If the first day of Lollapalooza was all about connecting past and future, and the second was a referendum on country in rock, the theme of Sunday was, “Man, there certainly was a lot of music this weekend.” Freed from the confines of a vague narrative (either constructed by the producers or grafted upon it by media types), the third and final day in Chicago’s Grant Park was simply about finding something to be passionate about and then leaving it all on the field.
A great deal of that passion was reserved for the Cure, who served up a lovely two hours of throwback sadness as one of Sunday night’s headliners. Though his band has already been alt royalty for decades, frontman Robert Smith still draws his charisma from outsider weirdness. And though the Cure’s setlist was aggressively familiar (if you can think of a Cure song right now, they probably played it), it still lent many of their jams some freshness—even Smith himself still seems alarmed at just how sinister the bassline is that lurks underneath “Lullaby.”
He’s charmingly expressive too—during “Friday I’m In Love,” he made a stink face every time the lyrics came around to “Thursday,” as though that part of the week committed some still-unforgivable sin. And though he himself is showing signs of age, his voice remains as powerfully delicate as it did back when he recorded “Boys Don’t Cry,” the band’s first hit and still their encore-closing number.
At the opposite end of the festival grounds, Phoenix provided a Euro alt-dance party for anybody who wasn’t an aging goth romantic. READ FULL STORY