There was a moment that occurred last night when I left the incendiary IDLES barnburner at Ponce during the final song, caught the end of a startingly good Alice Cooper set at Piedmont and proceeded immediately to Peachtree, where I heard Killer Mike vow to the hometown crowd that he and El-P would be tearing the proverbial roof off the house.
It was a unique cultural intersection, happening at a specific time in a singular place and uniting three generations of artists representing three separate musical genres. In the midst of such a stimulating environment/creative wellspring, it’s hard to think of any other festival that could proffer such an indelible memory.
This edition of Shaky Knees is turning out to be an extraordinary experience in general, and we can’t wait to see where things take us on the last day. The following are our impressions of a spectacular Saturday. – Matt Rankin
Mercury Rev
Gradually building each of its elaborate yet approachable anthems to a cathartic and emphatic release on the main Peachtree Stage, the Buffalo band relished its time in the sun – both figuratively and literally, as our star was unrelenting on this rather warm Saturday afternoon. Rev commanded Shaky’s largest perch with an ease borne of three decades of experience, exuding real swagger and confidence in its ability to deliver a quality set.
Which it did with some comfort. While the Big Ears alums have produced some inscrutable material in their tenure, this setlist featured many of the group’s more straightforward, rock-based numbers. It was not a matter of catering to the masses, however; there was plenty to discern in these compositions, and true appreciation of them required deep listening.
The effort was made easier by the excellent musicianship on display, and the reward was hastened by its richly textured sound, which was driven in propulsive fashion by the rhythm section. The drumming in particular was superb, a fact astutely pointed out by TJ Reynolds, a friend to BLANK and one of our past Shaky Knees correspondents. The only disappointing aspect of the show was the thin crowd, as the master craftsmanship deserved a larger audience. – MR
Larkin Poe
The first part of this set was taken in from a lush, shaded corner of the Piedmont lawn while devouring (more like inhaling, really) a delicious Roti Roll. The second was enjoyed just a ways down the hill while waiting for Garbage. Still, the top-notch musicality and professional nature of these Georgia natives was clearly evident, and their excitement to be a part of the festival was palpable, as well. Their roots-rock stylings, although easily digestible and fairly conventional, were laced with a gritty edge, making for a performance that made more of an impression than I had anticipated. It was a solid all-around showing for a group on the rise. – MR
Garbage
I consider myself to be an avid fan of Garbage’s premillennial output, but I’d be lying if I said that I’ve kept up with what the darlings of the late-‘90s alternative scene have been doing in the intervening decades. But based on the intriguing, sometimes arresting newer material the band performed Saturday evening, perhaps I should have.
Then again, the tunes with which I was more familiar were incredibly engaging and oftentimes gripping. The refreshing guitar jangle that offsets the plaintive mechanical thump at the beginning of “Stupid Girl” induced goosebumps, and I caught myself with my mouth agape when the group launched into a careening, sinister rendering of “#1 Crush,” one of the many highlights of the soundtrack to Baz Luhrmann’s adaptation of “Romeo + Juliet.”
The fierce, stabbing synths of that track had my jaw slackened, but my eyes turned watery at Shirley Manson’s positive, heartfelt banter between songs. It was indicative of the creative, improvisational spirit that permeated the entire set and which resulted in new life being pushed into old songs and extra energy being added to the modern fare. It was an awesome thing to behold; this was bucket-list-caliber stuff. – MR
IDLES
I spotted innumerable festivalgoers sporting t-shirts of the riotous punk band throughout the day on Saturday, and they all were gathered under the tent at Ponce at dusk, chanting their desire 15 minutes in advance of the scheduled start time for the band to appear from backstage and melt their faces. Obliging them two minutes early, cups flew above the surging horde as the anti-fascist brigade launched into what just might be the most electrifying performance I’ve ever witnessed.
Visceral, present and ferocious, the band exhibited complete control over the audience, spurring it to a frenzy and inviting droves of curious onlookers to gather en masse at the rear and sides of the area. Crushingly loud yet expertly mixed, the wall of sound pummeled the hardcore supporters up front, impelling scores of them to mosh, crowd surf and/or pogo. Individuals soaked in sweat and other various liquids would emerge one by one from the throng, looking dazed and – in some cases – scared by the fury they had just experienced. (The earliest casualties seemed particularly affected.)
Welsh singer Joseph Talbot’s voice was in great form, his throaty rasp punctuating the brutality of the music and its message. Shaky Knees features what easily is the most diverse patronage of any festival I’ve ever attended, and the tenor of the show seemed to resonate with everyone on hand. The demographics of the crowd ranged widely, with some of the most fervent fans being barely old enough to walk.
Despite the aforementioned tumult, one family with a 4-year-old son (wearing protective headphones) lasted in the multitude for at least half of the hour-long set. Upon seeing what must have been a shocked expression on my face, the shepherding mother smiled and said, “He’s been listening to them nonstop for a year.” Soon after, another young woman holding a toddler sidled up near where I was standing stage right. The child motioned that he wanted to be let down, and when he was, he immediately began dancing like no one was watching and with a grin stretched from one ear to the other. It was a moment of such pure, unbridled joy that it inspired me to do the same. – MR
Run the Jewels
Emotionally raw yet spellbinding in its beauty, the hip-hop duo’s headlining turn at Peachtree ended Saturday on an incredibly high note. Trading fierce verses with an ease that belied its dexterous precision, the rappers wove a lyrical tapestry as dense as the cloud of smoke that lingered above the hometown crowd. The pair delivered choice cuts from its four-deep catalog, keeping a quick clip to fit into the time constraints of the set, which ran a full hour less than the previous night’s closers.
The sound quality of the main stage continues to impress; even RTJ’s most bass-heavy tracks were done justice, with the clarity of the vocals remaining intact. Performing live and in concert for one of the first times since the release of its best and most ambitious album in the summer of 2020, the social-justice themes that are explored on the record carried as much weight Saturday night as they did when they were first presented. And the manner in which the message was disseminated was deserving of the top billing; this show marked the third time I’ve caught a festival set by the duo, and it was the best by a wide margin. – MR
