Lollapalooza 2011, Saturday: Beirut

The chanting (bay-root!, bay-root!), whoops and hollers that occurred long before any player took the stage seemed worthy of a much larger arena-rock act—neighboring My Morning Jacket, for example. Fest goers of all ages—retirees, toddlers, tweens, twenties—crowded ‘round for a Balkan-inspired dance party. To be honest, I had no idea this band had so many die-hard fans. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not unaware of the critical acclaim these guys have received. But half of this crowd could have easily popped a squat for My Morning Jacket, or packed up the kids and gone home already.

As I pondered the strange phenomenon, I began to notice something: French, Spanish (the Spain version), something Slavic, Japanese, more Spanish (the rest-of-the-world version). The bulk of this crowd was international. For a band whose humble beginnings were the product of one young artist’s coming-of-age travels through Europe, it’s pretty amazing that now, six years later, they seem to have the much of the continent at the tips of their trumpets. Who’d have thought the rest of the world would be so interested in American white boys playing their music, that they’d travel half way around the world to see it? That’s the power of the Internet, and Brazilian television (the band’s song “Elephant Gun” was featured on the miniseries Capitu) I guess.  

Singer-songwriter, uke- and-trumpet player, and overall ringmaster Zach Condon along with trumpeter extraordinaire Kelly Pratt took to the stage with the rest of the their merry clan and immediately launched into “Elephant Gun”, which was met with syncopated claps, stomps, guttural utterances and airplane-arm spinning that never stopped. It may sound a bit like I’m describing Burning Man, but I assure you, there was nothing hippie about this (aside from the smell of weed drifting overhead). It was a neat thing—like what I imagine attending a music festival in Barcelona, Rio, Tokyo or some other cross-continental cultural hub would be like.

Condron’s preciously-imperfect crooning mesmerized the crowd of happy clappers who erupted each time Pratt started in on his horn, most notably during “Scenic World”, “Postcards From Italy” and “The Canals of Our City”. The reason these guys can pull off this sort global copycatting is that they’re all, for the most part, classically trained musicians who play their instruments boldly and correctly. They don’t keep it too tidy mind you—they’re mixing Central European folk music with indie-rock undertones after all. What they belt out is the perfect blend of old world and accessibility. I caught myself momentarily drifting to my own time spent living in Europe. “The Gulag Orkestar” has that distinct ability to captivate and transport. It was nice dose of cultural nostalgia after a long day spent navigating throngs of Budweiser bros and porta johns