I have to admit I was skeptical. Really, how well could a St. Vincent performance go over at an outdoor festival? Having been a fan of Annie Clark and her eccentricities for some time now, I had always been of the mind she and her band were meant for the smallest, darkest, and most obscure venues. In fact, the first few songs made me feel as though I had entered some sort of Tim-Burton-directed Disney movie-- the Snow White-esque Clark, in her oversized black sunglasses and bright orange dress, was orchestrating some of the most whimsically dark, yet beautiful, tunes my ears have experienced. As the set progressed, things became less light, more dark, and a little more weird and Clark's movements followed suit, becoming increasingly erratic. By the time "Marrow" began I was convinced the field we were standing in was no longer a lush, green meadow--it had been transformed into a barren wasteland filled with sweaty, entranced hipsters, hungry for something unexpected. I don't want to speak on the behalf of others, but I'm almost certain all in attendance walked away feeling pleasantly surprised and totally fulfilled. My only request: please be weider.
Photography by Spencer Wells.