M3F Festival 2023 Recaps: Maggie Rogers, Jamie xx, and More

FRIDAY, MARCH 3

Veronica Everheart

I’ve spent the last few years writing plenty about this young singer-songwriter. Mostly ‘cause I’m hugely convinced that Everheart could be a big talent to emerge from the Valley, and someone that we can collectively hang our hats on from an arts-culture standpoint. She more than proved that with the festival-opening set that garnered a small but enthusiastic crowd at the crack of 2 p.m. Playing what was seemingly her biggest stage to date (at least in terms of its actual size), Everheart and her band carved out a space amid the noticeable sprawl of Vista.

It didn’t matter much that her evocative, almost physical brand of punchy power-pop is made for far more intimate spaces — the trio had the confidence and cohesion to find their niche and ride it toward success (read: a great time at a proper rock show). If anything, it was a real treat to see how such a deeply personal set list existed in a massive space; Everheart’s heart-on-sleeves anthems and accompanying expressive vocal range had the oomph to draw the ear, the heart, and any other organs required for being both completely swayed and utterly devastated. The warm humor and earnest tendencies were just extra perks when you’re this compelling so dang early into a music career. If you weren’t paying attention to Everheart already, you’d better start now. Christopher Coplan

St. Terrible

St. Terrible, the music project driven by songwriter Zach Herbert, is based in Boise, Idaho. But it originally started, years ago, here in the Valley, when Herbert was at Gilbert’s Conservatory of Recording Arts and Sciences. That makes it something of a local show, and musically it felt like one, though the festival’s ambience didn’t match its sincerity. St. Terrible kept it simple on Friday, taking the stage with an acoustic guitar and a looper, which he used to craft layered, swarming harmonies at the end of tracks like “Emptiness Pt. II & III.”
Lyrically, he’s visceral and introspective, seemingly entranced by his own art on stage. In one moment, Herbert visibly shook at the knees belting the final blow of a song. On the vast Daydream stage, with only a few fans trickling in to catch St. Terrible’s 2:30 p.m. set, there was something voyeuristic about the performance, which drifted closer and closer to performance art than pure entertainment. While Herbert bled his soul into every piece, one fan rolled in the grass with a hula hoop, interpretive dancing for no one in particular. “You’re amazing!” another fan shouted during a song. In the silence after Herbert delivered the lyric, “Holy holy holy, whatever that may mean,” a street preacher could be heard shouting outside festival walls. For a 30-minute set, it was an excellent performance swallowed by its environment, and I’d love to see St. Terrible in a smaller venue. Perhaps there, the target audience will better align with Herbert’s musical candor. Gannon Hanevold

Del Water Gap

As an indie rock frontman, Holden Jaffe’s greatest trait is his ability to not take things too seriously. In a genre laced with bravado and desire to get the next TikTok hit, Jaffe — who performs under the name Del Water Gap — stands out for his unpretentiousness. For the entirety of his hourlong M3F set, Jaffe was a ball of potential energy. Despite his occasionally giddy dancing, he was vocally reserved on both slow burners, like “High Tops,” and bangers, like show opener “Hurting Kind.”

His most engaged fans in the crowd at M3F were an even blend of millennial and Gen Z, and Jaffe was more than capable of closing the generational (Del Water) gap. He donned a shell necklace and covered Avril Lavigne, all the while maintaining the detached swagger of a '20s college dorm everyman. Former bandmate and M3F headliner Maggie Rogers made an early cameo for “Better Than I Know Myself,” which earned the biggest daytime crowd reaction of the weekend. But it wasn’t until the end of his hourlong set that Jaffe himself let loose a scream, and it came on the final chorus of his biggest hit, “Ode to a Conversation Stuck in Your Throat.” Even then, he left the stage unceremoniously afterward, nonchalantly tossing his microphone to the stage floor and walking out as his band wrapped up. Del Water Gap is perennially on deck as an indie rock juggernaut, and self-assured enough to sell you on it. GH

