festival, things tend to run together, even more so when the wind and rain of Hurricane Dorian knocks the Thursday, Sept. 5 acts slated for downtown Raleigh’s City Plaza a few miles away at The Ritz, fitting a couple of thousand eager fans indoors for energetic sets by Kurt Vile, a good deal more punky and animated than he was last summer at The Orange Peel, and Sleater-Kinney, whose Carrie Brownstein is quite the shredder and high-kicker, booting attendees back out into the blustery conditions for their choice of nine indoor venues within blocks of one another, like the cramped basement dwellings of Imurj and its peppy women-fronted rock bill of Kississippi and The Illuminati Hotties, decent stopgaps for Lucy Dacus at Pourhouse or Boris at King’s, the walk to which sees plenty of umbrellas losing battles with violent gusts and ends in long lines outside the buildings that are especially unappealing in these natural conditions, especially when a short jaunt away is the Lincoln Theatre and the end of Chicago rapper Joey Purp’s warm set, followed shortly — hooray for thrifty hip-hop changeover times! — by EarthGang, who take to the stage accompanied by none other than their Dreamville Records boss J. Cole, at whose mere presence the crowd erupts, a fire that Olu and WowGr8 spread for the next jam-packed hour, complete with moves by talented audience members pulled up on stage, and a visit to the Lincoln floor, where the chemistry-rich Atlanta duo gets the rapturous crowd to form a cypher circle and resuscitate old-school rap at its finest, albeit with a futuristic twist that’s rightfully earned them the title of heirs to Outkast’s empire.
Jenny Lewis (Photo by Edwin Arnaudin)
Back to it on Friday, Sept. 6, after proper sleep and a screening of the surprisingly effective series-improver It Chapter Two, in the now dry and quite pleasant City Plaza with the Boys from Boone themselves, The Nude Party, looking like the early ‘70s spat them out but let them keep the hair, wardrobe, and musical talent, after which, in the spot originally reserved for Purple Mountains (R.I.P. David Berman), steps the comically mysterious Orville Peck, complete with superfans in the front row, wearing his trademark fringe mask and getting down to his tongue-in-cheek country outlaw routine, after which it’s a quick two-block walk and metal-detector-approval down to Red Hat Amphitheater for some Dirty Projectors action with David Longstreth doing his confident leadership thing but Felicia Douglass’ vocals making a compelling case to give the reins to her, and, after a handful of songs, each seemingly better than the last, it’s cruel to force one to choose between staying and going back to City Plaza to see Jenny Lewis, but the decision to relocate is an obvious one and quickly rewarded with The Queen’s usual performance bliss, this time leaning on those still fresh-feeling On the Line tracks with faux telephone call from The Watson Twins, who pop out for a bucket list rendition of “Rise Up with Fists!!” and a new high bar for the fest has been set and then miraculously matched by the end of James Blake’s soul-stirring last few electro-pop anthems down at Red Hat that really bring to mind chastising organizers for putting these top-level acts at the same time, but, before you know it, back to the Lincoln it is for more royalty in Caroline Rose and a textbook super-fun performance that’s about 8-10 songs too short but, team player that she and her band are, they promptly get off the stage at the prescribed time to make way for Deerhunter, which take its sweet time before an increasingly agitated crowd that could/should have been treated to more CR goodness instead of the oddity of Bradford Cox walking to the mic with the aid of a wooden cane that, as the set wore on, is apparently mostly if not entirely a prop, part of an altogether off-putting performance that alternates between increased impatience for greatness as the clock ticks to 2 a.m. and feeling like sleeping in the car might be worth it each time Cox & Co. get their act together and hit the pocket like the all-stars they truly are.
James Blake (Photo by Edwin Arnaudin)
A touch woozy and not crazy about being out in the heat of the day on Saturday, Sept. 7, leads to arriving in time for the end of Raphael Saadiq’s well-received set at City Plaza, but it’s soon clear that everyone is likewise most excited for this too-good-to-be-true Little Brother reunion, and, sure enough, Phonte and Big Pooh aren’t playing a big trick on us die-hards who can quote lines from across their catalog, shouting phrases most of us thought we’d never get the chance to shout again while Phonte makes humorous yet painfully truthful comments about Raleigh’s gentrification — sights he never thought he’d see — and though the potential for cameos from additional NC rap icons goes unfulfilled, a Joe Scudda appearance for his “Lovin’ It” verse is a mighty fine substitute and the best kind of dizzy nostalgic preamble for the stroll down to Red Hat and the end of Phantogram, maybe not the best pairing with Chvrches, basically their fully realized version, and man, does it show early and often with Lauren Mayberry getting the crowd amped and spinning across the stage in her red dress like a Grimm character who fell in love with big synths and top-dollar light shows, and with the headliner section of Hopscotch all wrapped up, it’s over to Pour House for some (embarrassingly delayed) Asheville dap with the final few numbers from Michael Libramento’s super-groovy Coconut Cake, featuring Toubaber Drew Heller on guitar and Ahleuchatister Ryan Oslance, drumming for approximately the twelfth time this fest, and as soon as they’re packed up, the What Cheer? Brigade does its indoor marching band routine that’s easily the most flat-out fun stretch of the weekend, and also the most miraculous seeing as no one gets speared with a trombone slide when the brass players weave through the crowd, and, after the unexpected energetic high note, even with a renewed vitality that makes staying up all night seem like not the worst idea, it’s time to call it quits and make a mental note to block off this time of year from now on.
(Lead photo of Little Brother by Edwin Arnaudin)
