Coachella 2006 Line-up Picks & Notes
I went around the losanjealous offices after lunch and collected picks and notes on the Coachella bill. If you have quibbles with the list or picks of your own, stick ’em below.
UPDATE: Set times announced here. A few tough time conflicts in there. Let’s hear the hardest choices you’re going to have to make.
RELATED COACHELLA UPDATE REDUX: Daniil sends us the hot tip of a secret Coachella act show 7 p.m. tonight (Friday 4/28) at the Roxy. We will give you a hint: their name rhymes with Charles Barkley. If you aren’t reading this on wi-fi lined up outside the Roxy now, forget about it. At least now you can say you knew about it but decided to pass on it.
Animal Collective. Look, we like these dudes. But we didn’t drive out to the goddamned desert to see some beardy dudes shout into mics and twiddle knobs. They better fucking bring some actual tunes with them.
Be Your Own Pet, The Rakes, The Duke Spirit. I like these kids, all of them, and in that order. I have a good feeling about them. Watch them climb from 10-point font to 14-point font on the next Coachella poster.
Cat Power. Live, Chan could go either way. But if she keeps the spacey chick in check with just the right amount of heartbreak at about sunset, it could be a real special moment. And she better be loud to be heard over any beats whipping though the air.
Clap Your Hands Say Yeah vs. Editors vs. Wolf Parade. Similarly ultra bloghyped derivative bands of an equal stature try to break out from the JV club indie circuit to that Interpol/Franz ampitheater-level in hopes of staving off inevitable sophomore slumps.
Daft Punk, The Juan Maclean, Ladytron. Catch these synthy futuristic retro grooves and not the other synthy futuristic retro grooves on the bill.
Devendra Banhart. Fuck this folkie beardy hippie freak shit. It’s hot, we’re tired, we’re wasted, so you need to bring it strong at a festival. If you want something nice and mellow to blaze one up to, go see Seu Jorge instead.
Depeche Mode. If they stick to the classics and slip in a few old deep cuts, they will win over the crowd. Basically stick to Black Celebration through Violator and throw in something from the early 80’s to show the new jacks who the fuck invented that S&M-flecked synthpop that is paying their bills.
Deerhoof, Lady Sovereign. I have a feeling that either one of these fiery 4’12” chicks could, and very well will, someday, kick my ass. Perhaps at the same time. Call it a premonition. But before that fateful day, this weekend one of them should get on the other’s shoulders, form an indie Yao Ming and storm the crowd. Now, that, that would be sweet.
The Dears. For some reason, everyone loves these guys. They have about 3 Â½ interesting songs. Their live show is a Degrassi version of rock. If the crowd showed as little life as do their gals on keys, they would think they were bombing.
Eagles of Death Metal. Josh Homme is basically Mr. Coachella. He’s from the area and word has it he may just turn into a lizard or eagle and become one with nature at this thing.
Giant Drag, The Like. It is easy to hate on them for being well-connected L.A. scenester housebands but they are really pretty very decent on LP and live. Plus, these chicks will no doubt be wearing short skirts in that desert heat, so they’ve got that going for them.
Giles Petersen. The best DJ in the world, therefore the best DJ on the bill. Yeah, we’re looking at you, Oakenfold.
Gnarls Barkley. “Crazy” is this year’s “Gold Digger” but can they pull it off live?
And will they go with a band or DAT for the backing? Daniil says a band–see below. Thanks for the info!
Madonna. She sucks young blood. Fuck this old hag trying to leach some cred off the Mis/Snake kids. She is essentially the third link in unholy media trinity of Sharon Stone and Oprah. Maybe her royal Brit affectations will give her the urge to hop on a horse on the polo grounds and get bucked off again.
Massive Attack. About time. Seriously, what is up with these Bristol bands that disappear for half decade chunks at a time. Don’t hate them because they invented a genre that has since deteriorated to background musical environments for Thai restaurants.
Matishayu. The dude was made for festivals. But beware high shirtless broski contingent in the crowd though–all the My Morning Jacket and C&C rockjocks’ reggae antennae will pick his rhythms up in the air and head over. And promptly have their minds blown.
Octopus Project. More theremin than should be legal. Fasten your balls securely.
She Wants Revenge. Booorrrring. And to get inappropriately personal, have you seen how ugly these dudes are? No wonder why they stuck a chick in undies on their CD cover.
TV on the Radio. The new LP is fanfuckingtastic. They will shower the crowd with noise, beats, grooves and soul.
Rob Dickinson. Like many 2nd tier shoegazer bands, his Catherine Wheel had great a couple of great singles and a couple of shitty LPs. You do want to be that guy shouting out for “Black Metallic,” so be that guy.
Wolfmother vs. Sleater-Kinney. Which 3-piece outfit can raise a louder holy hell? My money’s on the chicks.
Sigur Ros. Live, they are almost too pure for this filthy festival. In fact, you don’t deserve to see them, so just go home before they come on, you filthy festival goer.
Tool. Never heard ’em. Any good?
Franz, Bloc Party, Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Reliable senior indie circuit veterans making a play for Top 40. Franz are the picks; Karen O’s shtick is pretty tired at this point; BP are solid live but still looking for that one transcendent show.
Be sure to come back here on Monday and tell us how right we were.