Winston Surfshirt

I guess I’m not sure what I expected from a band actually called Winston Surfshirt. If I’m being honest, my heart of hearts wanted a jokey surf rock band, or a Tiny Tim type with a jazzy spin. And what we got was a kind of R&B-acid-jazz-hip-hop-electro-pop hybrid whose biggest problem seemed to have been a total lack of organic commitment to any of those aforementioned genre tags to sound meaningful whatsoever. And, sure, that sort of genre-blurring tendency is a proper feature of the fest and deserves attention/praise. But if it’s in service or something that feels manipulative in its goal to sound just enough like many things to capture an audience — the musical equivalent of buckshot, basically — then maybe it’s just not all that compelling.

The crowd didn’t seem to mind as they turned an early set into a casual dance-fest that would have even made some headliners envious. But this is the one time I just couldn’t let the crowd have it — the band members were bottom-barrel-scraping hacks of the festival circuit, and no one else seeing the forced tendencies and hackneyed vibes is a proper condemnation against the blinders that we often put on to make the price of admission seem worthwhile. The best part — aside from the occasional trombone solo, of course — was when the lead singer hilariously couldn’t get back onto the stage after dancing amid the crowd. If only 'cause maybe the show would’ve ended earlier. CC
Darius

Despite covering a slew of genre-hopping festivals in years prior, DJs have always remained a noticeable blind spot in my repertoire. Partially because they only show up at dance-centric events (like M3F), or as mega-superstars at your top-tier outings like Lollapalooza. But also, in my limited experience, they’re a lot like the day’s earlier set from The Knocks: mostly OK, but irksome in their extreme demand for crowd participation and this asinine need to come off not like a DJ set. Darius didn’t have that problem, and he seemed far more interested in spinning cuts than trying to make a spectacle of his hourlong set. That’s exactly what you want from a proper DJ: a recognition of the inherent limitations and opportunities. The former being that, aside from some slick lighting tricks, the stage show ain’t really there, which is fine and dandy. The latter, then, was to build an immersive experience, where folks can engage the space and the rest of the crowd how they deemed fit.

And with Darius’ fairly eclectic mix — lots of nuance and variety amid a pretty stacked collection of house and techno — the mood ebbed and flowed as to foster a proper atmosphere of frills-free fun and communal connectivity. That lack of “curation” you find in other DJ sets is often constrictive; here, things just felt more accessible, like we’d all just sort of wandered into your typical block party. Background conversations and little pockets of dancing became as central as the music itself, giving the set a power of sorts without shoehorning anyone into a particular experience. If you’ve got these levels of humanity (and great tunes to boot), you don’t need a call-and-response or even airhorns to make a little dusk-time magic. CC
COIN

Nobody needs to tell COIN that they’re a pop band. Some fans at M3F appeared to know the Nashville band from their certified gold single “Talk Too Much,” which does little to indicate what a live COIN performance might be like. “Crash My Car,” the 2020 tune the band closed with on Friday, has been rotating at Macy’s the last three years. Hence my surprise when frenetic lead singer Chase Lawrence spiked his mic stand, scaled 15 feet of metal scaffolding at stage right, and screamed down at the crowd like King Kong after the song’s final chorus. Behind him, the video board sported an 8-foot ladybug and the words “Learning & Loving” in picturesque cursive font. There’s a strange dichotomy watching a band with such polished, mainstream appeal perform with such frenzy (or maybe it’s the Matty Healy effect). But I simply couldn’t look away.

