Pitchfork

Photos by Kirstie Shanley and Joseph Mohan; Above: Cee-Lo of Gnarls Barkley by Joseph Mohan

Welcome to our coverage of Lollapalooza 2008, which concludes today. Check back for reports from Joshua Klein, Scott Plagenhoef, and Matthew Solarski.

For Joshua Klein's coverage, click here: Friday, Saturday, Sunday
For Amy Phillips' coverage, click here: Friday, Saturday, Sunday
For Scott Plagenhoef's coverage, click here: Friday, Sunday
For Matthew Solarski's coverage, click here: Friday, Saturday, Sunday

Saul Williams [5 p.m.]

Photos by Kirstie Shanley

As Saul Williams' band took the stage, I overheard a couple behind me talking.

Him: "Should we stay or should we watch Flogging Molly?"
Her: "Are you kidding? Just LOOK at that guy!"

It was unclear exactly which guy she was referring to: the guitarist in a silver space suit, the keyboardist in a sleep mask and Dracula cape, or DJ/percussionist CX Kidtronix, in red and gold hockey pads resembling armor. No matter. Along with Williams, who entered after a hero-welcoming buildup wearing Aladdin Sane makeup and brightly colored plastic feathers in his hair, the ensemble delivered the sartorial highlight of my Lollapalooza weekend. And that was even before Williams' daughter Saturn showed up to sing and dance in a tutu. Additionally, somebody had handed out feathers like the ones in Williams' hair to audience members before the show, increasing the spectacle.

Sometime between 2004's underrated Saul Williams and last year's Trent Reznor-assisted The Inevitable Rise and Liberation of NiggyTardust! Williams decided that being a slam poet with rock star tendencies was way less fun than being a rock star with slam poet tendencies. This was a wise decision. In concert, his Bomb Squad-esque walls of noise and aggro chanting go down much smoother when hitched to a futuristic glam aesthetic. (Not so smooth: Williams' cover of U2's "Sunday Bloody Sunday". Saul Williams can do many things. Singing is not one of them.)

After commenting about the fact that Kanye West and Nine Inch Nails were competing for Lolla-goers' attentions later that night, Williams said, "My whole purpose is creating music where you don't have to choose." And, against the odds, he has succeeded. In his review of NiggyTardust, Nate Patrin wrote, Williams "is one of those rare artists who justifies the notion of a hip-hop/rock interchange in a post-nu-metal world." But when watching a sea of white kids with feathers in their hair go apeshit to the shuddering "List of Demands (Reparations)", middle fingers in the air, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. Rap-rock, black rock, Afro-punk: why are these things so difficult to pull off, so difficult for people to wrap their heads around? Why aren't more artists like Saul Williams capturing the public's attention?

Gnarls Barkley [6:15 p.m.]

Photos by Joseph Mohan Top: Cee-Lo Bottom: Danger Mouse

Gnarls Barkley might come across as a good time party band, but most of their songs are about depression, insanity, self-doubt, and other such party-pooping topics. It was the melancholy side of Cee-Lo and Danger Mouse that stole the show at Lollapalooza, eclipsing the early evening chill-out vibe. To answer the first question on everyone's lips when it comes to a Gnarls Barkley gig ("What were they wearing?"): Prep school uniforms for the backing band, mustard-colored sport coats over boating whites for the two main men. Vampire Weekend, watch your backs! The outfits plus the band's bouncing and frugging during upbeat numbers like "Run" and "Smiley Faces" leant the proceedings an air similar to the Nirvana "In Bloom" / Outkast "Hey Ya" video trajectory.

But the party was just not getting started. These "fun" songs felt labored, like everybody was trying too hard-- except for Danger Mouse, who looked like he'd rather be in a recording studio as he hunched over a keyboard or organ or glockenspiel (for the Violent Femmes cover "Gone Daddy Gone"). Cee-Lo danced a bit and exhorted the funky people in the house to make some noise, etc., but he didn't seem completely comfortable. Introducing mega-hit "Crazy", he said wearily, "you've probably heard this song."

