First Aid Kit: "It Hurts Me Too" and "I Met Up with a King"

Loyal readers (and anyone wandering the Internets),

I'm excited to introduce a new guest blogger, Juke Box Hero. He's a good friend with great taste in music and a sophisticated -- one might say global -- way about him. His posts will be appearing Wednesdays from now until infinity, or until he picks another day, whichever comes first.

Sir, the floor is yours.

- Brittany

I suppose you've really "made it" when you have Jack White calling you into his studio after a gig. The prolific rocktreprenuer snatched up the Swedish sirens known as First Aid Kit without skipping one high lonesome beat after seeing them perform a Nashville gig last October. The duo got to press this cover of "It Hurts Me Too" into vinyl for White's series of Third Man Records seven-inch one-offs. Theirs is a great success story for Mr. Gore to notch on his Internet belt; if not for MySpace and YouTube, First Aid Kit might still be stuck in the hills of Scandinavia. Fortunately for us, the world now sounds a little prettier.

The Söderberg sisters are the surefire rebuttal to any doubt that American-minded folk (revival) music is alive and well with today’s Swedish youth. Since 2007, the Stockholm-based duo of Johanna, 21, and Klara, 18, has been recording sweet, tight harmonies in the vein of the Carter Family, Gram Parsons, and even Simon & Garfunkel. The exotic novelty of foreigners channeling Americana wears off as soon as they count off a song ‘ett, tva, tre, fyra’ (one to four in Swedish). The girls aren’t just good for a couple of teenage troubadours; they could hold their own with your Partons, your Judds, your Dylans, your Baezeses…

Though the homespun tracks posted to their MySpace page initially drew a bit of attention from the Swedish music community, things really took off when they casually covered kindred spirits the Fleet Foxes’ "Tiger Mountain Peasant Song." They recorded the track in an actual Scandinavian forest, which also served as the setting for the music video. The brisk, pastoral setting coupled with their tinglingly strong vocals and innocent, elfish beauty made the video a quick hit on YouTube, even drawing the attention (and approval) of their heavily bearded honorees. A few acoustic strums later and they’d released two studio records, 2008's LP "Drunken Trees" and 2010’s EP "The Big Black & the Blue." Hence the young Swedish sisters embarked on what’s become a two-year international tour.

Unlike the Bed Intruders and Rebecca Blacks of our insta-stardom world, the mass discovery of First Aid Kit (the name apparently came from a Swedish-English dictionary entry) was fortunate. The girls’ emotional, narrative melodies may not be as genre-splittingly creative as their countrywoman Lykke Li (though they’re touring together now, so maybe some electro-power-pop will rub off?), but there’s an unmistakable genuineness, a raw soul, that consistently pours out through their soaring, intertwining voices.

We’ll leave you with one of my favourite tracks from their EP: "I Met Up with a King." Enjoy the flutey synths (Simon & G-Funk anyone?), that uncanny melding of Klara’s bright twangy mezzo and Johanna’s sultry alto, and the acknowledgment that despite the worldly depth of many of their songs’ lyrics, [their characters] have quite a ways to go yet: ‘Well I don’t know anything at all and we mean nothing to history… well thank God.’

- Juke Box Hero

Lollapalooza 2011 Recap: Part 1

Lollapalooza celebrated its 20th anniversary this year. As a Chicagoan and a musician, my attendance was karmically necessary. But I couldn't swing the $200 three-day pass. So I snuck in through the metaphorical back door, volunteering for the festival and working a daily four-hour shift in return for a free wristband. It was so incredibly totally wonderfully unquestionably friggin' worth it, and I absolutely suggest you apply next year.

This was my third Lollapalooza -- I attended in both 2007 and 2009 -- so I like to think I had a more thought-out approach this year. Of course, the most well-intentioned plan goes out the window once you're actually there, pounding the pavement from one end of the mile-long festival to the other, surrounded by dirty hippies and hipsters and club kids dressed like the cast of Super Mario Brothers.

What I'm trying to say is, my God I love Lollapalooza. Here's part one of the two-part recap.

90,000 people per day attended Lollapalooza this year. If they weren't dirty hippies when they arrived, they were by the time they left.

Friday

I had to work my real-person job on Friday, so my Lolla volunteer shift was 4:30pm to 8:30pm, meaning I missed basically the entire day of music. Bummer, but I had a blast volunteering for the box office team. They gave me a bright orange t-shirt and a megaphone and set me loose on Michigan Avenue, where I was supposed to direct people with tickets to head directly to the main gate at Michigan and Congress. I got to chat with a lot of people from all over the world, from Ireland to Australia (my two favorite accents), and after a couple hours I knew lots of useful information, like where exactly where to find the scalpers. (Jackson and Wabash, if you're wondering.) Everyone was super friendly and happy to be there; I even met a quartet of people dressed as the Flintstones. A few people asked to take their picture with me. That was flattering. A few others tried to rush the gate and got smacked by a security guard with a folding chair. That was hilarious.