The key to COIN’s success on stage seems to be drummer Ryan Winnen, whose departures during breakdowns led to some of the show’s best moments. Winnen was able to change pace with ease and guided a seamless transition between two of the band’s tracks, released five years apart — 2022's “Take A Picture” and 2017's “Hannah.” While a slower ballad like “I Think I Met You In A Dream” sort of derailed the set’s momentum, it was another slow track that brought it back. “Malibu 1992” was one of the rare B-sides to transfix M3F attendees all weekend. While performing, Lawrence seemed to be wrestling with himself, thrashing on stage to sing the hook. By the song’s end, a cathartic finale steered by Winnnen, Lawrence fell to the ground. He got up fist pumping like Michael Jordan in the NBA Finals, screaming into the night sky, simmering down in time for the opening lick of the next song — “Talk Too Much.” GH
Neil Frances

In a festival mostly split (no matter how unevenly) between both actual bands and DJs, Neil Frances were a bridge of sorts. And it seems like a mostly obvious, perhaps slightly silly thing to remark upon, but there’s something nice about having something more than just a DJ on stage. (Even if it’s ultimately just two guys behind some keys and drum machines.) Especially when they were still expertly delivering the same kind of robust, high-energy smorgasbord of various techno sounds — with at least one noticeable “repeat” from a group’s earlier set. (You just cannot deny a true classic like Crystal Waters' "Gypsy Woman,” and why it’s in so many set lists.) But the real difference wasn’t just the actual human faces but the vocal output and all that it represented.

Again, it’s a seemingly subtle thing, but the croon of Marc Gilfry, even if not featured across every song, added a sheen of depth and emotionality, creating some solid textures throughout. They were something to dress up all those sweet synths and banging rhythms with just a touch more humanity and some connective potential. And it’s a sense that informed a lot of the other big moments during the set, offering personality (like on their “cover” of another classic, Stardust’s “Music Sounds Better With You”) as well as just more layers to what could’ve been another good dance party among a suite of similar gatherings. The end result was a pivot of sorts for the rest of the fest’s dance and electro offerings. And for a moment you thought the park had turned into some secret, super glorious European nightclub. The little touches make a truly big difference, and Neil Frances set themselves apart just by flaunting those details, and their resulting energies, in all the very best ways. CC
Polo & Pan

There’s a moment that happens at these festivals, usually when the headlining acts start hitting the stage, where the mood shifts on a dime. A good time transforms almost immediately into a full-blown extravaganza. People gather in even larger, more rowdy groups than ever before. People in overalls come over to ask you about your life goals. And this shift can be the thing that turns a good set into something truly memorable. Not that the duo of Polo & Pan really needed the help to begin with, but it sure did make a difference. The French pair have perfected a brand of oh-so popular house that emphasizes some really solid tropical influences.

What that means is that they are as likely to sample island rhythms as ragtime and even old film trailers for a sound that emphasizes fun and quirkiness as much as the sweet bass and inherent sex appeal. The newly energized crowd, whipped up in record time to new heights, responded kindly with flourishes of dancing and proper displays of romance. Again, maybe people would’ve been just as hyped for just about any performance. But the pair fully recognized the benefits of the moment and really leaned into it with a set that seemed to define a lot of the crowd’s movements and reactions at-large. Controlling a crowd of this size is no easy feat, and the pair seemed to do it the old-fashioned way: playing their set with a genuine interest and earnest passion for engaging the particularities of this white-hot Phoenix crowd.

Sure, a sick light show and everyone being on their fifth (or 10th) beer was ultimately another integral part of their formula for success, but you can’t downplay what P&P did to make the moment feel as properly alive and celebratory — without overly gesticulating or over-planning the moment. It’s weird to think something as pedestrian as, say, an ABBA sample could’ve been a genuinely big deal, but when plotted out and delivered with such efficiency, it made a moment so much more during a set marked by such deep magic. So, thanks for something monumental — even if it was just an hour where everyone got to connect. CC
Maggie Rogers

Friday night’s performance at M3F was Maggie Rogers’ first headlining set at a U.S. festival. If she didn’t say so, nobody would’ve noticed. Rogers carried herself with both pop-glam and rock 'n’ roll conviction, and I’m wholeheartedly convinced that she’s a virtuoso deserving of more headlining placement.