When things slowed down, however, it was a different story. Cee-Lo's voice is a formidable instrument, a wheezing yelp that almost doesn't seem human. For the beginning of the mournful "Who's Gonna Save My Soul?", the rest of the band departed, leaving just the two Gnarls principals on stage. Backed only by Danger Mouse's organ, Cee-Lo was given room to stretch out and display the true power of his pipes. They followed with a cover of Radiohead's "Reckoner". It might not seem like it would work on paper, but when Cee-Lo grabbed hold of that gorgeous melody, I got chills.

Mark Ronson [7:15 p.m.]

Photos by Joseph Mohan. Top: Mark Ronson Bottom: Rhymefest

Mark Ronson sure is a nice guy. He gets a plum Lollapalooza slot, right before Kanye, and he gives it away to his friends. This was the last show on his tour in support of Version, his lackluster (yet hugely popular, at least in Britain) 2007 collection of R&B/soul covers of primarily indie rock tunes, featuring a different guest vocalist on every track. Big stars like Amy Winehouse, Lily Allen, and Robbie Williams put in work on Version, but they were nowhere to be found at Lolla. The most famous face on stage was Ronson himself.

After introducing his huge band (string section, horn section, drummer, and conga drum player) with an instrumental medley of the Beatles' "Eleanor Rigby" and Maxïmo Park's "Apply Some Pressure", and trying unsuccessfully to get the crowd to sing along with the latter, Ronson brought out some guy named Tiggers to murder Britney Spears' "Toxic". It was deadly...until Rhymefest showed up to save the day. Filling in for the late Ol' Dirty Bastard, who raps on the Version take on "Toxic", the Chicago MC amped up his hometown crowd with his electric stage presence. By the time Rhymefest dove into the crowd, the audience was eating out of his hand. Though it was rumored that a Kanye appearance was imminent, the man never showed, even when Rhymefest launched into their collaboration "Brand New", from his overlooked 2006 album Blue Collar.

But as soon as Rhymefest left the stage, a charisma void set in. Liverpool songstress Candie Payne filled in for Lily Allen on a cover of the Kaiser Chiefs' "Oh My God", perennially unlucky Neptunes collaborator Kenna butchered Ryan Adams' "Amy", though he had better luck with his own "Out of Control", and Australian crooner Daniel Merriweather sucked all the bile out of the White Stripes' "You Don't Know What Love Is". Then it was time for an instrumental version of Coldplay's "God Put a Smile Upon Your Face", anchored by a trumpet playing the lead melody. Ugh.

For some reason, Ronson gave the largest chunk of his set to Philadelphia hipster rap duo Plastic Little, who blew through  M.O.P.'s "Ante Up", Ronson's "Ooh Wee" (what, Ghostface, Nate Dogg AND Trife were all busy?!), and their own "The Jump Off". They didn't leave much of an impression.

After all that, it was actually a relief when Alex Greenwald of pop-punk band Phantom Planet stormed the stage in true rock star fashion. Though his and Ronson's cover of Radiohead's "Just" is dreadful, Greenwald knows how to work a crowd, throwing his mic stand around, jumping into the pit, and climbing scaffolding. Greenwald brought the rest of Phantom Planet on stage for a run through their hit "California" (aka "The O.C." theme song) with Ronson on piano. As a huge sucker for that song (and anything related to "The O.C." in general), I have to admit, it was pretty sweet.

London soul singer Tawiah took Amy Winehouse's place on the Zutons' "Valerie", and sound-wise, you couldn't tell the difference. Then everybody came out to dance and clap along with Daniel Merriweather's take on the Smiths' "Stop Me If You Think You've Heard This One Before".

To be honest, I gotta hand it to Mark Ronson. The whole thing was a huge clusterfuck, the music was mostly terrible, and the crowd didn't know the words to songs that might have been huge hits in England, but barely registered here in America. But Ronson himself came across as goofy and likeable, just a big dork who throws genre distinctions to the wind and wants all types of pop music to be friends with each other. Sure, it was cheesy. And I'd never in my life prefer Ronson's versions of these songs to the originals. But Ronson's enthusiasm was infectious, and I couldn't help grinning.