The only fly in the cotton candy was the band of religious zealots that secured a permit to yell mean things at Jews and women through their own megaphone, thirty feet from the Lolla box office. Their sign listed the things that men should do -- be masculine, bring home the bacon, etc. -- and the things that women should do -- be quiet and do the dishes. I wish I was kidding. At one point the guy yelled that Lady Gaga and the Foo Fighters wouldn't lead to salvation. I informed the onlookers that Lady Gaga wasn't performing at Lolla this year, but if they wanted to see the Foo Fighters, they should head directly to the main gate with their tickets to receive a wristband!

I also made friends with my fellow volunteers, most of whom were 20-something music-lovers and musicians. We compared intended setlists, joked with patrons, and did our best to make people feel welcome and informed in spite of the angry chauvinists a few yards away.

With my new buddies Francesca and Nikkita.

The biggest complaint from Friday festivalgoers concerned the agonizing decision between the day's headliners: Coldplay, Muse, or Girl Talk? I heard great things about both Coldplay and Muse's performances, but my decision was easy: I saw Girl Talk this spring and couldn't wait to experience it again. After my shift I had time to grab some $5 beers and catch his set at the Perry's DJ tent. Greg Gillis did not disappoint, playing a set based on his newest album, All Day. (Download the album for free here.)

I happened to see Fred Flintstone again at the Girl Talk show. I asked him where Wilma was, but he didn't know or care. I guess it wasn't meant to be.

Saturday

Getting my ass out of bed for my 9am shift the next day was decidedly difficult (no doubt it had something to do with those $5 beers), but I rallied and logged another four hours on the box office team. It was a much chiller morning because people already had their wristbands and knew where to go. The antisemitic chauvinists were unfortunately still there, but they were megaphoneless for the duration of my shift, which was a blessing. We focused on more important things, like the team of promoters that were handing out Mentos by the bucketload next to us:

Mentos, the freshmaker!(Mmmm, candy from strangers.)

I left the festival for a few hours of food and a nap, sadly missing the Maps & Atlases set. (My mother wasn't too happy with me for that one.) But I did make it for a few Local Natives songs, and they impressed me with their harmonies and "aw shucks" stage presence. It was great to see the crowd so huge for a relatively unknown band with only one album out. Before playing their last song, the band announced to cheers that they're in the studio working on number two. Mark my words: this is a band to watch.

The rest of my night was to be a tight squeeze: Cee Lo Green followed by an already in-progress Beats Antique set on the exact opposite ends of the grounds, finished off with Eminem back at the first stage. I didn't leave myself time for dinner, which I'll venture was my only big mistake of the festival.

I was really excited for Cee Lo's set, because he seems kooky enough to put on an entertaining show. But I was sorely disappointed. Not only was his set too short, but it was plagued with sound problems and Cee Lo himself lacked both energy and talent. The guy did not sound like a very good singer. He of course ended with the iconic "Fuck You," but he didn't sing half the lyrics. My guess is he was winded from carrying around his Bowser-inspired costume:


His backing band of hot women were okay but not particularly talented or interesting. You only need to listen to a minute of this video to understand why it was so, so bad.

As Cee Lo wandered into strains of "Don't Stop Believin'," I powerwalked northward to Beats Antique. And OH MY GOD, did it make me feel better about the future of music. Check out Monday's post for a fuller treatment, but keep your eyes on this band. Anyone who builds a band around a belly dancer is taking a risk, but these guys are fantastic experimental musicians.

As I headed back toward the Eminem stage for the final performance of the night, I dropped in on the last few songs of Lykke Li's set. She was on my "see if possible" list, and I'm really glad I stopped by. The crowd was electric, and I wasn't there for thirty seconds before I started dancing along. I know very little about her except that she's about my age, Swedish, and has one album out.

And the grand finale: Eminem. I've listened to Eminem for more than a decade, and I had high hopes for this set. He met and exceeded my expectations, delivering an energetic, incredible, almost joyful performance. His rhymes were fluid, and everyone in the audience was into it, jamming and dancing or trying to look cool (depending on how inebriated they were). I haven't talked to a single person who didn't love it.

But we come back to my one regret of the festival: I should have eaten dinner, because then I might remember a little more of the set. It gets really fuzzy far before the final song, for which Royce and Bruno Mars came out and performed with Eminem. Ah well, YouTube will have to preserve the memory that I no longer possess:

Fucking awesome. He also did an encore consisting of the Grammy- and Oscar-winning "Lose Yourself."

There's another day of recap coming soon, along with some thoughts on the role of festivals like Lollapalooza in the American music scene.

Chicago is so friggin' sweet.

Did you go to Lollapalooza 2011 or watch the live webcast? What were your favorite acts?