Like the main act she is, Rogers theatrically took the stage, which was designed symmetrically, with percussionists on either side and a staircased walkway dividing it in two. Rogers stepped into the center, flanked by stand-up white lights on either side. And by the end of set list opener “Overdrive,” she was already sustaining lengthy notes that few indie pop vocalists can in a live setting. She originally sported a black leather coat, but shedded it to the cheers of her fans before performing “Want Want,” one of the standout singles on her 2022 album Surrender. (With the temperature 51 degrees at showtime, the coat went back on a few songs later.)

Rogers moved efficiently through her set list, ending each track with an assured nod and a smirk before the lights went dark. “Alaska,” with its thumping bassline and easily hummable hook, pleased the more electronic-skewing fans in attendance; “Love You For A Long Time,” with its acoustic foundation and folk storytelling, pleased the indie fans. Throughout the set, Rogers took time to dance loosely across the stage. She shared a moment with every member of her band, including guitarist Bryndon Cook, who also performs under the solo moniker Starchild. Cook’s riffs stood out on grittier tracks like “Shatter.” The set’s biggest misstep came from what Rogers didn’t play, as her usual tour set list was shrunk to fit the 60-minute slot. B-sides like “Begging For Rain” and Del Water Gap collaboration “New Song” didn’t make the cut.

Still, there were the hits, which more often made it feel like a Rogers show, and not like a festival booking. She closed with “Light On” and “That’s Where I Am,” and for 10 minutes after the set ended, a few dozen fans waited hopefully in front of the stage for an encore. They wishfully questioned if she would disregard precedent and give out one more, trying multiple times to strike up the chant. Event staff members were unplugging speakers and picking loose cans off the lawn when one fan asked a friend, “You think she’ll at least come out and sign stuff?” GH

SATURDAY, MARCH 4

Slug Bug!

Another bright festival day opened up with another great indie rock act. The quartet of Slug Bug! is, in many ways, a lot like Friday’s Veronica Everheart: a clear affinity for ‘90s rock, heart-on-sleeve songwriting, and a faintly precocious energy and sensibilities. But they’re also so much more. Whether it’s the overt technical prowess; the fact that each member looks like they could be in dramatically different bands (a great sign for a truly multifaceted group); and/or a sound that is both grand and crunchy and thus perfectly suited for the sizable Vista stage, SB! had a mighty presence.

But mostly they were a veritable boatload of fun, and the fact that the decently sized audience (for an early set, mind you) was filled with friends and family lent an air of warmth and familiarity. Maybe it wasn’t so much like a family get-together/barbecue, but maybe a basement show from somewhere we’ve all spent hours — like the nearby Trunk Space, perhaps? — without forgoing all that glorious sunshine. It was a showcase of dueling energies and sentiments — fun and ferocious, intense and thoughtful — which is perhaps the best way to encapsulate this young and super promising band. In short, not a bad way to spend a semi-lazy Saturday afternoon. CC
Flora ElmColone

Before the Cosmic stage’s first performance of the afternoon, M3F festival organizers used the microphone to welcome fans. Just behind them, San Francisco singer-songwriter Flora ElmColone took a nervous deep breath. By the end of her 30-minute set, she turned to her bassist and let out a deeper exhale. While her early morning set time had a scarce crowd, ElmColone demonstrated legitimate songwriting prowess, performing sincere indie rock tracks that touched thematically on things like imposter syndrome and social anxiety. Performing “The Contortionist” seemed to bring out her musical confidence with its faster pace, which carried into its set list successors, “Heat Lamp” and “Reincarnation.”

