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Tortoise

As most of the festival goers were making their way towards the SBC stage to gawk at Coldplay, a small faction gathered around the AMD stage's last act Tortoise. The 15-year-old instrumental group played technically flawless indie rock. Among the rising cloud of dust, Tortoise's dissonance took on a sort of ethereal beauty. The crowd was unable to keep still and danced through the clouds of dust and smoke, making the most of the last moments of the festival. While Tortoise's set was nearing its end, the sounds of Coldplay became audible through the noise. This, however, only added to the beauty of the ethereal set.

When the smitten pair of lovers that form Mates of State took the stage, there was a small, devout crowd awaiting their arrival. By halfway through their set, a crowd of more than a thousand had gathered to dance to Mates of State's spacey, dissonant keyboard pop. The husband and wife team of Jason Hammel and Kori Gardner (drums and keyboard, respectively) displayed their love for each other not only through their songs but through the glances they stole all during their set. Though the couple was as sickeningly adorable as the music, it is questionable as to whether their songs stood ACL's brutal test of an hour long set and sweltering heat.

A gust of wind signaled the entrance of five bone-thin young men, seemingly in their early 20s. Each took their position behind instruments and microphone stands, and they became the dance rock entity known as Kasabian. Wearing pants so tight they must have been spray painted on, Kasabian pounded out an hour's worth of competent dance rock. Playing almost exclusively tunes off their latest self-titled release on RCA Records, they made the most of their early Friday afternoon set. The heat, however, proved too much for the British band; they devoted a fair amount of their set to cursing it. Despite the weather, they whipped the crowd into a dancing fury with their closer "Club Foot", the first single off their album.

Early Sunday afternoon, four humble Englishmen took ACL's humongous Cingular stage. At first glance, one would not expect a very thrilling set. Doves, however, proved to be a pleasant surprise. The four-piece wowed the audience with a roaring rhythm section and clean, precise guitars and keyboards. The crowd responded to the blast of Brit rock with cheering and dancing. The party peaked about four songs in when Doves pulled out their infectious single "Black and White Town." From that point on, the set calmed down a little and afforded Doves the chance to showcase their stellar musicianship. The set culminated in a percussion solo that found all four members beating to their hearts' content.

There is little room to deny Bob Mould's status as a rock legend. After witnessing Mould's performance at ACL, there is absolutely no room for doubt. Triumphantly taking the stage late Sunday afternoon, Bob Mould churned out a set of not only his own pop rock gems, but also songs from his seminal punk band Hüsker Dü. A particular highlight was the obscenely energetic "I Apologize". Despite sharing a time slot with indie darlings The Decemberists, a sizeable crowd gathered to pay homage to Mould's legacy. Mould may have aged far past the average festival attendee age, but his signature style of punk rock will always be relevant.

After standing in a long line and being twelve cents short of a fast food combo, a gentle soul in a Jet t-shirt completed the order by pulling change out of his pocket. Thus I developed a positive disposition to enjoy some quality AC/DC biting.

Amidst sirens and lots of feedback, Australia's Jet took ACL's Cingular Stage Saturday evening. Though the day had seen lots of quality music, until that point none of said music had actually rocked.

Rocked in the way fists pump, not in the way skinny people clap.

The audience was happy to embrace Jet's silly southern rock charade; from the drawn out intro to their hit, "Cold Hard Bitch," the barrage of power chords resonated tremendously with the masses.

There were breakdowns and drunken "woos" shouted by patrons, but after about 15 minutes, the Aussie's lack of originality got old. They busted out the acoustic guitars and pianos though this only reminded everyone how much bands like Poison really sucked.

By the time Jet landed on 2004's inescapable hit, "Are You Gonna Be My Girl?" the buzz had long worn off.

The under card to Coldplay was an enticing match up between Wilco and Dublin's Franz Ferdinand. Both were pinned against one another, playing on opposite stages at the same time. Though Franz was unquestionably helped out by those waiting for Chris Martin's droopy anthems, they still seemed to draw more people.

From the homoerotic "Michael" (prefaced by a medley of solos from the entire band's members) to the monster single, "Take Me Out," theirs was a constant set of songs that basically all sound the same. Regardless, the boys from Ireland were responsible for the day's largest dance party, and for the good times they are to be commended.

Last year, Franz Ferdinand landed a night slot on the slightly smaller AMD stage, but this time around an enormous back drop of their new album cover spelled out Franz's enormous popularity to all.

Not that it really matters as singer Alex Kapranos put it best, "It's just as hot this year as it was last year."

Bloc Party played almost everything from their debut, "Silent Alarm." They raced through accelerated versions of "Helicopter," "This Modern Love," "Little Thoughts" and the glorious anthem "Like Eating Glass." The tempos were fast but still remained thoroughly danceable.

"This song is about sex," said Okereke after "Positive Tension." Heavens knows how many babies were conceived Saturday evening after couples returned home from Bloc Party's inspired set.

Okereke was all smiles, commanding the audience to clap and dance whenever he fancied. Okereke and his mates had a jovial demeanor and only halted the Zilker Park outdoor dance party to give Oasis a jab between songs, dedicating a song about arrogance to them.

Okereke and Lissack created their sonic arsenal with the simplicity of two small Fender vintage reissue amps and two Fender Telecaster guitars, yielding more with less. Moakes was knocking the bottom out with his basslines. And Tong, easily one of the best drummers in rock 'n' roll, had every hip swaying and pelvis shaking within a five mile radius. The sonic equalization of Bloc Party's mix was perfect. Their simple songs became heroic with the addition of beautifully orchestrated colored and strobe lights.

"This may be the biggest show we've ever played," said Tong with sincere astonishment as he and his young mates looked out upon a sea of over 60,000 people.

If this ACL show was a sign of things to come, Bloc Party are set to explode into the bonafied next big thing. Cool enough for the punk rockers that liked Gang of Four and with enough guitar rock for the Radiohead fans left cold by experimentation, Bloc Party have the potential to become as big as the best British exports, The Police or Radiohead. With the danceable angularity of the Talking Heads and the deconstructionist lyricism of a literary giant, Bloc Party muscled its way through a perfect set that displayed the future of rock is upon us. If Bloc Party came into Austin bubbling under from the underground scene, they have left Austin simmering over into the mainstream music consciousness.

Natives of Australia, the John Butler Trio, played a short 45-minute set on the Austin Venture stage late Saturday afternoon, sharing their blend of reggae, funk and rock that left the audience clamoring for more. Using only an acoustic guitar, Butler accessed a series of effects, transforming a simple acoustic into a full-bodied electric at moments and a steel guitar at others. He was sometimes even able to pull of the switch halfway through a song. Without his band mates, he tore through the elaborate instrumental "Ocean," dedicating it to those affected by the recent hurricanes. Though occasionally sounding like a "jam band," they never went too far, keeping their instrumental breakdowns in check, while still creating intricate, seemingly spontaneous interludes.

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