"Fuck the ones who broke your heart, fuck the ones who wouldn’t,” she sang on her final song of the afternoon. Friends of hers who flew into Phoenix to support sang along in the front row, and it was a solid opening to the Saturday slate. It’s clear this was only the beginning for ElmColone, too. (Also, as an aside — ElmColone had my favorite piece of merch from the weekend, an affordable and minimalist off-white tee with the title of her song “I Want To Have A Garden” on the front.) GH

PawPaw Rod

PawPaw Rod, the stage name for Rodney Hulsey, made a compelling case as the weekend’s most memorable early afternoon performer. Smoking a cigarette and looking at the crowd from over the top of his gold-rimmed aviators, he took the stage with John Wayne posture. Any time a photographer posed below the stage, Rod looked coldly down the lens, never missing a bar.

It was his first time performing in Phoenix, but many fans knew the words to upbeat alt-R&B songs like “Glass House” and “HIT EM WHERE IT HURTS,” which bookended the set. “I had to Google if weed was legal here,” he said before performing “Lemonhaze” — a song that prompted many fans to indulge, exercising their legal freedom. In a moment of openness, the Oklahoma-based artist discussed growing up in a military family, and how moving around as a kid prepared him for a life of touring. Even while sharing consecutive new songs late in the set, Rod had his audience jumping, because with his playful magnetism, it was impossible to stand still. GH
EVAN GIIA

The Brooklyn-based singer was originally meant to have just 30 minutes. Then the schedule got shuffled after Quinn XCII dropped out of Friday's lineup. That meant the still-rising electronic artist with a few dance chart hits had to step up. An hourlong set was otherwise unheard of during the daytime; 30-minute chunks meant that everything flowed quite smoothly. But it felt like a proper decision — besides whatever it offered the schedule — and was essential for forging a big moment so early in the day. The singer — born Evan Giarrusso — had a sizable enough spectrum of tunes, and even if they leaned toward pop-centric bangers, she had the time and space to unfurl things effectively. (She opened with a bare-bones classical piece that served as the first goosebump-inducing moment of the weekend. Plus, “For Aisha” was a heart-ripping ballad.)

A big part of that range’s effect wasn’t just her inherent vocal power and grace but also this prevailing sense of joy and vulnerability that pushed otherwise good songs into becoming the poignant tinder for uniting an entire field of enthused attendees. Her banter between songs built on the experience, and it further informed the kind of mass catharsis and personal celebration that Giarrusso expertly facilitated. The crowd readily bought into her “dance therapy” session; in fact, it was rare for an audience this early in either day to seem as compelled and in-sync with an artist. At one point, Giarrusso told a story about playing M3F 2019, performing sharply at noon to some 40 guests. At this rate, as she continues to deliver with such vigor, she’ll be headlining by 2025. CC
Chiiild

Chiiild had everything on paper to deliver a genuinely great performance. A genre-less, “non-denominational” sound; a charismatic frontman in Yonatan "xSDTRK" Ayal; a decent swell of buzz; and a primo pre-dusk slot. Yet it felt like things just never clicked for the Montreal outfit. It could’ve been that aforementioned, freewheeling sound — it didn’t really feel poignant enough for emotional displays, and wasn’t nearly robust and energetic enough for dancing one’s face off. And as perfect as the 4:30 p.m. slot often is, it needed something big and bold to really catapult us from the day into the night’s corresponding mood. Ultimately, it was likely that their pseudo-banger-ballads just weren’t a proper fit for the actual space. (The mighty Vista is a daunting task, and maybe they would have excelled more at the smaller Cosmic stage sometime in the mid-evening.)

The end result was met by mostly polite interactions from the crowd, and not nearly enough of that intangible oomph that truly great sets exude across every moment. The most annoying thing, though, was this low-level sense that we were only one instance (a big groove, or something in the crowd shifting suddenly) from making this outing generally memorable. At one point, someone nearby commented that it was “almost like The Weeknd” before they’d effectively trailed off. That tells you everything you needed to know about this one. CC

Chelsea Cutler

By the end of the afternoon Saturday, M3F fans seemed restless for a headliner, and by some metrics, Chelsea Cutler fit the bill. After all, her last two performances came in Times Square on New Year’s Eve and in India for Lollapalooza, and she’s got more than 8 million monthly listeners on Spotify. A live drummer and keyboardist even threw an exciting wrench into her often risk-free brand of pop. But ultimately, fans at the Daydream stage seemed eager for more bass drops and less sentimentality. It made for somewhat of an awkward show with Cutler’s divided discography.

Cutler started strong with her upbeat 2020 track “Sad Tonight,” but I spotted a fan repetitively mocking a teardrop gesture during the titular lyric, which should’ve been a sign of things to come. After introducing the mostly acoustic “Crazier Things,” boozy, aspiring influencers audibly groaned, talking through most of the song’s vulnerable, catchy hook. Even Cutler’s biggest hit, her Jeremy Zucker collaboration “you were good to me,” was a sideshow. “I promise this is my last slow song,” Cutler said before starting it, and she cut the song short before the second verse. Quinn XCII — who was on the M3F bill before canceling at the last minute due to a scooter accident — got a shout-out before “Calling All Angels,” one of their many collaborations together.

But even there, fans got caught up in singalongs and thrown off by Cutler’s altered instrumental arrangement. Cutler was a formidable performer, at times both relatable and exciting, but sadly many fans at M3F saw her as a means to a drop. GH
Peach Pit

Things didn’t start off strong for Peach Pit on Saturday. They opened with “Being So Normal,” a groovy surf rock melody typical of the band. But before they could finish, the sound at the main stage completely caved. The vocals cut out, then the guitars rose to an intolerably loud level. After regulating the guitars, the bass increased even louder, vibrating the jumbotrons on either side of the stage.

The drums were only audible for those close enough to the band. “Turn that shit up!” one fan yelled. “How’s it going Phoenix?” lead singer Neil Smith asked into a broken microphone. Luckily, after some struggles, things leveled out in time for “Alrighty Aphrodite,” as guitarist Christopher Vanderkooy helped the band recover gracefully.

“Is somebody here smoking Palo Santo?” Smith asked after the mic allowed banter again. “It smells like my apartment in here.”

It felt like it, too. Watching Peach Pit’s performance felt like watching a group of friends noodle around at a house show. The Vancouver band was so cavalier that it was easy to forget just how challenging many of the licks they pulled off were until Vanderkooy reminded me by improvising a solo on 2017’s “Private Presley.” On “Brian’s Movie,” he busted out a dual-neck guitar, despite the song’s relative placidity, because why not? With he and Smith sharing the stage spotlight, everything sort of bled together into a subgenre of indie rock more accessible than psychedelia but just as hypnotic.

Their syrupy stoner rock was naturally congenial, pieced together with lyrics about Britney and Brian and Vickie and Tommy, who you don’t know, but you might as well. I’d argue that makes them a good fit for any festival bill. GH
Emmit Fenn

This Berkeley, California, native has quite the musical CV. He’s played several instruments; studied music theory; released his first viral hit, 2015’s “Painting Grey,” while still attending college; and produced for Billie Eilish. But how did that all translate on stage? In a word — entertaining. In a few words — entertaining if not somewhat uneven. Because a vital chunk of Fenn’s M.O. leans decidedly toward the intricate and sentimental, as if he records soundtracks for obscure indie flicks (both romcoms and coming-of-age titles). While those songs set the mood with efficiency, you still got the sense that, momentarily, the crowd didn’t fully know how to react, or they required added input.

Luckily, Fenn had the necessary tools — a great light/stage show, a dash or two of humor (he made us all howl at the moon), and these deeply effective vocals — to guide the crowd where they ultimately wanted to land. And that was a place where everyone was firmly in their respective feelings, or existing in some heightened mood, emoting collectively for a massive shared release. But then there were other parts, too, like those big dance bangers and sweat-inducing anthems, which seemed a little easier for folks to leap into (but lacked the true extent of Fenn’s greater prowess). In the end, it was Fenn’s charisma and robust productions that made this semi-uneven process feel perfectly natural, a set focused on dramatic moods over anything else. He told us at one point it was going to get weird — and it sure did. He just failed to mention it would also prove to be sensual, silly, a little moody, and an all-around immersive experience. CC
Toro y Moi

Despite starting his set eight minutes later than its scheduled 8 p.m. start, the veteran chillwave producer known as Chaz Bear made the most of his time. Backed by a bassist, keyboard player and DJ, he was participatory to varying degrees as a focal performer. He sometimes hopped on the turntables to add a layer, but mostly just paced and took it all in, donned with an orange letterman jacket and LED-laced sunglasses. On “The Loop,” Chaz Bear brought out a white guitar and played an impressive riff high on the neck. For most of the set, the instrument sat dormant on display, seemingly proof of his musical virtuosity. Whether it was looping, jangly keys or endlessly tapering 808s, subtle instrumental accents set his performance apart from the other synth-heavy artists on the bill. Late into the festival’s second day, it’s easy for things to feel monotonous, and Toro y Moi didn’t let that happen.

On “The Difference,” his hit collaboration with Flume, he showed off some serious vocal chops. And between tracks, he was keen on sharing some sort of one-liner, never going silent for too long. “Let’s try and wake up this apartment!” he joked before “Laws of the Universe,” gesturing to the condominiums surrounding Hance Park. “Make some noise if you ever saw us at Crescent Ballroom,” he added before “Rose Quartz,” nodding in approval to a fan sitting on another’s shoulders. It’s hard to believe Toro y Moi was once at a stature small enough to fit inside the local 500-capacity venue, because he had at least double that number focused on Saturday. GH
Jamie xx

Jamie xx was, in theory, sort of an odd choice for a headlining act. It’s not because he’s unskilled; his work with The xx and his solo efforts (not to mention producing an exceptional Gil Scott-Heron record) prove how poignant and adventurous he is as a producer. And he’s also got more than enough experience performing and DJing worldwide.

No, it actually has everything to do with M3F, and if he had some tendency or qualities to cap things off in a way that best fit this weird little fest. Perhaps the best answer is that it truly was "mission accomplished" — and so much more. Because if you look at it from, say, a mere genre standpoint, Mr. xx was a true outlier. He was just as likely to use some white-hot hip-hop sample that poked the audience in the gooiest parts of their brains as some obscure, sonically jarring bit. But he’s such a whiz at mixing it all together, blurring the lines between the hugely familiar and the overwhelmingly strange into a heady rush of body-shaking rhythms.

But then what about in terms of other tried-and-true elements from across the weekend’s other offerings? Did he have a dynamic stage show? A great repertoire of call-and-response bits? Maybe even more Daft Punk samples?! Aside from some stellar lights and smoke, you may not have even known a genuine person was on that stage. But then that’s sort of perfect; the music is entirely the draw, and the way it rolled on in one extended mega-mix was novel for this whole fest.

And it really made all the difference — if xx wanted to "shock and awe" attendees into a frenetic tizzy, then he couldn’t have chosen a better approach than full steam ahead. (Even as there was a kind of narrative to the mix, with ebbing and flowing emotions and heaps of varied, interplaying textures.) So, in a way, xx felt like the most perfect extension of what this year tried to do (promote communal gathering backed by transcendent sounds); yet he was a total maverick, pushing the notion of what makes a properly entertaining set (that was as confrontational as it was uplifting and even comforting).

Maybe other sets over the weekend were more immediately popular, or somehow “interesting,” but xx blazed a path for strangeness and complexity to be as thrilling as all the mega bangers possible. Plus, his set, by far, featured the weekend’s most ample displays of ugly dancing, and the crowds’ uber dumb faces and herky-jerky gesticulations merited so many gold stars. CC